“And fuck you, Maclain.” He unscrewed the cap on his soda. “You’ve been a dick to me for months and don’t deserve my opinion, but I gave it to you anyway.”
“You’re right,” I admitted, and that felt like relief too. Go figure. I’d had my emotions wrapped up so tight, I didn’t even know anymore what it felt like without all my defenses up.
“Halle-fucking-lujah,” he said through gritted teeth. “Even though you’ve been a complete shit, I’m still here if you need any advice.”
“Gee, thanks,” I scoffed, raising my walls again.
“Whatever,” he grumbled, giving me his back on his way out of the kitchen.
“Wait.” Donovan froze, then slowly turned to face me. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to…not be afraid.”
It was the most honest I’d ever been with him, and he owed me absolutely nothing in return.
He stared at me a long moment. “Yeah, it’s scary at first. But being free—your true self—is such an incredible feeling. Still, it doesn’t mean all your problems are solved. You’ll have to decide with each person and in every situation how much you’re willing to show of yourself. But finally being open with people you trust and care about is… Well, it’s everything.”
He had this dreamy smile on his face that made me breathless. I wanted that feeling so bad, and I didn’t know what to do with that.
“But what about the ones who won’t understand or accept it?”
Realization dawned on his face, so he likely knew I was referring to my dad. “You’ll have to decide how much you’ll allow them in your life—or in your confidence. Not always an easy decision.”
“Thanks, Donovan.” And I meant it. This conversation was long overdue, and I was to blame for not having it sooner. “Guess you’re all right.”
“Ass.” He smirked and fist-bumped me. “Oh, almost forgot. Kellan wanted me to give you a stack of fundraiser fliers to pass out around campus.”
“Okay, cool.” I waited as he ran out to his car to get them.
He came back in, handed me a large envelope of fliers, then waved goodbye, but just as he was about to head back out, he turned. “And hey, Kellan and I are meeting Jasmine and Tanya at Neon tonight if you want to hang out in a place where you can be yourself.”
I felt my stomach tighten. “No, thanks.”
“I get it. It was scary my first time too. So suit yourself.” He gripped the door handle. “Just so you know, I invited Girard too because he seemed interested in San Diego, so if you change your mind…”
Goddamn it. I mumbled another thanks as he grabbed his keys and left the house, no doubt to head over to Kellan and Jasmine’s place.
I ate my soup, then went to my room, where I opened my laptop and got started on a couple of assignments. But I couldn’t concentrate, so I grabbed my phone instead.
Tell your mom thanks again. I swear that soup was the best I had.
Told you so. I have no idea why she likes your grouchy ass so much.
Obviously because I’m awesome. I took a deep breath, then typed: Hey, are you meeting them out tonight?
Why, you interested?
No, but I know you are.
The idea of him going alone sat like a heavy stone in my gut. Supposed that made me a jealous ass, especially since I had no rights to Girard.
Come pick me up and go together?
I don’t know.
If we hate it, we can leave.
What if only one of us hates it?
We make a deal. Arrive and leave together.
I like that idea.
Then pick my ass up.
See you in an hour.
A little while later, I got changed into something more decent than sweats and headed to my car. Girard met me in the back parking lot of the bowling alley and slid into the passenger seat as I punched the address for Neon into my GPS.
It was tense in the car on the way there. Girard must’ve known I was nervous, so he didn’t try to make small talk, which I appreciated.
After I found a place to park on an adjacent street, I hesitated behind the wheel.
“Hey, it’s only a bar. Filled with lots of different people.” He placed his warm hand on my thigh, and I shivered. His touch had that effect on me. “Probably even people just like us, going for the first time.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I said as my shoulders unwound. “You’re good at that, you know?”
“What?”
“Making me feel calmer.”
“Yeah?” The flush on his cheeks was endearing. “Well, you’re good at ramping me up, so let’s go before I either strangle you or maul you.”
We smiled goofily at each other as we got out and joined the line at the door. I felt a bit self-conscious, like someone from campus or one of our teammates was going to spot us standing there, which was ridiculous.
When we finally got inside, I realized it wasn’t much different than the straight clubs I’d gone to a dozen times—loud music, sweaty bodies, a couple of bars, and pockets of people standing everywhere. But as we moved through the crowd to get drinks, small differences stood out. Like same-sex couples holding hands or making out, dancing close, and plenty of interested looks from different sorts of men. When Girard’s hand brushed my waist, no doubt so we wouldn’t lose each other, I nearly flinched, even though I liked the contact. I really liked it. And then I remembered where we were and that nobody would bat an eye, and I reveled in it.
Once we ordered drinks from a bartender who wore cutoff shorts that left little to the imagination—damn—we turned toward the crowd to jostle for a place to stand because it seemed even more packed than when we’d first arrived.
We moved toward one of the columns near the dance floor, neither of us saying much, just taking it all in, when I noticed an older guy—who happened to be good-looking, I could at least acknowledge that—sizing us up.
My skin tingled in this strange way as he moved toward us, and had I been in a straight club, I would’ve known exactly how this was going to go down. Talking, flirting, possibly hooking up. But now I felt like a fish out of water, and that made my pulse pitch. When the guy sidled up to Girard and gave him the once-over, I tried to see it from his point of view. Girard was gorgeous—inside and out—so it made sense that plenty of men would have him in their sights. But I couldn’t douse the blistering fire in my gut as the man inched ever closer. I recognized the feeling as jealously, or maybe possessiveness, something I’d only ever felt with Girard, and it was definitely messing with my head.
“Having fun?” the guy asked Girard in this deep, suggestive voice, and I pretended to watch the dance floor, feigning obliviousness, even as all my muscles tightened. I couldn’t help wondering how Girard would respond if he were here alone. He’d said he was curious from the onset—we’d even played that ridiculous game in the hotel room—and now I questioned if I was somehow holding him back.
“Not sure. We just got here,” Girard replied with a little chuckle. His hand brushed over mine and he knotted our fingers together.
My hands were trembling, my pulse pounding, and I was trying so hard not to read into it, but it was like Girard was making a point that we were in this together—or just together. And I didn’t realize how much I would like it, how much I would crave it.