Title: Bi-Furious
Author: Chelsi Robichaud
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 03/08/2022
Pairing: Female/Female
Length: 76200
Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, Contemporary, romance, bisexual, coming out, illustrator, office romance, comic convention, stalking, cyber-bullying, biphobia, forced outing
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Description
Jess, a young artist, has spent her entire life thinking she was straight. That is, until her long-term boyfriend leaves her for someone else. Single for the first time in years, Jess has time to think about what it is she really wants. And to express that, she paints a portrait of two women embracing. The painting goes viral overnight, and she gets approached by her favorite lesbian illustrator, Lily. The two become fast friends, but there’s one problem: Lily doesn’t know that Jess is straight. The more they talk, the more Jess starts to question her sexuality.
Once she realizes she is bisexual, Jess has to decide what she values more: the safety that heterosexual relationships afford her, or a real connection with someone she truly likes. As her infatuation for Lily grows, Jess has to make the difficult choice between keeping things as they are or accepting the risks that come with being openly bisexual.
Some of those risks involve being the target of cyber-bullying. Although Jess’ friends are happy for her, the Internet is not. One particularly spiteful fan does her best to ruin their relationship. It is up to Jess to find it within herself to reject the online harassment and inner doubts and embrace her new-found identity.
Bi-Furious
Chelsi Robichaud © 2022
All Rights Reserved
I was going to be meeting with my ex-boyfriend. I still didn’t know how to feel about it. Both the meeting and the fact there was now an “ex” label in front of the term “boyfriend.”
I had gone over how it was going to take place several times in my head. He would walk in. I’d try to stay as calm as possible, but tears would spring to my eyes. I figured as soon as our eyes met, I’d break down. It was one thing to break up with me over text and process it on my own, but once I actually saw him, things might change. Maybe he’d walk in with that furrowed brow and stormy look in his eyes. Maybe he’d point a finger and tear me down all over again for being “immature,” leaving me broken and crying in the café. That would not be a good look. I had put on waterproof mascara just in case I did cry.
I sat at the table, twirling a spoon through my chai latte, the frosty milk dispersing into the tea. Any minute, he’d be here. And I knew he would, because he was always on time. I looked nervously at my phone. One minute left. My heart vaulted against my chest. I took a deep breath. I kept repeating the same thing to myself over and over again: it’s worth it, it’s worth it, it’s worth it. I needed my brushes back. Whatever emotional turmoil our meeting stirred up, it would be worth it. The brushes were expensive.
I stared at the door unblinkingly, like a soldier facing enemy lines, with nothing but a mug of tea in my hands. But the comparison was weak. I was more like a wounded little doe, shivering in the forest as the wolf approached. I was afraid of getting mauled.
He had two sides. One was sweet and kind, and the other was explosive and angry. I had no idea which one I’d be meeting today. I sincerely hoped for the sweet one.
Clark walked in. He was dressed all in black. Dress clothes, with a winter hat and scarf. He must’ve come straight from work. He was a businessman working at a big marketing firm (which was why we didn’t see eye to eye on career choices). He looked around for me. I froze. I didn’t call his name or wave him over. Suddenly, I hoped he wouldn’t see me so that I could avoid this situation altogether. Who needed that stuff back anyway? Not me!
His eyes fell on me eventually. His face was impassive. Not at all what I expected.
I noticed the bag in his hand as he made his way over to me, skirting past other café customers.
“Hey,” he said, and I realized how much I had missed his voice.
“Hey,” I replied. “I didn’t get you anything because I didn’t know if you actually wanted a coffee, or if you just kind of wanted to get it all over with.”
I winced as soon as I said it. Real smooth.
He sighed. “I expected you to be on the defensive. I broke up with you, after all. But, no, I was hoping to sit down and talk a little. I’m going to get a drink.”
As soon as he left, I pulled the bag over to me and checked its contents. Yep. Everything was there, safe and sound. I put it back inconspicuously where he had placed it on the ground, as if I hadn’t just been making sure he hadn’t fucked up my belongings.
He returned with his drink. I could smell the Brazilian coffee from here. I never drank it myself, but I spent so much time with him that I recognized it now. It kind of wrenched at my heart, for some reason. What did it matter, anyway? Of course, I knew what his favourite brand of coffee was. I searched his face. His expression was still impassive, but forcefully so. His eyes looked pained; his jaw set tight. I realized for the first time that neither of us had spoken since he had returned with his coffee.
He cleared his throat. “So, I’ve been thinking about how things went between us,” he began, then stopped abruptly when his voice cracked.
I pressed my hands into my lap. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I…look, I did the wrong thing.” He wiped his face. “I made a huge mistake. I shouldn’t have broken up with you. I love you, not her.”
I was stunned. He still loved me?
“But just yesterday you told me we were done,” I said, feeling like my soul was leaving my body. “You told me you were leaving me for this other person.”
He winced. “I know, but I was angry with you. I didn’t really mean it.”
“Okay…I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”
“I still love you, Jess.” He reached out across the table to touch my hand.
Despite myself, I liked it. I missed the way he touched me, even in passing. It was so familiar and comforting. But I thought of Julia telling me there was no future with him, and everyone knew that. I took my hand away.
“I don’t get it. You told me you wanted to be with her now.” I shook my head. “Besides, you cheated on me. You broke the trust between us. Even if I did still love you, I wouldn’t be able to trust you again.”
“I know what I did was wrong.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Neither of our drinks had even been touched. They were a pretense. “But I think if you tried a little harder, things could work out between us.”
I narrowed my eyes. “If I had tried harder? Do you hear yourself right now? I have been hoping this would all work out. I’ve been working overtime so I could spend more time with you. I even agreed to get rid of most of my things because they didn’t fit in your apartment. But I don’t try hard enough?”
He frowned. “No, you don’t. I want a life with you, Jess, but you’re constantly pushing me away.”
I pressed my lips together tightly. He was right. I did that a lot. But I did it because he kept trying to block me from moving forward in life.
“That’s why I looked elsewhere for—”
“Seriously?” I interrupted. “You’re going to use that pathetic excuse?”
“Fine,” he said. “But tell me this: Did you love me? Before the cheating?”
I looked away. There were times where I had said I loved him and meant it, but there were times where I had questioned it. I felt an intense physical attraction to him, and he was one of my closest friends. We had known each other for eleven years. But I didn’t know if I wanted to be the perfect, well-behaved girlfriend he so clearly desired. I tried every day to be the person he wanted; I needed a break now and then.
“I know you probably feel lonely since things clearly didn’t work out with this other woman,” I said finally. “But that’s not a good reason to get back together.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” he retorted.
I frowned. “I think that people who love each other support each other.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Do I really need to go over how many times you’ve put me down? Put my career choice down?”
I wasn’t usually so aggressive but seeing him sitting there, berating me for not putting enough effort into our relationship was pissing me off. I grabbed my things and stood.
“Look, Clark. You are one of my closest friends. It shattered me when you ended things. No, don’t interrupt me. It did. So you don’t get to come back here and think I’ll go back to you willingly.” I choked back a sob. I didn’t want to seem vulnerable in front of him anymore. “God. Honestly, I thought you were so beautiful, and strong, and trustworthy. But you are no different from all the other men afraid of a woman with a mind of her own. That’s weak as hell.”
I didn’t let him speak. I just left, breathless and uncertain about what happened next.
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Chelsi Robichaud writes and resides in Halifax, Nova Scotia. She publishes sapphic romance and fantasy novels. She has also self-published two comics. Find Chelsi on Twitter.
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