Out of Nowhere(106)

“Thanks,” I say. “For not hating me.”

X glares at me. “I’m gonna try really hard to remember that you’re freaked and not take it super fucking personally that you thought I might care.” He shakes his head at me like I’m the biggest idiot to walk the earth. “So, who’s the guy?”

“What? What guy? Why d’you think there’s a guy?”

“You’re not the confessional type, C. Not a big sharer, ya know. So I figure there’s a reason for you to tell me after all these years.” He winks at me. “Unless of course it’s because you finally want to confess your love for me.”

I smack X, spilling lemonade on the counter in the process, and he cackles.

“Nah, it’s cool, bro. I’ll keep it on the DL with you.” This time when I move to push him off his stool, he wards me off, suddenly serious. “For real, if I mess up this kitchen, Angela will have my ass.”

We both crack up at the same moment, and when we’ve finally calmed down, X toasts me with his lemonade, walks into the living room, and flips on the TV, settling back against the couch like things are exactly as they’ve always been.





X KNOWS. The kids at YA know. Daniel knows. And no one cares. That’s what I’ve been saying over and over to myself for the last few days. No one cares and I feel… better. Not just because people know I’m gay. (I can’t get used to that phrase no matter how many times I think it.) But because I’m doing something. I’m not just sitting around waiting for things to happen the way I always have.

The next thing that has to happen? I have to tell Brian and Sam. Not because of some bullshit like they deserve to know. But because I’m so fucking tired of how much energy it takes to keep it a secret. I was thinking of Anders and all the work he has to do. He had to tell his parents that he was just going to YA with Mikal in support. Had to sneak around to meet up with his friends. Keep his phone turned off and in his pocket whenever he was at home in case a text came that would give everything away. And all of it just to feel safe in his own house.

In one of the texts Anders sent me a few days ago, he said he wanted to start practicing a new violin piece for a recital that’s coming up but because of all the lies and the fear and the way he’s constantly on guard, he just didn’t have the energy.

That hit me hard. Made me wonder how many things I might have done if I hadn’t spent so much energy hiding.

Now I feel like I’m going to puke with nerves and I can’t stop jiggling my knees and cracking my knuckles as I wait for Sam to show up. He thinks we’re meeting to talk about the shop, and when he walks through the door, I actually think I might pass out.

“Hey,” he says. “Been a while.”

He looks tired, or maybe just still sad about Pop.

We go into the kitchen to make coffee and the smell of it nearly turns my stomach. My knees are like jelly.

I can hear Brian in the shower, but the idea of standing there with Sam until he gets out is unbearable. I pound on the bathroom door. “Brian, can you get out here for a minute?”

“Dude, what the hell?” Sam asks, pouring coffee into the lumpy green mug he always uses.

I shake my head and pour my own coffee.

“What? What’s wrong? What’s up?” Brian says, crashing out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips and a spot of lather in his wet hair. He blinks confusedly at Sam and me drinking coffee in the kitchen. “You okay?” he asks.

“Don’t look at me,” Sam says, nodding at me.

“Yeah. Yeah, fine, I just wanted….”

“Okay, business stuff—it’s cool,” Brian offers, and I jump on it.

“Right, so. Are you guys cool with expanding or whatever to take on vehicles Pop never liked working on?”

“You’re the one who’s good at those repairs, bro,” Sam says. “It’s fine by me, but it’d mostly be on you.”

“Yeah, fine by me,” Brian echoes. “I’m not really involved anymore, anyway.”

“Okay,” I say, staring at the floor.

“Um,” Brian says, “that it? ’Cause….” He gestures to his wet hair.

My throat feels tight and my mouth is clamped shut. I squeeze my eyes shut and picture the icy calm of the winter ocean at Rafe’s beach house—the way the waves broke on the shore and were pulled back together every time.

“I… I… I’mdatingaman,” I spit out, my heart pounding with relief as the words linger in the air.

“Um, what?” Brian says. “Sorry, didn’t catch that.”