"That's right!"
"That's ri—" Mason started to agree, following Sophie's lead, before his voice faltered. A look of dawning realisation washed over his face. "Oh."
"Mhm, that's right. 'Oh,' you absolute genius." I crossed my arms, enjoying his slow descent into embarrassment.
"Well! Don't be so picky! Forget the little details!" Mason huffed, trying to regain his dignity. "Now you know, and that's what matters! You're aromantic. Congratulations!"
"Such useless information," I replied, the thought slipping out before I could filter it.
"You just said that out loud," Mason noted, raising an eyebrow.
"Good to know." I shrugged, unbothered.
"Layna! Don't give me that!!"
Making him lose his cool has always been my greatest source of entertainment, but at that moment, I couldn't bring myself to keep the joke going. I had never been particularly interested in labels, nor had I ever been bothered by my lack of romantic drive. But with my friends pointing it out so blatantly, a small spark of curiosity began to flicker.
Considering my personality, I pondered the thought for a second while trying to tune out Mason's ongoing drama. I had heard the term "aromantic" before, along with a dozen other labels, since my generation seemed obsessed with categorising everything. However, I'd always remained aloof to the movement. It wasn't out of spite; I just didn't care what people called themselves. As long as I could be myself, I was happy to let others do the same. It seemed only fair.
I sat there in silence for a moment, the noisy buzz of Mason and Sophie bickering in the background like a pair of persistent mosquitoes.
"Just let her beeee!" Sophie sang out, her voice trailing off into a playful giggle.
"Like I let you be with beer?! Just who the hell are you? Where is the Sophie I know!?" Mason grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her lightly.
"Waaah! Where's Sophieeee?" she wailed dramatically, her head lolling back as she leaned into the act.
"Waaaaah!!" Mason joined in, the two of them descending into pure chaos.
"So," I interrupted, raising my voice over the sound of Mason outrageously shaking Sophie. "Although I think that result you got is incredibly suspicious, what exactly is this aromantic thingy you say I am? And please, Mason, I beg you—don't click on that link. You'll lose your identity or something far more valuable than just money if you do."
"Alright, I won't, don't worry." Mason smoothed down his shirt, clearing his throat. "Ahem. First of all, honey, you don't 'have it.' You are it. Second of all, we should probably ask the know-it-all internet, because I'm not entirely sure of the specifics myself."
"Really now?" I sighed.
"Huh. All I know is that it means you're not romantic."
"Well, that's a given, Einstein. I want to puke whenever I think about romance," I said, a genuine wave of disgust washing over me. Mason went back to his blinding phone, his thumb flying across the screen as he searched for a legitimate definition.
"Come on, don't say that. Hmm. Oh! Here is an easy-to-understand definition." He held the phone up, his eyes scanning the text. "It says: 'An aromantic person, also referred to as Aro, is someone who experiences little to no romantic attraction to persons of any gender.' Girl, that is totally you."
"Yeah, I can't argue with that one." I stared at the ceiling, contemplating the void where my romantic interest should be. "I've no feelings, basically."
"Uhm, it also says that 'romantic attraction is a desire to have romantic contact, emotion, or interaction with a partner, and in this case, people who are aromantic also lack interest in having romantic relationships.'"
"I see."
The room went quiet. Mason just stared at me, his expression unreadable. I met his gaze, which was suddenly full of a strange, heavy pity. He watched me so quietly that it began to grate on my nerves.
"What? It's not that bad. It actually describes how I think—or how I feel."
"Ugh. Bleh. Ouf. You poor b*tch," Sophie suddenly groaned. She rose from the floor like a swamp monster, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Did you just puke on my carpet?" Mason asked, his voice rising in alarm as he looked at the rug.
"It's your f*cking fault for shaking me like that, gay as*hole!" Reverting instantly to her usual self, Sophie glared at Mason. Her foul mouth was back in full swing. "So what? You can't love? Romantically, I mean. You can't actually be heartless, right? It's not that sh*tty a deal, to be honest."
"I think so. That's more or less what it says." I leaned in to read more on Mason's phone while he stood up, grumbling as he went to find something to clean up the mess.
"Well, we can't say she 'can't love,' you know?" Mason called out from the kitchen. "Ouff! D*mn it, Sophie! What did you eat before coming here?! A mountain?!"
"Cookies, a hot dog, and your mom. Gonna cry?" Sophie shot back, her voice dripping with venomous glee.
"You b*tch! You clean this up!"
"I'll puke on you next, d*ckhead!"
"Uh, it says here that there are kinds of—levels of aromanticism or something." I continued reading, trying to bring their attention back to the screen. "But it's a wide range. It says an aromantic person just doesn't experience romantic attraction the way others usually do."
"Hmm. So it's up to you to decide what 'level' you're in, huh?" Sophie mused, watching Mason scrub the floor. "Mason, you missed a bit over here."
"You should be the one cleaning this!!" He yelled, completely losing his cool. Sophie just cackled at him, but my eyes caught something popping up on his phone screen—something far more interesting than their bickering.
"Uh, guys? I know you're in the middle of something important and all, but—Mason?"
"WHAT?!" he snapped, his face flushed from the exertion of cleaning.
"Why is a guy sending you nudes?" I asked, my eyebrows shooting up. "I knew you were gay, but—"
"Give me that!!" He lunged for the phone, his eyes wide with panic.
Snatching the phone from my hand, he turned away to check his messages, hiding the screen so ineptly that it was practically an invitation. I seized the chance to tease him.
"So you can't even wait to look? Naughty. I knew this was the real you."
"That's not it! Look!" He tried to show me, but I recoiled.
"Woah! No thank you, I've seen enough." I held up my hands in defence. "I don't want to see a random guy showing his thingy. I'm a pure lady, okay?"
"I do want to. Show me!" Sophie, ever the voyeur, leaned over the table to get a better look.
"I'm telling you that's not—oh, gosh, he did send one." Mason's voice dropped into a low, mischievous purr. "Ooh. Mason likey!"
"Mhm!" Sophie crooned, her eyes fixed on the screen. "Sophie too. Good catch, Mason. I'm proud of you."
"Hehe, thanks!" Mason beamed, his previous anger forgotten. Both of them smirked at the screen, their cheeks flushing as they appreciated the view. I gave them a long moment to soak it in, waiting for the perfect second to knock them off their horny cloud.
"Yeah, so that wasn't it, huh?" I asked, crossing my arms. "Was it actually a video he sent you? You've been staring for a while now."
"No! Wait, really, it wasn't—THAT wasn't all of it!" Mason stammered, his face turning an even deeper shade of crimson.
"Mhm." I nodded slowly. "You know, you only just came out, but now you're shamelessly exposing your business without an ounce of care. Congratulations, Mason. I'm actually shocked this time, though not for the reason you intended, darling."
"Yeah, darling. I'm also shocked." Sophie added, her eyes still glued to the photo. "Do you think he's bi? I want his number if he is."
"D*mn it! You two!" Mason groaned, burying his face in his hands. "He's just—just—! Why do I even have to explain this?!"
"Right. We should probably get used to this kind of thing." I teased, a wicked glint in my eye. "Next time, you'll be wearing that wig you hide in your closet to welcome us into the house."
"You saw that?!" He gasped, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.