The morning after the Bailey Ball, Rooney came back to our room at nearly midday. I’d still been asleep, but she kicked the door open so hard that it slammed against the wall, then said something about having slept at some guy’s place, before kicking off her shoes, pulling her dress over her head, and standing in the centre of the room, staring at Roderick the house plant, who was basically close to death. And then she got into bed.

She didn’t say anything about what had happened with me or with Pip.

I didn’t want to talk to her either, so as soon as I was up and dressed, I went to the library. I walked right up to the top floor where there were tables tucked behind long cases of books on finance and business. I stayed there until dinnertime, finishing one of this term’s assignments, not thinking about anything that had happened. I was definitely not thinking about anything that had happened.

When I got back, Rooney awoke, just in time for dinner in the college cafeteria.

We walked down there together, saying nothing, and we ate together sitting next to a group of students I recognised as Rooney’s acquaintances, but she still said nothing.

When we got back to our room, she changed into her pyjamas, got right back into bed, and fell asleep again. I stayed awake, staring at Pip’s jacket in the corner of the room – the one she’d left here in Freshers’ Week. The one I’d kept forgetting to give back to her.

When I woke up in our room on Sunday, I felt disgusting, realising I hadn’t showered since before the Bailey Ball.

So I showered. I got dressed in a fresh T-shirt and a warm cardigan, and I exited the room, leaving Rooney alone in bed, only her ponytail poking out of the top of her duvet.

I went to the library again with the intention of getting another essay done. My first assignments of my university life were all due next week before the winter holidays, and I still had a lot to do. But once I’d swiped into the library with my campus card and found a vacant table, I just sat there with my laptop, staring at my old message threads with Pip and Jason.

I drafted a separate message to each of them. It took two hours.

To Jason, I sent:

Georgia Warr

I’m so, so sorry for everything. I didn’t properly think about how this would affect you – I was only thinking about myself. You are one of the most important people in my life and I took advantage of that without thinking. You deserve someone who worships you. I honestly wish that I did feel that way but I can’t – I literally am not attracted to anyone, no matter their gender. I’ve tried really hard to be, but I’m just not. I’m so sorry for everything.

To Pip, I sent:

Georgia Warr

Hey, I know you’re not talking to me, and I understand why, but I just want you to know the facts: Rooney kissed me because I’ve been very confused about my sexuality and she wanted to help me see if I liked girls. This was a very dumb thing for both of us to do – it didn’t help me in any way whatsoever, wasn’t really what I wanted to do at all, and we were both drunk. We’re really not into each other and both seriously regret it. So I’m really really sorry.

Both of them read the messages within the hour. Neither of them responded.

Despite us living literally in the same bedroom, the first proper conversation I had with Rooney after the events of the Bailey Ball came on the Monday before the end of term in an introduction to drama lecture. I was sitting alone near the back, which was my usual spot, when she appeared in my peripheral vision and sat down next to me.

She was in her day look – leggings, a St John’s polo shirt, hair in a ponytail – but her eyes were wild as she stared at me and waited for me to say something.

I didn’t want to talk to her. I was annoyed at her. I knew that what had happened was my fault as well as hers, but I was angry at how she’d reacted when I’d tried to explain my feelings.

She hadn’t even tried to understand.

‘Hello,’ I said flatly.

‘Hi,’ she said back. ‘I need to talk to you.’

‘I … don’t really want to talk to you,’ I said.

‘I know. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.’

But then neither of us could, because we were both interrupted by the professor starting her lecture on Pinter’s The Birthday Party.

Instead of leaving the issue, Rooney withdrew her iPad from her bag, opened up a notes app, and laid it on the table in front of us, close enough to me so that I could see the screen. She started tapping, and I assumed she was just taking notes on the lecture, but then she stopped and pushed the screen towards me.

I’m so, so sorry about what happened at the bailey ball. It was entirely my fault and I was a fucking dick to you when you were trying to tell me something important.

Oh. OK.

That was unexpected.

I looked at Rooney. She raised her eyebrows and nodded at the iPad, gesturing for me to respond.

What was I supposed to say?

I cautiously raised my hands and began to type.

okay

Rooney paused, then tapped furiously at the keyboard.

I know we were drunk but that’s literally not an excuse for the way I acted. You know when straight guys find out that a girl is gay and they’re all like ‘haha but you haven’t kissed me so how do you know you’re gay’. That is basically what I did to you!!!

This whole time I’ve been pestering you about finding a relationship and kissing people and getting out there … I kept telling you to try with Jason and when you tried to tell me you didn’t actually want any of that, I didn’t even listen. And then I thought kissing would be a good idea because I always think kissing just solves everything!!!!

You’ve been figuring out your sexuality for months and I did everything wrong. EVERYTHING.

I had so many ideas about how people should feel about romance and sex and all that, but … it’s all just bullshit and I’m so sorry

I’m literally so dumb and I’m an asshole

I WANT YOU TO TELL ME I’M AN ASSHOLE

I raised an eyebrow and then typed,

okay you’re an asshole

Rooney actually grinned at this.

R – Thank you

G – no problem

I hadn’t even expected her to apologise, let alone understand why what she’d done had been bad.

But she had.

I decided to be bold and type out:

so as it turns out, I am aromantic asexual

Rooney gave me a look.

It wasn’t the ‘what the fuck is that?’ look that I expected.

It was a curious look. Curious. A little concerned, maybe, but not in a bad way.

Just honestly wanting to know what’s going on with me.

yeah I was confused about it too haha

it means i’m not attracted to anyone romantically or sexually

no matter their gender

sorta been figuring that out lately

Rooney watched me type. Then she took a moment to think before she responded.

R – Wow … I didn’t even know that was a thing!!! I always assumed it was like … you like guys or girls or some sort of combo

G – haha yeah same

hence all the confusion

R – It sounds really difficult to figure out … I’m proud of you!!!!!!

It was far from a perfect response to someone coming out. But it was so distinctly Rooney that it brought a smile to my face.

R – Are you feeling okay about it?

G – to be honest not really.

but

i think i will be

in time?

like … realising and accepting that this is who i am is the first couple of steps and i have done that now i guess??

Before typing a response back, Rooney simply put her head on my shoulder and rested it there for a few seconds, in lieu of a real hug, which would have been a bit difficult in the middle of a lecture.

R – I guess I can’t really relate but I’m here for you. Like, if you ever wanna rant about it or just talk things through!!

G – really??

R – Georgia. We are friends.

G – oh

R – I mean, we have KISSED. Sort of. Platonically made out.

G – i’m aware

R – Sorry about that. Again. Was it really horrible for you????

G – i mean. it did feel a little bit disgusting yes

R – Oh!!

G – no offence

R – No I like it. you’re definitely the anti-me

G – we are very opposite people, yes

R – Very refreshing

G – love that for us

R – Tasty

G – delicious content

R – 10/10

We both started giggling, and then we couldn’t stop, until the professor shushed us and we looked at each other, grinning. Everything might have been shit still, I’d hurt my two best friends and I knew I had so far to go before I could even begin to like who I was, but at least I had Rooney sitting next to me, laughing instead of crying.