My jaw tightens instantly. "Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean?" The sharpness in my voice could cut through steel. My eyes narrow into a glare that, if looks could kill, would've buried him six feet under.
He raises his hands defensively, though the smirk tugging at his lips undermines the gesture. "Well, you know…" he says vaguely, like that's supposed to explain anything.
I take a step closer, my anger radiating off me in waves. "No. No, I don't. Care to explain?"
Elliot finally drops his gaze, staring at the flour-dusted counter as if it suddenly became fascinating. "Gay guys are… a lot softer, you know?" His voice is quieter now, but it still lands like a slap.
I let out a sharp scoff. "Wow." The word comes out clipped, my chest tight with the effort of holding back more colorful language. I snatch the towel from beside me, roughly wiping the flour from my hands before tossing it at him , not hard enough to hurt, but with just enough force to make my point.
