Chapter Ten

Maeve

"Oh, what time is your flight? Maybe we can go to the airport together!" Jake practically squeals as he reaches for my hand, over the corner of our table in a restaurant just off St Stephen's Green on a busy Friday night in Dublin.

"Midday," I say, putting my wine glass down and taking his hand.

"Perfect! We fly out at two o'clock!" he declares, flashing a quick look at his boyfriend, Rami.

"Then you'll be waiting for two hours longer than you need to," I point out.

"We don't mind, Maeve," Rami says, settling his knife and fork together on an empty plate. "We have to check out before eleven anyway."

"But you could get a late check-out."

"I'm starting to think you don't want our company!" Jake squeezes my hand before dropping it and giving me an over-emphatic, pained look. "Do you not want to spend time with us, Maeve? You know we can get in the lounge too. My boyfriend is disgustingly rich, and arguably more famous than you."

"Jake," Rami says with a wince.

"I don't know," my brother nods at me from the opposite side of the table, his hand resting on Jenna's pregnant belly next to him, "Maeve here is pretty famous these days."

"Nah, Jake's right." I nod at Rami. "You are a lot more famous than me, which is why I will like travelling with you tomorrow because you'll get more attention than I will. I will just sit and eat all the free food while you get mobbed."

"Mobbed?" Rami wipes his smiling mouth with his napkin as his grey eyes sparkle. "Luckily, thanks to the masks I wear performing, I've never been mobbed in my life."

"At least not by anybody other than me!" Jake's hand is now squeezing his partner's thigh and they share a look.

Sitting at the end of the table, with Jake and Rami on my right and Jenna and Marty on my left, I have had a full view of both couples' public displays of affection all evening, and while I feel like I've tolerated it all pretty well, I am starting to get a bit fed up. Although I can't decide what I'm most fed up about. The fact that I'm a third – or fifth wheel – at this dinner, or the fact that I'm letting that ruin what should be a get together with some of my favourite people in the universe. I've just been working so hard on not thinking about how very single I am – filling my days and sometimes my nights with work – and yet, it seems I can't avoid it if I want to spend time with those I love most, which I know is very much a me problem, not a them problem.

"I would offer to drive you all to the airport myself," Marty reaches for his glass of water, "but I have to do the day shift tomorrow."

"I could take them," Jenna offers, placing her hand over Marty's as he continues to absent-mindedly stroke her bump. I take my eyes off the sight. I'm the least broody person in the world but there's something about them sharing this tender touch with their unborn child that has my jaw tightening. "What time would you need to be at the airport?"

"Jenna, no," I say, gently. "I won't have you driving into the city to pick us all up in—

She interrupts me. "If you say, ‘in your condition,' I may have to stab you with my fork," she says, holding the cutlery in her fist.

"Jenna doesn't like that expression," Marty leans over his partner to tell me.

"Jenna doesn't like being talked about in the third person when she's right here." Jenna grips my brother's face, squeezing his cheeks and forcing him to stare into her eyes. "I'm pregnant, not useless."

"We have a driver, Jenna." Rami leans forward. "He's already scheduled to pick us up tomorrow. All I have to do is call and change the time and tell him there will be another pick-up and it's done."

"Yes, you stay in bed being a baby microwave." Jake waves his hand at his sister

"Jake," Jenna says warningly and points the fork at him.

"When is your next scan again?" I ask. I know I've got it in my diary, but I can't remember if it's when I'm in the country or not. I hope it is.

"Two weeks," Marty answers. "And it's the big one. Full body scan."

"I'm not sure that's the medical term." Jenna laughs lightly. "But yes, it will be the most thorough scan yet.

Being forty-three, Jenna has had more scans than some other pregnant people would, but she has taken it all mostly in her stride, and so far, they have all gone well with no problems. And Marty has been there at her side for each one, despite my mother and I offering to go with Jenna instead, should he have to work. But he won't hear of it.

It's a little strange seeing my brother so… settled. Growing up, he was the wild one. Yes, he'd had a long-term boyfriend in the form of Arnie, his one-time childhood best friend, but his behaviour – his antics – were anything but settled. And that didn't really change until he and Jenna finally got together a few years ago. Or maybe that's unfair.

It's just I always imagined I would be the one in a long-term relationship. I thought I'd be the one with a partner before Marty. Granted, I've always known I don't want to be a parent, but I'd thought I'd be building a life with someone long before Marty was even thinking about settling down.

And yet here we are with his live-in partner pregnant with his baby and he's borderline obsessive about preparing for the birth. And the thing that bugs me the most is how easily it seems to come to him, how naturally he is able to fall in love and stay in love. I saw it with Arnie, and I see it now with Jenna. He makes it look easy.

But it isn't. It really, really isn't.

"Earth to Maeve!" Jake's voice interrupts my thoughts.

"Does that work for you?" Rami's gentle voice follows up.

"Sorry, what?" I shake my head.

"We'll pick you up just after nine. That okay?"

"Yeah, that's grand," I say, still blinking and trying to return to the busy restaurant. I'm partially aware of conversation drifting elsewhere between Rami, Jake and my brother, and I find myself wanting to escape again, but this time not into my thoughts. So, I pull my phone out of my bag and start tapping through apps, looking at notifications. I've been really diligent at putting new content up every day this week, and making highly-polished, super-relevant videos and posts, wanting to prove to Aisling that I can still grow my platform without stripping down to my underwear. And it's working, I think. The more I talk about being asexual, doing some videos that are informative and others that are entertaining, making jokes about how confusing being asexual is, and how misunderstood it is, I'm reaching new followers. And I'm getting more comments and DMs from people who say my speaking on this topic is really helping them. I wish I could wave those emails and messages in Aisling's face when she starts to talk to me about ROI and KPIs.

But I know I can't. I also can't help but feel that, while my following may be getting a nice little boost, the offers for work haven't exactly increased. And this trip to New York that I'm going on tomorrow is one that I'm paying out of my own pocket, which isn't a big deal. Sometimes I prefer to make my own travel arrangements, but this trip is different. I'm paying for everything and I don't even have a job to travel for. Instead, I'm going out to New York to meet with a possible new agent, someone who has been in contact with me for some time, slowly, slowly trying to convince me to sign with them.

This is not unusual in itself; I've been approached by lots of agents in the past, but this is different because the agency is a start-up, a queer start-up.

To make the most of the trip, I've also planned and paid for a photoshoot in Central Park, and arranged to do some meet-ups with other influencers so we can shoot content together at a Yankees game, be courtside at a Knicks game, and also go to a pumpkin farm upstate. When in fucking Rome at fucking Halloween, I guess…

"Are you okay, Maeve?" Jenna's voice fills my ear. She's leaning towards me, her hands balanced on her stomach.

"Yeah, I'm grand, I'm just… tired."

Jenna nods. "Will you have some downtime while you're in New York?"

I shake my head. I don't want downtime. Especially when I'm travelling… alone.

"But I'll be fine. It's going to be a fun trip," I tell her, hoping the smile on my face is genuine. "I'm seeing some friends. Doing a fun photoshoot where I get to be the director. And you know the meeting with this possible new agent is exciting."

Jenna's eyes dart to Marty quickly but then come back to me once she sees he's still occupied with his conversation with Rami and Jake. "You know, your parents and Marty are worried this meeting may mean you move over to the States. But I want you to know that you shouldn't let that influence any decisions you make.

I'm not surprised by what she's saying. Ma and I have spoken about this before and I've even admitted how I've considered it in the past. But that was before my first nibling was due to be born. That was before I started to think that if I'm not going to find a life partner to love and be loved by, I should definitely stay close to the family and friends I do have.

I shake my head and look at Jenna but don't put my phone down. I've just noticed I've got some new messages in my TikTok inbox. "That's never going to happen, trust me. I don't want to live there. It's full of annoying Americans."

Jenna snorts. "Isn't the US one of your primary audiences? Aren't you, like, seriously popular there?"

I shrug. "Well, there you go. They're stupid as well as annoying!"

Jenna chuckles as she reaches for her glass and Marty turns to her, saying something I don't quite catch. Checking both couples are busy talking, I finally open up my inbox.

I wouldn't say my stomach sinks when I see it's not a message from Loncey, but I'm definitely not pleased to see it's a message from somebody with the username "NaughtyNico69" that I instantly regret reading. You say you're asexual now. I bet one night with me would change that pretty quickly.> Ew. Fuck off. How did that get through my keyword filter?

Once NaughtyNico69's message is deleted and his username blocked, I find myself scrolling down and finding my conversation with Loncey. I re-read our last messages, although I know most of them by heart now.

Three and a half weeks.

That's how long it's been since we last shared some messages. I don't miss them, as such. I don't know them. But I do find myself thinking about them. I even find myself opening up their profile and watching the videos that aren't too sex-focused, which isn't that many but enough to make me feel like I'm scratching an itch I don't want to have

There was even one evening when I got stuck on my sofa watching a whole series of their videos entitled, "How smutty romance can teach us how to have better sex." and I didn't hate everything they had to say. I liked how they differentiated between libido and arousal and attraction, and how they also acknowledged that romance novels create a safe environment for readers to explore fantasies with no pressure from the outside world, and how that helps people remove the shame they may have been taught to feel. They also briefly touched on how we need to remember that sexuality is on the same spectrum as asexuality and that the way people feel sexual attraction to one another can change over time, and that there's nothing wrong with feeling sexual attraction to fictional characters; they are indeed written to be sexually attractive. In fact, I liked a lot of it. And I liked the way they said it – gently, eloquently, intelligently – albeit, yet again, while they were still shirtless.

"Who's that you're texting?" a voice asks. My brother's voice. I look up and see him sat in Jenna's chair. She must have gone to the Ladies. I'm momentarily disappointed she didn't ask me to go with her, but then realise we only went together about fifteen minutes ago and she must have assumed, rightly, that I didn't need to go again.

That's like the fifth time she's been this evening. Fuck that shit. I am never getting pregnant.

"Seriously, who is it?" Marty asks again and his eyebrows have the audacity to wiggle at me. I lock the screen on my phone and turn it over on my lap.

"They're nobody," I say with a quick tut.

"They?" Another eyebrow wiggle. "You're being cagey with the gender."

"No, they are a they. They're non-binary."

"Oh, right," Marty's performing eyebrows rise. "I see. Who are they

"They're… just someone on TikTok."

"Someone you're messaging. I saw several message bubbles on the screen."

"You nosey fecker." I scowl at my brother. "But we're not messaging. Not anymore."

Marty holds my gaze and for some reason I find the warmth in his brown eyes discomfiting, so I look away, pretending to suddenly be very interested in my nails. "You seem sad," he says.

"About the messages? Nah. I don't even know them."

"No, I mean, in general." Marty shifts in his chair to turn more towards me as I look up again. "I'd say I've noticed you have a face like a slapped arse more often than usual, but that would hardly cheer you up now, would it?"

"I'm not…" I pause, feeling the full weight of my next word. "Sad."

"Maevey." Marty cocks his head at me.

"I'm tired," I say, wanting to get in there before he does. This is not the first time I've had chats like these with him, Jenna or my parents. "But it's my own fault. I work too much, travel too much, dick around on the Internet too much."

Marty nods and a thoughtful look falls over his face. "But that used to make you happy," he says. "Does it still?"

I think about that for a moment, and it's a moment longer than I should. "It doesn't make me unhappy," I reply eventually and it's the truth, I think.

My phone vibrates in my palm and force of habit has me turning it over immediately. I see an email notification on the screen with the Subject and Sender visible. It's from the underwear brand I have loosely agreed to work with, and the email's Subject is "More Information About Your Keynote Speech at XXXCon."

Marty's talking to me again but I'm not listening as I open up the email. I've been waiting for this additional information, and am keen to know if they are confirming the dates they need me to be in Vegas.

"Have you ever thought about how potentially unhealthy it is to be online as much as you are?" my brother says, but again I'm not paying full attention even though his words make me straighten my back and make it extra hard to ignore him completely. "And like, what if you had a few days a week offline. Maybe start a new hobby or do some volunteering or—"

I can't read the fecking email while he's jabbering away in my ear. I lower the phone and fix him with a glare.

"Marty, I hear what you're saying and I appreciate it. Really, I do. And honestly, it's nothing I haven't already thought about myself, but now's not the time. I'm well aware of how far you've come on your own personal enlightenment journey but I've been waiting on this email for weeks so could I just read it and you can save your pseudo-counselling session for another day?"

"Jesus, Maeve," he laughs but there's no cheer in it. "You're a real bitch sometimes, you know that?"

I blink at him, my email long forgotten. My brother's called me a bitch before, but not in recent years. That enlightenment journey I just poked fun at him for has brought us closer together than ever and our banter has rarely turned unpleasant. Until I just let rip at him.

"I…" I hold his eye contact even though it feels like it a physical effort to do so. "I'm sorry, Marty, I'm just tired. I feel like I'm on this rollercoaster ride with my work and it's impossible to get off."

His face softens. "You can get off anytime you want," he says in the most soothing voice.

I'm about to tell him no, I can't. I'm about to explain that I don't know what I would do if I wasn't on this ride. I'm about to try and make him see that my job keeps me busy and I need to keep busy. I'm about to say this, and maybe much more that I've buried even deeper inside me but I'm prevented, or maybe saved, when I see Jenna return from the bathroom, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"You stole my seat," she tells Marty teasingly and his attention immediately switches from me to her.

I sigh and go back to my email.

Hi Maeve

Great news! We're happy to say we do have everything finalized for your trip to Vegas and XXXCon now, including your travel dates and suggested flights. Your accommodation is provisionally reserved for you, and we also have the full details of the panel your speech will be introducing…

The rest of the email proceeds with no great surprises or anything out of the ordinary and off the top of my head, I'm pretty sure the dates and flight times will work with what I had already pencilled in my diary. I know the hotel they've booked me in and it's nice, one of the 5-star hotels on the Strip. A five-night stay may at least mean I can adjust to the time zone a little and not be completely laid out with jet lag the whole time. Then, I start to read about the keynote speech they want me to deliver…

It will take place first thing on the second day and is in a great spot, when energy should be high and the nerves from the first day should have dissipated. There's also more information about the photoshoot they want me to do, the one I haven't yet fully committed to doing.

For the photoshoot, you will be joined by the following other content creators who are all queer, and all do a range of different things online. We may ask you to shoot some images with some of these creators, if you are comfortable. @SirJordan (he/him) – a trans BDSM educator famous for the Yes, Sir podcast. @KaylaXXX – award-winning sapphic adult performer and owner of Her Lips Studio. PornBubble's own @MilkyMia and @ElBaby, queer adult performer and top 0.05% creator on MyFans.

"What in the actual fucking hell?" I say slowly and loudly, so loudly I feel all the eyes at the table turn to me.

"Are you okay, Maeve?" Jenna slides her hand closer to me across the corner of the table. I only see it out of the corner of my eye because my stare is still fixed on my phone and on the name, @ElBaby.

"Bad news? Oh, God, I hope not. I hate bad news! That would really ruin a very lovely evening." Jake is flapping on my right.

"Maeve," my brother says when I don't reply.

"It's nothing," I say, shaking my head and trying to gather some of my senses again.

That's exactly what it is, right? It's nothing, no big deal, just a weird coincidence, and anyway, shouldn't I be more worried that I'm going to be delivering a keynote speech to a room full of sex workers when I range from being sex-averse to sex-neutral depending on the day and have only just come out as queer? Yes, actually, as it happens. I am quite worried about that.

Maybe knowing Loncey, in some form that I can't quite define, will actually help me.

"Maeve! Can you just confirm that nobody has died and that the world isn't going to end tomorrow? That would be especially inconvenient as I have a hair appointment in the afternoon when we get back to London. Thank you all for not mentioning how wild it looks," Jake says and I look up long enough to watch him run a hand through his floppy dark blond locks.

"No, it's nothing bad. It's just… it's information about my upcoming Vegas trip."

"Where you're going to deliver a speech about asexuality?" Jenna adds and I love her so much for the way she listens to me and well, everyone, so diligently.

"Yeah, kinda."

"But what's so shocking? Did they book you a four-star hotel, the scoundrels?" Marty teases.

"No, it's just… someone I know will also be there. That non-binary person I was just telling you about, in fact."

"Oh, are they asexual too?" Jenna asks.

"Not exactly," I say, flinching a little.

"What do they do?" Rami asks, splitting a piece of bread and giving Jake half.

"They are… a sex worker. An online sex worker. You know, on MyFans."

"Oh, really?" Jake's face lights up. "Tell us more!"

"I don't have much to tell. They're from the States, they have a MyFans that's pretty successful, I guess, and they're also on other social media talking about… well, sex stuff, mostly, but really it's also a lot about intimacy in general."

Marty and Jenna share a look, as Rami nods thoughtfully, listening to my every word. Meanwhile, Jake pulls his phone out of his pocket and asks, "What's their username?"

"ElBaby," I say without thinking it through, and I blame the two glasses of red wine I've drunk. My eyes land back on Jenna and Marty and when I see them look at each other again they both have slow-growing smiles on their faces.

"Oh, Jesus Christ and his mother Mary," I say, my stomach flip-flopping. "You know them already?"

"Well, we don't know them…" Jenna begins.

"Not personally anyway. But we do know of them," Marty adds with a nod, his hand now on Jenna's thigh.

"Jesus fecking wept. Are you subscribers?" I ask, very accusatorily.

"If we say yes, are we in trouble?" Jenna says apologetically.

"Fuck me into a muddy ditch, they are beautiful!" Jake declares on my other side. "Look, Rami. Look at this beautiful human being!"

"Honestly, you're all a bunch of sex-mad—"

"Now, there's no need to shame us, Maeve," Marty butts in. "We don't just watch them to… get off. Their content is very educational so it's actually sort of research for Jenna." He looks at his partner who nods in agreement. Jenna is a sex and relationships journalist and is currently working on her second book after her first was a bestseller in Ireland and the UK.

"I even expense our MyFans subscriptions, actually," she adds.

"And if you watched just one of their videos, you'd know that they're actually all about removing shame associated with sex and intimacy," Marty says. "They've helped me with—"

"You feel no shame about sex!"

"That's not true. I've had to work through a few things actually. You know I wasn't exactly sensible when I was in Ibiza all those months, and now Jenna and I are exploring the lifestyle a bit more. Things have started to come up…"

"Wait, what? The lifestyle?"

"Kink," Jake interjects. "That's what he means. Although I agree we don't really need to talk about it in great detail when our stomachs are so full."

"We don't have to talk about it at all," I mutter.

"Actually, that's one of the things ElBaby talked about in a video a while back. About how not talking about sex more openly means we internalise too many bad feelings and misunderstandings."

"Beautifully said, my love," Jenna cups Marty's cheek and he beams at her.

"But I don't need to talk about it with my brother," I say with great desperation.

"Jenna, I would encourage you to co-sign that statement," Jake adds with a sharp look at his sister

"Marty has a point, though," Rami leans forwards after handing Jake back his phone, "I learnt that in rehab this summer. Silence lets things fester and get all dirty and ugly. It's always good to talk and share and be honest, and if they're doing that about sex, a topic that is hard and complicated for so many people, that can only be a good thing."

"Beautifully said, my love," Jake repeats his sister and copies her gesture too. Rami grins widely, just like Marty did.

Fuck these loved-up eejits.

"Why do you think I'm going to a whole-arse conference to talk about asexuality? Because no matter how much sexuality is or isn't discussed, it's nowhere near as quiet or absent as any conversation about asexuality."

"You're right about that, Maeve." Jenna's hand is on mine. "The point is, I think ElBaby will be a good ally for you. They come across very well in their videos."

"I bet they come across a lot of things in their videos," Jake adds, his finger still scrolling through what is presumably one of Loncey's social media profiles. As Marty snickers and Rami tuts his boyfriend, I want to be swallowed up by an alternate universe where I simply don't have to deal with innuendo, sex and sexuality ever again.

And yet, I don't want to live in that world. Not really. At least not all the time. Because I'm not sex-repulsed, rather sex-irritable, if there is such a thing, but I suspect a lot of that has to do with my puzzling feelings about sex, and about what kind of a relationship I want or don't want to have with it.

Fuck. It's all so confusing.

I put my elbows on the table and lean my head in my hands.

"I'm sorry if that made you feel awkward, Maeve" Jenna leans closer to me as Jake shows Rami and Marty something on his phone. Probably a photo of Loncey topless, as they always are, their perfect pecs on display. "But would you rather we lied? Pretended we didn't know of their work?"

"Yes!" I say, exasperated. "I'm totally okay with lying in that context."

"Maeve," Jenna says, more gently, and her hand sneaks into the crook of my bent arm. "You know, if you think this conference will be too much for you, you can always—"

"No!" I say. "I'm going to do the keynote. I meant what I said. Asexuality is not talked about enough and allosexuals need to know more about it in order to make asexuals feel safe and welcome and understood. I know it's not exactly saving the planet, but if I can help in that one small but significant way, then I'm doing a good thing."

Jenna squeezes my arm. "You really are. And for what it's worth, I really do think Loncey will be a good colleague for you. Maybe even a friend."

I snort. I already know the chances of that are slim, but I'm suddenly too tired to argue with Jenna.

"Just don't tell your brother or he'll be demanding autographs and sending a million questions about rigging."

"Rigging?" I lift my head up to look at Jenna.

Jenna's cheeks pinken. "Oh, it's just a—"

"Don't tell me!" I hold my hand up. "And pour me another glass of wine, please. I suddenly need another drink."

Jenna dutifully obeys and I'm thankful when, after a huge gulp of wine, Jake's phone has been put away and the conversation has moved on. Jenna and I discuss their plans for decorating the room that will be the baby's but then she excuses herself, needing the toilet again, and I smile as she leaves in a small hurry. As the men continue to talk, I get my phone out and type a quick message to Loncey.

So, looks like we are going to get to meet one day soonish. I'll be in Vegas giving a keynote at XXXCon so I guess we could meet up.>

I put my phone away after that and focus on the conversation that flows between us as we drink after-dinner coffees and teas. For some reason, I feel a lot less uptight than I did a few moments ago. It must be the wine finally having an effect on me. That and maybe the way Jenna grabs my hand and rests my palm on her belly, telling me she can feel little kicks and wanting to know if I can feel them too. I can't, but still, I keep my hand on her stomach for a long time.

Eventually, Jake and Rami can't stop yawning which is unsurprising considering they were up until the early hours for Rami's set at 3Arena last night, a warm-up gig before his world tour starts at the end of the year. When they finally announce it's time for them to go home, Jenna says, "Thank fuck!" Because she was exhausted a long time ago, and Marty starts fussing about her not telling him.

Marty and Jenna drive home, while myself, Rami and Jake get a taxi. After I've dropped them off at their hotel, agreeing the time I'll see them in the morning, I give the driver my address and then sit back in the seat. That's when I finally take my phone out again. It looks like Loncey replied immediately after my last message.

Yeah, just reading that email now. Deal. As long as you promise not to overdose on sass pills.>

Feck you. Anyway, I don't know why I'm even messaging to say this. I'll probably not even recognise you with clothes on.>

Clothes? What are you talking about? Didn't they tell you it's a nudist event?>

"Ha!" The laugh rips out of me, like a loud cackle. A wave of warmth settles in my stomach. I like how they can joke with me about things like this. While I'll admit I can quickly have my fill of sexual innuendo and references, like I just did at dinner, it's also true that I am equally sensitive to people tiptoeing around my asexuality, assuming I can't cope with a single mention of sex or physical intimacy or nudity. But Loncey doesn't do that. They don't treat me with kid gloves.

That would beg the question of why an underwear brand is sponsoring a nudist panel?>

Stop being smart, Maeve. I'll start to think there's more to you than a pretty face and an acidic tongue.>

I blush at that, which annoys me just as much as them trying to flirt with me.

Well, you'd be wrong. Like you normally are, I guess.> I type back, aware I am dissing myself as much as I am them.

Are you also staying at Palm Trees Hotel?>

Yeah. But why are you staying there? Don't you live in Vegas?>

Yes, but let a hard-working enby have some luxury now and then. Also, Vegas rush hour traffic sucks.>

How many nights?>

A giddy warmth swoops through my stomach. This feels risky, like I'm pushing a boundary. I'm not sure I want to do...whatever the feck I'm doing, but no matter how hard I bite my lip, my lips keep curling into a smile.

I'm booked in for three but may only take two depending on how my sister is doing. How about you? Will you have time for that coffee with me?>

Their question makes my shoulders drop and my back press harder against the back of the chair.

Maybe. I guess a coffee and discussion about the load of shite that is astrology wouldn't kill me.>

I type out and send my reply as the taxi pulls up outside my apartment building, and it doesn't make me feel like the world is ending. It doesn't even make me feel weird. The idea of one day meeting Loncey in person almost, almost makes me feel good.