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answers to any questions that followed, none of which ever became an issue again.
    Once Amber knew about Robert and Angel’s rejection, and the love triangle, she completely understood why it was important to get the hell out of Ohio. She knew the quickest way out was to join the military.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter 3
     
     
    It was difficult holding back my sexuality after coming to realize who I was. It’s like trying to announce the cure for cancer in a whisper. Typically, when gay people come out of the closet, they become flamboyant with their newly discovered or accepted identity. Some own all the rainbow trinkets and make it obvious that they fought to be themselves. It’s a rite of passage in the community.
    My inner confidence was gained by owning the title of true bisexual. I use the word true to establish credibility for the label. It sets apart the stereotypical girls in college who finger their best friends on a drunken horny rampage from the bisexuals who struggle early on. Inner confidence, however, did not earn me sexual freedom. Inhibiting myself was essential to enter the realm of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” so I could be all I could be. Definitely some irony to be noted here.
    In basic training there was a very good-looking girl bathing directly across from me in the community showers, claiming to hate gays. “Olive Oil,” dubbed so by the drill sergeants for her thin frame and slicked black hair. She was just the girl next door until the bubble thong incident. She became my living entertainment after she doubled up in a shower, giggling loudly that, not to worry, she was straight. Immediately my eyes scanned the area, scouting for the girl who made the comment. I never would have looked twice until she unknowingly challenged me with those words.
    After that, my gaze intentionally lingered over her smooth perfection as my way to counterbalance her hatred for that which she claimed to have knowledge. Olive babbled about how she would know if a girl in the bay was a lesbian. On and on she spewed as she scrubbed the shampoo through her hair, causing her perfect size Cs to bounce in rhythm.
    While “listening,” I wondered what she would do if she knew I was lustfully looking at her body. A giggle pulled me out of my trance in just enough time to hear her say, “I’d kick her ass,” before she trailed off again into blah blah blahs . My smile was timed with everyone else’s, but secretly she transitioned into my personal porn.
    The shampoo slid down her sun-kissed curves. It began at the nape of her neck, over her shoulders, and through the center of her chest. It split into two foamy lines at her navel. One fell straight through her pubic hair; the other followed the contours of her hips to the back. I stared too long and became red-faced with embarrassment, but no one was watching me to notice my reaction. The girls were far too enthralled in Olive’s story on being anti-gay to see just how simply erotic she looked in that bubble belt. When she turned to wipe the soap from her eyes, the shampoo followed her spine directly through the crack of her perfect eighteen-year-old ass.
    The bubble thong incident let my inner confidence on bisexuality grow into that cure-for-cancer whisper. A rainbow began to appear over my heart, but there were no pride parades for me that year.
    After boot camp, I trained to learn the job I would eventually perform in the military. At that point my sexuality was set in bisexual stone. However, my attention was gravitated toward the only known lesbian within the first three days of being at the school. My bisexual proclamation was mentioned freely so the “rumor” would get to her.
    This passive aggressive way to show interest was worse than sending a message by carrier pigeon. Only God knows if she heard any of it at all. If she did, she was absolutely, one hundred percent indifferent. She was blinded by lust and doted over her roommate, aka “lover.” She remained