Chapter XXVIII

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It goes completely silent for a while.

I rack my brain for something appropriate to say.

"Yeah... erm, so, how was it?"

"How was what?"

"Uh... the kiss."

"Wh-what?"

"I mean that's what you want to talk about right?"

Lottie stares at me for a while, before breaking into laughter.

Loud, snort-full laughter.

I don't recall saying anything particularly funny and I'm thoroughly confused when she continues to double over in tears.

It takes a few seconds before I realise she's stopped laughing and the sound I was hearing had actually turned into deep sobs.

Oh.

Getting out of my seat I crouch to Lottie's side rubbing her back in affection, ignoring the awkward feeling in the air.

That's how it stays for a few seconds, me sat next to Lottie, not completely sure what to say.

"There, there?" I ask more than reassure.

Lottie coughs before forcefully pushing herself up from the ground.

She rests her hands on a nearby table momentarily.

"Thanks Ivory."

Thanks for what?

"It's fine."

I think.

"No it's not." Tears slowly start rolling down her face again and I feel myself becoming more and more useless. "You're the only one who's found out about well me, and... and you're not disgusted."

Disgusted?

Why would I be disgusted?

Why is Lottie even crying?

"N-no." How do I even ask what's wrong without sounding ignorant?

"Why not? Everyone else thinks that it's disgusting. You're supposed to find it disgusting. Really disgusting actually," she stops and takes long breaths. "My stepfather, no, actually my whole family thinks that it's disgusting."

Oh.

Homosexuality.

I heard that a lot of people don't really look highly upon homosexuality.

Especially in this area of America.

I stay in the same spot thinking of a response.

"Well look at me Lottie. Everyone is supposed to be disgusted by me too," I say. "If they can't give you a valid reason that race disgusting, then there is no reason to find it disgusting. It's perfectly different."

The glare Lottie gives me leads me to believe I offended her.

"Perfectly different?" She repeats.

"Not in a bad way. It's not bad to be different. That's what I'm saying."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Try telling my friends that."

"To be honest, I think the people that are different are the best ones," I smile.

"Sure," she laughs.

"My Mama always said that if everyone was normal then the world wouldn't be an interesting place to live."

After stopping the shake in her legs she takes a large breath and focuses on the ceiling, probably to stop more tears from falling.

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