“They were pretty verbal with me and Dee,” Wyatt explains. “I always thought it was weird that they could treat you guys fine, when back home they made no bones about what they believed was right and wrong. Dee—”
I hold up my hand to silence him. “I’ll tell them.” Wyatt likes to take care of me, and I love that he does, but if I’m going to figure this out, I have to learn to deal with these things on my own. I hope that starting here, among our friends, will make it easier to face the rest of the world.
“I hid my sexuality from everyone and denied it to myself. I’m not proud of it, but I hid it from you guys, from my parents, from Wyatt and Cassidy. Well, until Wyatt confronted me a few years ago and I finally told him the truth.” Wyatt holds my gaze, and I read a hundred things in his eyes. That he’s there for me, that I don’t need to explain anything. That he’ll take care of it, which only makes me want to stand up and do it on my own even more.
“I did date a guy in college,” I admit. “But it was just to fit in and to be able to go to parties without being hit on.”
“Aw, Delilah. Plenty of gay people hook up with straight people to fit in. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Tristan touches my arm again.
“If what you’re saying about your parents is true, it’s people like that who cause their kids to commit suicide and feel ashamed of themselves.” Brandon sips my coffee. “Been there, done that. Well, not the suicidal part.”
“Hey, our parents aren’t here to defend themselves,” Wyatt says in a serious voice. “Believe me, Brandon, if anyone wants to give my parents hell, it’s me. But that’s my place, not yours, so be respectful.”
Brandon turned a serious and respectful gaze to Wyatt. “Sorry, man.”
“I know lots of people do that, Tristan, but I’m not sure how to get past it, and I want to. I desperately want to.” The hurt in Ashley’s eyes crashes back in like a wave breaking in my chest.
Cassidy moves from Wyatt’s lap and pulls up the empty chair next to me. She sits down and leans in close. Cassidy grew up around the corner from us in Connecticut. Her parents were never around, so she spent lots of time at our house, and until meeting Ashley, Cassidy was my closest female friend.
“Delilah, I’m sure that right now it seems like you have two choices—come out to everyone or live a secret life. But it’s really not that black-and-white. Have you talked to Ashley about this?”
I nod, thankful that she understands, too. “She knows, and she still wants to be with me.”
Cassidy looks at Wyatt and smiles, then looks at me again. “Then it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Just do what comes naturally.”
“Sometimes doing what comes naturally is the hardest thing on earth.”
Chapter Seven
~Ashley~
THIS HAS BEEN the longest day of my life. Learning to surf is about a million times harder than I thought it was going to be, and I had a terrible time trying to concentrate on anything other than Delilah. Drake was patient as a saint, but every time he held on to my board to steady me, I wished he was Delilah. When he cheered me on, I wanted it to be her who was proud of me. And I knew she would be. I kept looking up at the dunes, where she and I have been meeting in the early mornings, hoping she’d appear.
And then there is the war that’s been raging between my head and my heart. I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with anyone who wasn’t out. I’ve been down this road. I know how painful it is, and yet here I am, doing it again.
Oh, Delilah, what am I going to do?
Luckily, the surf shop was superbusy today, so I didn’t have much downtime to brood or count down the hours until I’d see Delilah again. After work I stopped at the Harborside General Store to pick up a few things, like Delilah’s favorite crackers and hot chocolate.
I check the clock. She’s going to be here any minute. She had to work until ten, and it’s almost ten fifteen. She’s been to my apartment a million times, but tonight I’m extra nervous. I’ve already washed and changed my sheets, run the vacuum, showered, and put on the prettiest underwear and bra that I own under one of my regular tops and shorts, so I don’t look too eager. It’s been a long time since I cared about any of these things, and even though I know Delilah won’t care if my apartment is messy or my underwear doesn’t match my bra, I can’t help the fluttering in my chest or the anticipation that’s been building since she first returned my text this morning and asked if she could see me tonight.