There was a short silence, and then Sunil spoke again, his voice hardened.
‘You know what, Lloyd? Yes. Yes, I am. Because Pride Soc is inclusive, and open, and loving, and not run by you any more. And because there are still sad little cis gays like you who seem to take other queers’ mere existence as a threat to your civil rights, even freshers who are showing up here for the first time – some of them likely never having been to a queer event in their whole lives – just trying to find somewhere they can relax and be themselves. And I don’t know if you’re aware of this, Lloyd, because I know you don’t recognise any pride flag that isn’t the fucking rainbow, but I actually happen to be one of those made-up internet identities. And guess what? I’m the president. So get the fuck out of my formal.’
I heard the sound of footsteps moving away and the swing of the door opening and closing.
I waited a moment, but there was no way to pretend I hadn’t heard that conversation, so I descended the steps. Sunil looked up as I approached. He was leaning against the wall, fingers tightly clenching his upper arms.
‘Oh, Georgia,’ he said, forcing a smile, but I must have looked guilty because he immediately said, ‘Ah. You heard some of that.’
‘Sorry,’ I said as I reached the bottom step. ‘Are you OK? Do you …’ I struggled to think of a way I could help. ‘Do you want a drink or something?’
Sunil chuckled. ‘You’re sweet. I’m OK.’
‘He … sounded like a … disgusting person.’
‘Yes. He very much is. Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you can’t be a bigot.’
‘I think you pretty much annihilated him, though.’
He laughed again. ‘Thanks.’ He unfolded his arms. ‘You heading home?’
‘Yeah. It’s been really nice.’
‘Good. Great. You’re welcome to come along any time.’
‘Thank you. And … thanks for what you said to Pip about … you know, why I was here.’
He shrugged. ‘No biggie.’
‘You don’t have to be in our play.’
‘Oh, no, I am definitely being in your play.’
My mouth dropped open. ‘You … are?’
‘Definitely. I’ve really needed to do something like this – something fun. So, I’m in.’ He put his hands in his pockets. ‘If you’ll have me.’
‘Yeah! Yeah, we sort of need five members or the society gets scrapped.’
‘Well, there we have it, then. Message me the details?’
‘Yeah, definitely.’
There was a pause.
I could have left. It would have made sense for me to head home.
But instead I found myself talking.
‘I was sort of on a date today,’ I said. ‘When you found me.’
Sunil raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh really?’
‘But it … didn’t go very well.’
‘Oh. Why? Were they awful?’
‘No, it was … the guy is really lovely. It’s me that’s the problem. I’m weird.’
Sunil paused. ‘And why are you weird?’
‘I just …’ I laughed nervously. ‘I don’t think I can ever feel anything.’
‘Maybe he’s the wrong person for you.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘He’s wonderful. But I never feel anything for anyone.’
There was another long pause.
I didn’t even know how to begin to explain it properly. It felt like something I’d made up in my head. A dream I couldn’t quite remember properly.
And a word.
A word that Lloyd had spoken with such malice, but Sunil had defended.
A word that had sparked something in my brain.
I’d finally made the connection.
‘Uh …’ I was grateful I was a little tipsy. I pointed at his pin – the one with black, grey, white, and purple stripes. ‘Is that … the flag for, um … being asexual?’
Sunil’s eyes widened. For the briefest moment, he seemed genuinely shocked that I was not certain what his pin meant.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Asexuality. Do you know what that is?’
Now, I had definitely heard of asexuality. I’d seen a few people talking about it online, and many people with it in their Twitter or Tumblr bios. Sometimes I even came across a fanfic with an asexual character. But I’d hardly ever heard people use the word in real life, or even on TV or in movies. I figured it was something to do with not liking sex. But I didn’t know for sure.