Well. I’d like to say that after years of being out and coming to terms with myself, and homophobia, and the rest of it all, that I’d be able to brush that one off. But it hurt. It always hurt a little, at least, to know people were talking about you in a less than flattering way. Being so new at the school, though, and people already having an opinion about me? And Will being involved in it? Had he even tried to defend me? Or had he laughed along with them?
“Uh-huh.” My tone was flat.
“I don’t join in,” he added quickly.
But do you stop them?
Suddenly, I laughed. It spilled like blood from a fresh wound. Out and out and out.
“What’s so funny?”
“We’re in a closet.”
“I told you, I didn’t want—”
“You dragged me into a closet to have this conversation. Did you do this on purpose, or what? Unbelievable.”
“I don’t …” Will started, then it must’ve clicked. “Really, Ollie? Super mature.”
“I’m immature? You’re too afraid to be seen talking to me. Are we done?” It was funny. All this time, I’d been through so many emotions. Hurt. Betrayal. Sadness. Acceptance. Maybe a bit—okay, maybe a lot—of longing. But I hadn’t been angry. At least, I hadn’t realized I was so angry. Here I was, however, bubbling right up and over. Pissed off as all hell.
“We haven’t even started. Can you give me a chance to explain?”
A chance? We’d been talking for at least five minutes now.
“… Ollie?”
“Yes, I’m listening, whatever. Go.”
“I wasn’t ignoring you, I swear. My parents caught me coming home that night and went nuts. They confiscated my phone, I wasn’t allowed to touch my laptop, nothing. For three weeks. It was ridiculous.”
Yeah, yeah, I knew all this. I considered pointing out that he’d told people he was with girls that night, but I couldn’t even be bothered going down that road with him. It’d only conflate things. “It’s cool. Really. I’m more concerned with how you acted at the party. What was that? The conversation with your friend must have been really riveting for you to forget I was there so quickly.”
My eyes had started adjusting to the darkness. There he was. Leaning against the door, one hand draped across his stomach, the finger of the other in his mouth. He was looking right at me, at least. Suddenly, I was self-conscious. How did I look today? Had I put enough effort in getting ready this morning? Had I checked my teeth before I left the house?
“You told the girls about me. I freaked out, okay?”
“I’m sorry. Really, I—”
“I know you are! I’m not mad. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. You had no idea. But that doesn’t mean it’s all fine, you know? I mean, what if they tell someone?”
“They haven’t yet.”
“Yet. If my parents found out … Ollie …”
I didn’t reply. Because what could I say to that? My whole face flushed with shame, the anger temporarily forgotten. It was all my fault he’d been put in this situation. Whether I meant to or not. Why hadn’t I kept my damn mouth shut? I hadn’t even known those girls and I’d spilled out my life story. Or at least my summer story. Which was more torrid than the rest of my life combined, to be fair.
Will hugged himself with both arms and stared at the ground. “I wasn’t good enough to get a basketball scholarship, so I’m relying on them to support me. I can’t fuck anything up this year, or I’m done.”
And a fuckup would include … right.
“I see.”
“I didn’t know what to do. I mean, Jesus, it’s not like I expected you to be here. It’s so ridiculous.”
That was another thing with Will. Everything was “ridiculous,” from minor anomalies to life-altering events. I had to fight a smile hearing that word again. Even if it did kind of apply in this situation.
“I was scared, okay? What I did over the summer … like, what we did, isn’t something I would’ve done with anyone from around here. I thought it was safe.”
Right. So he’d been counting on never having to see me again. Bam. Ouch.
“Then it’s like, oh, hey, Ollie is right fucking there, and now some people know, and for a second I thought that was it. Like well, here we go, now everyone’s about to find out everything.” He paused to let me speak. When I didn’t, he went on. “I had to see you, though. I haven’t thought about anything else since the party. I was just scared. I mean, you’re here.”
He touched my arm. Even though it made me shiver, and my blood heat up by several degrees, and my stomach kick up, I yanked away. The anger was well and truly back, and it wasn’t having any of my body’s romance bullshit.
Will blinked at me, hurt. “I’m so glad to see you,” he tried.
“Yeah, I can tell,” I said, gesturing at the walls. So glad to see me he couldn’t even be seen speaking to me. So glad he’d taken two weeks to text me after getting his phone back. Clearly he was rapturous.
“I have to get to class,” I said, trying to push past him.
He blocked me. “Wait.”
“I have claustrophobia.”
“You do not.”
“As romantic as I find chatting around dustpans and rags, Will, I think I’m going to have to decline. Let me know if you ever want to talk somewhere with oxygen, but until then, good luck with college.”
“Don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not mad.” The lie was so blatant that Will scoffed at me. I didn’t care. “We’re late. Come on.”
“No.”
“Fine. Suit yourself.” I squeezed past him and opened the door. Sweet air and light.
Will hesitated. Like he expected me to go back in and join him for a bit longer. To do what? Have another somewhat heartbreaking conversation? Kiss him? In a goddamnit-I-can’t-believe-I’m-even-saying-this closet? No way.
When he didn’t follow, I gave him a sweet smile, and shut the door on him. Right in his face. I stared at the door, surprised at my own gall. I didn’t know I had that much sass dwelling under the surface. I felt a little guilty, but mostly I was impressed with myself.
With a tiny laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob— except it couldn’t be, because I’d promised not to cry anymore—I turned on my heel and hurried to class without turning back to see if Will had let himself out.
I’d won that round. The spiteful side of me was polishing a trophy with a smug grin.
So why was the rest of me so hollow?
9
“Who are these guys again?”
Will’s cheek was barely an inch from mine. We lay side by side on my bed, sharing headphones. It was one of those rare afternoons where I’d managed to score the house to myself. Our fingertips were spidering around each other’s, our hands resting on my thigh.
I bumped my phone to light it up for him. “Letlive. Good, right?”
“Surprisingly, yes.”
“Surprising because you’re a music snob?”
Will smiled, and touched his temple to mine. “Shut up.” His tone was all warm and tender. The way a guy talks to someone he really likes. I knew that tone. It was the first time I’d heard him use it. A part of me died with happiness. Straight-up curled into a ball and died. “I guess whenever I hear the word ‘punk,’ I think, like, Blink-182 or Fall Out Boy.”