I nod and wonder what’s changed.
“How’s the whole vow of silence thing going?” he asks.
I shrug, and then I take out my whiteboard and write, How’s GSA?
“It’s a lot of work,” he says, “but I think it’ll be worth it. My older sister, Dana, is actually the one who suggested starting it to me. She didn’t come out until college, but she told me she always wished there’d been something like that for her in high school.” He stops for a second, mouth turning down. “Were you…thinking of coming to a meeting?”
I shake my head. I’m not stupid. I know where I’m not wanted.
“Good,” he says, relaxing. “I mean, I wouldn’t stop you, of course, but I just think—I think it might be uncomfortable if you did. For everyone.”
I realize Brendon’s probably right, but the implication still stings. I guess this shows how much he really thinks of me.
I look down at where he’s touching me. He’s wearing this button-down shirt and a sweater over it, as preppy and clean-cut as ever. The sleeves are rolled up enough to show off his forearms. They look strong, muscular, not at all like Sam’s. And even now, in the middle of winter, his skin is all golden tan. He told me he spent Christmas vacation in Miami, and I acted jealous at the time, but really, I thought it was kind of ridiculous. I mean, Christmas is like the one time of the year where it’s nice to have snow on the ground. Christmas without snow is like the Fourth of July without fireworks and barbecues, or wearing leggings as pants. Just wrong.
What’s really wrong is that I’m looking at Brendon’s sexy arms and all I can think about is snow.
“Brendon?”
A heavyset kid with glasses approaches, his hands twisting nervously around the straps of his backpack. He looks from me to Brendon…like he’s afraid he’s intruding.
“Sorry,” he says, “I just wanted to ask you about something about next week’s meeting.”