Lee groans when she forces herself up on her elbow, rolling around so her stomach is pressed to his. “You aren't,” she says. She kisses him, but it's a very chaste kiss, lips closed, no tongue. “We are big weird homos together.”
The exact word doesn't matter so much to her. People call her a lot of different inaccurate things, most of them upsetting and vulgar.
She rests her head in the crook where his neck and shoulder meet, trying not to apply as much pressure to the burned parts.