He interrupts to sputter a laugh, and she laughs too, and it's so so easy to fall into, even as much as the inside of her feels a little hollowed out. Because it's Gansey. It's not a Gansey she knows everything about, not yet, and it's not the Gansey that knows this version of her the best, but it's still Gansey and it's painfully easy to relax around him.

Besides, it's abruptly relieving for his own laughter to reassure her that of course he doesn't care, why would he? Raised on red tie affairs Gansey might be, but he's not churchy, and his loyalty runs deeper than just about any trait that could be assigned to somebody. It's just that -- well, it's not always something you can predict, about people. If they'll be okay with someone's sexuality. In Virginia, it's much less fraught to predict that they won't, no matter how well you know them, and she's sure that's one reason why Ronan never said anything.

He looks at her sideways, and she looks at him back; he's clearly wondering the same thing about her.

"Well, good," she says, defiant of his querying eyes, "at least eventually they finally admit it there too."

She looks at the floor and chews on her lip, glancing back up. "Me, too," she says after a minute. "I mean, I like girls too, sometimes. As it turns out." It feels like a confession. It's not that she thinks Gansey will judge her; it's that she's had feelings for anyone else that knots up her stomach. Even with Krem and Hild's advice in her head; even with her own stubborn will to do and be only what she wants raging in the back of her skull: it still feels like she's betraying him.