I suddenly had a smart idea. I don't have that many of them, not about my own emotional life anyway. "I know what's wrong," I said again.

They all looked at me. I touched Micah's naked back, but looked at Jean-Claude. "It was what we did tonight with Augustine."

Jean-Claude sat on the corner of the bed, one arm still wrapped around the bedpost. "What exactly are you referring to, ma petite} We did many things with Augustine tonight."

"I know that everyone thinks we're all snogging each other's brains out, but tonight was the first time I'd ever seen two men kiss. I've never even seen someone do ..." I faltered. God, was I still such a baby? No, damn it, I was a grown-up. "I've never seen anal sex before, let alone between two men. Let alone between my lover and a stranger." I took in a big breath and let it out, and went to the edge of the bed, a little closer to Jean-Claude. "Am I making any sense?"

"You were disturbed by what you saw," he said.

"Wait," Nathaniel said. The wait turned me to him. He was propped up on the pillows, the sheet forgotten in his lap, so that he was barely covered at all, but his face showed he wasn't even thinking about it. "How did you feel when Jean-Claude kissed Auggie?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it, because I wasn't sure what the answer was. How had I felt? "I didn't mind it. It was . . . interesting." That wasn't true. I looked down at the bedspread and said, "No, I... it was interesting."

"Interesting bad, or interesting good?" Nathaniel said.

Without looking up, I answered, "Good."

Someone sighed, and I wasn't sure which of them had done it. I looked up, slowly, and no one was looking at me like I'd said something awful. I don't know why I thought anyone in this room would think it was wrong that I liked seeing Jean-Claude kiss another man, but I did think it. I was waiting for someone to tell me to be ashamed of myself. I'd seen someone I loved kiss another man, and not only hadn't I been horrified, but I'd liked it. Was that wrong? I had waited for it to feel wrong, but it hadn't. It had felt strangely right, as if I'd been waiting my whole life to see it. It had felt right in that way that only the things that truly speak to your heart can feel. I hadn't felt bad when it was happening. I was feeling bad now. Why? Was it guilt? No, I felt uncomfortable, and a little squeamish, but not guilty. So what was it?

Micah touched my arm. "So many thoughts flying over your face—what are you thinking?"

"That I don't feel bad, and shouldn't I feel bad about it."

He looked puzzled, frowned. "Bad about what?"