me? Is this why he wanted me to know? Does he want me to tell him right now? Does he even know I’ve never told anyone?
A part of me wants me to come out to him. To just say fuck it and jump in. I think that’s what he wants, and his knowing would be kind of awesome.
I think about doing it … but then swerve away at the last second.
It’s too scary. I’m not ready.
“How was coming out?” I ask. “I’ve heard it’s, like, rough for some people.”
He maintains eye contact. “I won’t lie, it was scary. And it wasn’t great for a while. It was just … weird. I came out at fourteen.”
“Wait, fourteen? That’s so young.”
He leans back against the chair. “Eh, I’ve known pretty much my whole life, so it didn’t feel young to me. Anyway, my mom was fine, but Dad was a bit of a dick about it. I think he maybe thinks when I’m older I’ll straighten out, like this is some sort of trend I’m following.”
I lean back so we’re both up against the backrest. Our arms are so close to touching. His hand is resting on the couch. He has really pretty hands, with long, dainty fingers. There’s a freckle on his wrist. I wonder what it’d be like to circle it with my fingertips.
I glance up.
He’s so handsome.
And now I know he might be an option. Because I’m picking up a vibe that he would make out with me, if I went for it. But is that all he wants? To hook up with me?
I’d actually hate that. I’d rather have a friend.
I don’t want this to be a one-and-done type deal. Even if his lips are such a nice shade of pink and look sort of glossy right now. And even if I can see the curve of his muscles through his shirt.
I don’t want to be just a conquest for him.
I want to be more than that.
Oh God, I’m so glad nobody can hear my thoughts.
“That’s so stupid,” I say quietly. I think we’ve both forgotten about the game. “He should realize it doesn’t work like that.”
“Yeah, it doesn’t. Trust me, I know.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It sucks that your dad makes you feel like that.”
He nods. “Thanks for being cool. You can never tell with guys. Girls are pretty much always fine with it, but with guys, it’s a total crapshoot.”
“Did you just make a gambling reference? Are you sure you’re gay?”
“Shut up!”
He laughs and pushes me. His hand rests on my stomach for a second too long.
“But, yeah, I’m very sure,” he says. “Guys just do it for me. They make me feel like I’m, like, on fire. It’s that intense.”
I glance down. It feels like a barrier has been broken.
That touching each other is okay now.
The moment passes. The walls go back up.
“Wait,” I say. “What about your baseball team?”
“I told you I play baseball?”
I nod. I feel a little busted. He only told me once, and I remembered. I’m not sure if that’s weird.
I’m sure stuff like that will give away my sexuality. And if he knows about me, then we might make out or something. Which would be great.
But risky.
What if we don’t click romantically? That’d be the end of things. And I’ve never been kissed. Not even once. What if I’m not good at it? Right away, at least.
“Um, yeah,” I say. “You did. Or was it basketball?”
“No, you were right the first time. Good memory. But yeah, the team seems fine with it. I think they have to be; they know how much trouble they’d get into if they said anything homophobic.” He stares off into the distance, clearly remembering something. “After I came out my coach did a whole speech about how we’re a team and how our personal lives shouldn’t impact that. I normally don’t like being fussed over, but that was pretty great.”
I can picture it now. Him, blushing, while his coach grills his team.
“Anyway,” he says. “Now that’s out there, let’s play Smash Bros. I mean the game, by the way, in case your mind is in the gutter.”
I freeze, my eyes wide.
“I’m just messing with you,” he says, and he nudges my leg with his. “No need to freak.”
“Sorry. I’m just getting used to it. I don’t want to say the wrong thing.”
“You’re not secretly a homophobe, are you?”
“No.”
“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Cool.”
The game finally starts. It feels like the most intense of all