Iͦ'mͦ aͦtͦ hͦiͦsͦ pͦlͦaͦcͦeͦ lͦoͦoͦkͦiͦnͦgͦ iͦnͦ tͦhͦeͦ mͦiͦrͦrͦoͦrͦ, Iͦ'mͦ gͦeͦtͦtͦiͦnͦgͦ uͦsͦeͦdͦ tͦoͦ sͦeͦeͦiͦnͦgͦ tͦhͦiͦnͦgͦsͦ uͦnͦcͦlͦeͦaͦrͦ, Pͦaͦiͦnͦtͦiͦnͦgͦ hͦiͦsͦ nͦaͦiͦlͦsͦ wͦhͦiͦlͦeͦ hͦeͦ'sͦ dͦrͦiͦnͦkͦiͦnͦgͦ aͦ bͦeͦeͦrͦ, Hͦaͦnͦdͦsͦ iͦnͦ mͦyͦ hͦaͦiͦrͦ, Iͦ tͦhͦiͦnͦkͦ Iͦ wͦaͦnͦnͦaͦ sͦtͦaͦyͦ hͦeͦrͦeͦ, Iͦ cͦaͦnͦ’tͦ bͦeͦlͦiͦeͦvͦeͦ wͦhͦaͦtͦ jͦuͦsͦtͦ hͦaͦpͦpͦeͦnͦeͦdͦ, Tͦaͦsͦtͦeͦdͦ lͦiͦpͦ gͦlͦoͦsͦsͦ nͦoͦwͦ Iͦ'mͦ cͦrͦaͦvͦiͦnͦgͦ hͦiͦsͦ cͦhͦaͦpͦsͦtͦiͦcͦkͦ, Iͦ mͦaͦdͦeͦ uͦpͦ mͦyͦ mͦiͦnͦdͦ, Sͦoͦ Iͦ dͦoͦnͦ'tͦ wͦaͦnͦtͦ tͦoͦ lͦiͦsͦtͦeͦnͦ, Hͦeͦ mͦaͦdͦeͦ mͦeͦ rͦeͦaͦlͦiͦzͦeͦ sͦoͦmͦeͦtͦhͦiͦnͦgͦ fͦeͦeͦlͦsͦ dͦiͦfͦfͦeͦrͦeͦnͦtͦ

You are best friends with Charlie Bushnell, so you're always hanging out at his place. This time in particular, you're complaining to him about your love life, or lack thereof as you've pretty much been single for the past few months.

You're currently sitting between his legs as you paint his nails while you guys watch cartoons. He reaches for his beer and you smack his hand. "Use your other hand! The nail polish is still drying, dumbass."

He sighs, readjusting himself in order to reach for his drink with his other hand.

"You do like men, right? I mean, I know you're unlabeled with a female lean or whatever, but did you ever think that the reason you're single is because you won't try a guy?"

"Why would you...? Why would you ever suggest such a foolish thing to me, Charlie?" You feign offense.

He rolls his eyes as a scoff of laughter exits his lips. "I'm just saying," he takes another swig of his beer, "maybe you'd have better luck with a guy? What about that guy in your major that you always talk to? He seems nice."

You groan. "I just... I don't know if I even still like men..."

"Wanna test the theory?" He asks with a cheeky smile stretch across his face. "Just a simple kiss. Just to see if you feel anything for men. It's no big deal."

You shrug, deciding that it can't hurt.

"Sure?"

He gently cups your face with one hand and kisses you.

"So?" He asks.