train to Rhode Island wasn’t scheduled to leave until 7:04 p.m., though it wouldn’t have been too difficult to change his ticket to an earlier train.
“Gustav?” I asked.
“You looked like you were about to give them your real name, and we’re trying to make sure no one recognizes us, right?”
I hadn’t thought of that. “Okay,” I said. “But Gustav?”
“It just popped into my brain, so I said it.” Dre was looking at his shoes, orange Converse high-tops. “I say a lot of things that pop into my brain, most of which I should probably keep to myself.”
I wasn’t going to disagree, but I did not want to get into a deep conversation while standing in the middle of a coffee shop waiting for our drinks.
“What do you want to do next?” I asked, though my enthusiasm for the day had waned. “There’s Faneuil Hall and Quincy Market. We could walk the Freedom Trail. The Museum of Science is nearby or we could go tour the USS Constitution. I’ve also got the JFK Presidential Library and Museum and the Boston Tea Party Ships and Museum on my list. It’s up to you.”
Dre shrugged noncommittally. “Whatever is fine.”
“Gustav?” the barista behind the counter called. “I have a latte and a hot chocolate for Gustav?”
Dre smiled at the young, preppy guy behind the counter as he grabbed our drinks.
“You don’t look like a Gustav,” the barista said. “Actually, you know who you look like—”
“Thanks!” He dashed for the door, and I followed after. We stood in front of the café, sipping our drinks. The awkwardness we couldn’t seem to get past huddled between us again.
“Where to, Gustav?”
“I told you I got nothing.”
“Fine,” I said. “I have an idea, then.”
“Let me guess, a museum?” Dre was smiling when he said it, and I knew he was poking fun at me, trying to ease the tension, but I wasn’t in the mood for it.
“Follow me and find out,” I said. “Or don’t. It’s up to you.” I started walking at a leisurely pace, sipping my hot chocolate and taking in the city around me. I’d been to Boston before with the debate team, and we’d managed to fit in a little sightseeing, but this was different. Being on my own was different. Being with Dre was definitely different.
Dre walked alongside me, and I could feel the frustration radiating from him in waves. I wondered if he was wishing he hadn’t gotten on the train this morning. If he was thinking he could be touring the Rhode Island School of Design instead of spending the day fighting with me. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he had been.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were attracted to guys?”
I hadn’t expected the question, and it took me a moment to answer. “Because I didn’t think it was important.”
“Not important?!” he said. “You told me you thought you were ace. Why wouldn’t you also tell me you were gay?”
“First,” I said. “Mostly attracted to men doesn’t mean always, so I’m not sure I’d call myself gay. Second, I don’t think it means the same thing to me that it means to you.”
“Back up a second. What’s that supposed to mean?” Having this conversation while dodging the other pedestrians was difficult, but Dre managed to keep up with me.
This was partly why I hadn’t told him. I didn’t know how to explain it in a way that would make sense to him. “Are you a dog or a cat person?”
“Dog, obviously.”
“Me too,” I said. “Except that I’m also allergic to both, so I don’t necessarily think of myself as a dog person.”
Dre shook his head. “That’s a terrible analogy.”
“It’s imperfect, yes—”
“It’s messed up.”
“Fine.” Now I was the one getting frustrated. “Who someone is is more important to me than what’s on the outside. Most of my crushes have been on people who happened to be men, but it’s all about who they are for me, so gender is kind of irrelevant.”
That answer seemed to give Dre pause because he didn’t immediately fire off another question. I kept us walking in the right direction, but I wasn’t in any hurry.
“Don’t you think it could help people to know the truth about you?” Dre asked. “Even if all they know is that you’re questioning? Don’t you think it’s important?”
“There’s a video of your father giving a speech at a church, and you were standing behind him with your mom wearing a shirt that said ‘Conversion therapy is torture.’”
Dre chuckled. “Yeah, Jose was