Gathered Up. Annabeth Albert

      “Eh. It was what it was. How about you? Did your mother know of your…preferences before her passing?”

      “You can say bisexual, Ev. And yes, she did. I dated a guy in high school for a while. Wasn’t a big deal to her. I got a safe-sex lecture and that was pretty much it. She was more occupied with twin toddlers and Jonas. Me kissing boys was the least of her worries.”

      “And how old are your siblings now?”

      “Renee is eighteen, almost nineteen. The twin girls are seven and Jonas is ten. Technically, I could leave him alone some, but he’s got severe ADHD and impulsivity issues.” Renee and I argued about that a lot. She wanted to try leaving the kids alone more, or at least Jonas, but I wasn’t about to let that happen. He might be ten, but he had the rationality of a much younger kid.

      “I understand,” Ev said solemnly. “You take good care of them. And they know about you being bisexual, too?”

      “Well, it’s never come up much. I haven’t dated at all in the two years since Mom died, but they know that boys can like both boys and girls, and I don’t think it would come as a shock if I dated a guy.”

      I had never been one for fishing, but my stepfather had taken me out on the Columbia once. Talking to Ev felt a bit like fishing with Greg. Casting out a bit of line, hoping it didn’t spook Ev.

      “Too busy for dating?” Ev neatly sidestepped the bisexual thing. “I empathize. Right now, it feels like all I can focus on is Hala Mira and making her well. And before that was craziness with design deadlines. Let me think…nine months maybe? A year?”

      “That’s a heck of a dry spell for a guy like you. And you were in New York right? I’d think finding dates would be easy.”

      “Ah. You flatter me.” Ev’s voice was easy and relaxed, and I could listen to him all night. I had a serious hard-on just for his voice, especially when it got all languid like that. “And I’m picky…very picky. And apparently not the best when I do choose.”

      “I’m picky, too,” I admitted. “Tell me about your wish list.” Please let scruffy guys with beards and earrings be on it.

      “You? Picky?” Ev sounded more surprised than the boss on the show when they discovered a genuine treasure amid all the crap.

      “What? You think all bisexuals are automatically manwhores? No, I’ve got plenty of requirements for both genders. I’m not attracted to everything that moves.” God. Why did I constantly feel like a PSA for bisexual marginalization? Ev wasn’t the first to assume that bisexual meant I’d screw anything with legs.

      “My mistake.” Ev seemed genuinely apologetic. “Tell me about these…requirements.”

      “Posture, for one. It’s all in how people carry themselves. Confident posture is essential. Tall is even better.” Ev was three or four inches taller than me, which I loved. I liked women who were taller, too. “A take-charge attitude to go along with that gets me going.”

      “So tall, bossy people with straight spines?” Ev chuckled. “You seem so…take charge, as you say yourself. You’re very…together.”

      I figured that might be his delicate way of asking if I was a top. “I have to be organized. Even when my mom was alive, her husband worked long hours on the graveyard shift, and she always needed my help with the younger kids. And now I have to stay on top of things, help keep us afloat. But when I’m with someone…I like letting go of details. I like someone who can take over and make it so I don’t have to think.”

      There. If he could be delicate, so could I.

      “Even with women?” Ev coughed.

      “Yes, Ev, even with women.” I could really blow his mind and talk about pegging and fem-domme porn, but I restrained myself. “I like…handing over the reins, regardless of gender.”

      “I’m sorry. That’s more a cultural thing on my part. Turkish men…they do not usually like their women…take charge.”

      “I like take-charge Turkish men. A lot,” I said cheekily. We’d definitely moved into the flirty part of this conversation and I was going to enjoy it. Which was where I’d gone wrong with Audrey, letting her pull me into the stockroom and all, but I wasn’t mentioning that to Ev.

      “Ah.” Ev paused a long moment.

      “Is that weird?” I finally asked.

      “No, not weird…just unexpected.”

      “A good unexpected?”

      “Perhaps.” His voice said it was indeed welcome news but he wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction of a full answer.

      “So tell me your list. What does it for you?” Folding done, I lay back against the couch to let his voice wash over me.

      “Hmm. I do not like needy. So as you say, confident is good. No drama.”

      Seeing as how my life tended to be one clusterfuck of drama, that pretty much ruled me out. “What else?”

      Something in my tone must have given my disappointment away. “I do not mean no problems. I mean…no false problems. No mountains out of molehills because someone is ten minutes late or the dinner is a little past done. I like…low-maintenance looks, too. Natural.”

      “You? You’re pretty much a walking menswear ad. You dig scruffy, though?” I was seriously fishing now.

      “I do not need someone who can’t be…rumpled,” Ev said.

      Rumple me. Please. I disguised a whimper as a little go-ahead noise.

      “But it is not so much about looks with me. People are pleasing in many configurations. It’s about…compatibility.” The way he said the word took my mind straight past liking the same TV shows and into the bedroom.

      “Oh? Tell me more?” I got comfortable against the cushions. Simply enjoying this banter and Ev’s deep, musical voice was turning me on more than a little.

      “It’s personal,” Ev hedged.

      “I live for personal. Besides, we’re friends right? I’ll happily overshare whatever you want next.”

      “Hmm.”

      “Don’t make me start guessing. You need someone with a scarf fetish? Wool allergies need not apply?”

      His laugh this time was deep and true. “Allergies can be accommodated. And it’s not so much that I have…special tastes as what I don’t like.”

      “Ah. You don’t bottom? Don’t take this the wrong way, Ev, but I’m pretty sure both New York and Portland are filled with guys dying for you to top them.” Take me, for instance.

      “I do not. Or top. Much.”

      Now there was an interesting wrinkle. I sat up, hands on my knees. “So no bi guys, no drama, and no anal? That’s quite the list, Ev.”

      “Like I said, I’m…hard to please.”

      “Just talking hypothetically here…but no anal isn’t a deal breaker with me.” I was stretching it a bit. I loved to get fucked—loved the head trip almost as much as the act itself—but it wasn’t like Ev and I were talking a long-term thing. We were flirting. Something I hadn’t done in a very long time, and Ev’s dislike of anal wasn’t reason to stop the fun.

      “It’s not?” Ev sounded surprised, and I could hear him shifting around, too.

      “Yes. I know. It’s hard to imagine, but being bisexual doesn’t mean penetration’s required with me. I love bottoming, sure, but there’s plenty of ways to fuck and get fucked. As long as I get that whole not-thinking thing, I’m not choosy.”

      “Ah.”

      “You know, Ev, we’ve really got to broaden your