“Uhm.” He lowers the drink, bending over to set it on the ground next to the bed. “Are you…did you just come out to me?”
“Huh. I guess I did.” Setting my own drink on the floor, I lie back and pillow my head on my arms. “I don’t know, though, Mick. I think I need to just talk this out.”
“Oh. Well, yeah. Okay. I can talk.” He clears his throat. “Listen, I mean.”
“All right. So, I met this guy at a party last year and I wasfeelinghim. Like…I looked across the room, and there he was, and I just…” I trail off, feeling oddly embarrassed. “Anyway, so I sucked his dick and now I’m obsessed with him.”
Micky’s face is an alarming shade of red, now, freckles nearly obliterated beneath the blush. He clears his throat and twitches his shoulder in a partial shrug.
“Yikes,” he says, as though unable to think of another response to that.
“Yikes,” I agree. “And then we had phone sex, and he gave me a blowjob. And then we talked all summer, which was great. But…like, how the fuck does this happen? Take right now, for example. I’m looking at you and I’m thinkingwow, look how cute Micky is with all those freckles.”
“Oh my god,” he mumbles, cheeks crimson.
“Before I met Marcos, I felt like my interest in guys was more…an appreciation? Like, I’d look at a man and think about how I wanted to have arms like that. But now it’s like, maybe I’m appreciating the way you look because I want to fuck you, not look like you.”
“Oh my god,” Micky repeats. Picking up his hot chocolate, he takes an overly large gulp and coughs a little bit.
“So, that’s where I’m at. I went out a couple times over the summer. It was fine and I enjoyed myself, but I still just…I still think about Marcos. And I’m fucking confused about it, and he sort of treats me like we’re buddies and nothing more. So, maybe he doesn’t want to get together again? I don’t know. Atlas says he doesn’t actually like me, he just likes having sex, which, you know, makes me feel great.”
“I, uh…I’m happy you’re gay. I mean, I’m happy you…shut up.” He groans when I hack out a laugh, trying not to spit hot chocolate all over his bed. Rubbing a hand over his face, he hides his eyes as he says, “Thank you for telling me.”
“Well, I can’t very well keep a secret from my number one,can I?” Reaching over, I pat his leg. He looks so embarrassed, I’m surprised he hasn’t keeled over dead yet.
“Marcos?” he prompts, voice low.
“Yeah, shit. I probably shouldn’t have told you his name. He plays things pretty close to the chest. I don’t know what the hell I’m allowed to say or who I can say it to.”
“I won’t tell anyone. And I don’t know any Marcos, anyway.”
“I know.” Groaning, I adjust my hips and settle in a little more comfortably on his bed. “So. Got any wise words for me? What would one of the heroes in your books say?”
“I…I don’t think I’m the right person to talk to,” he whispers.
“Because you don’t like guys? That’s fine. You know how I am—sometimes I just need to throw words at you, and then I can figure it out myself. I’m just a little bit floored by the whole thing, that’s all. It seems crazy that I never realized I’m into dick before now, you know? Apparently, I have zero self-awareness.”
“You’re not…are you mad about it? Or…disgusted?”
I laugh, until I glance over and see his face. Oh, he’s seriously asking.
“No. Of course not,” I reply, a little bit hurt by the question. I frown at him. “I don’t think queer people are disgusting.”
“No,” he says quickly, face turning even redder. “That’s not what I meant. I just mean…sometimes people are okay with gay people in theory, but they wouldn’t want to actually be mistaken for a gay person themselves. Sorry.”
“You’ve got a good point, but no. It doesn’t bother me that I like Marcos. What bothers me is I’m kind of feeling alone in this whole thing. Back home, my friends and I don’t reallytalk about shit other than sports and the ranch. Same with my parents. I just didn’t feel comfortable asking them for advice on dating a guy. And now it’s like the only people I know who are queer aren’t people I can talk to. Atlas was no help, and it’s not like I can barge into Coach’s office and tell him about blowjobs.”
Micky fidgets uneasily. I probably shouldn’t even be here talking to him about this stuff. I try to keep things light and airy with him, knowing how easily he gets uncomfortable. Me coming in here and talking about spontaneous dick sucking is going to send him over the edge.
“Sorry, buddy. We can talk about something else.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m glad you told me. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t talk to anyone—to me—though. I…” He laughs awkwardly, turning away and staring at the opposite wall. When he speaks again, his voice is so small I can barely hear the words. “I like men, too.”
I refrain from sitting up and hugging him, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate an over-the-top reaction. Instead, I reach a hand over and nudge his thigh until he reluctantly meets my eyes.
“That’s okay,” I tell him, and he takes a deep inhale.
“I know. I’ve never said that out loud before. I’m already kind of wishing I hadn’t said it right now.” He laughs again, but it’s one of the saddest sounds I’ve ever heard him make.
