“I thought about you,” Gideon said to Mac. The bus drove through an endless stretch of deserted highway in Pennsylvania. “Over the years, sometimes the thought of you would pop into my head. I would pass you on campus, and I would have these fleeting moments where I wondered about what would’ve happened if I let you keep kissing me freshman year.”
Mac interlocked their fingers in a tight grip. “You don’t have to wonder anymore.”
They snuck a kiss while those around them were glued to their smartphones and tablets.
“I thought of you, too,” Mac said. “I hated it. Whenever I made friends with a guy in my class, I heard your stupid voice in the back of my head, telling me I was out of my mind thinking we could actually be friends.”
Gideon wanted to smack his freshman year self. Maybe Mac was out of his mind for giving Gideon a second chance. But he wouldn’t screw this one up.
Mac rested his head against Gideon’s shoulder and fell asleep for part of the journey. Gideon loved being his pillow. A man in the row across the way shot them a look that cut Gideon to the bone. He hated that this stranger made him feel that way, but he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction he wanted. He turned to the window. He knew on some level, the whispers would always be with them. The world was changing, but not fast enough.
“We’ll figure out what to do with your stuff,” Gideon said. “Don’t worry about your parents. Don’t give them another thought. They don’t deserve your energy.”
Mac gave him an uneasy smile. It was the same reaction Gideon noticed when he brought this up earlier. His face drained of color like it had in Aunt Rita’s house. Gideon thought he would be more excited that someone was standing up for him to his parents.
Gideon kissed his ear. What Mac needed most right now was support, and Gideon was happy to be the supportive boyfriend. “It’s going to be okay.”
They reached the Welcome to Duncannon sign. Gideon felt his body clench up a touch. Back in the real world, where Gideon Saperstein didn’t canoodle with his male ex-roommate.
Φ
Seth was a very methodical dribbler. He seemed to go into deep thought and used the rhythm of the bouncing ball to coordinate his attack.
“Sometime this century, man. Or else I’m going to steal.” Gideon only pretended to play defense. He used these extra seconds to prepare himself for coming out to his friend.
“You can try to steal. Doesn’t mean you’re going to be—”
Gideon stole the ball and dribbled up to do an easy lay up. He bounced it back to Seth. “Eight-four.”
Seth returned to his methodical dribbling. Gideon was dribbling in a way. He found himself stalling all night long. This was Seth. His best friend. He was cool with Mac, but maybe that was because Mac was Delia’s friend, not his.
Gideon feared the whispers. The whispers could be non-verbal. They could be the different looks Seth would give him, or maybe Seth wouldn’t want to change in the locker room with him anymore.
He blinked, and Seth dribbled around him and sunk a two-pointer.“You’re off your game,” Seth said. “Eight-five.”
“I just…I figured I had to let you score just a little to make it a fair fight.”
Seth checked the ball to Gideon who immediately spun around him and headed for the basket.
“So where were you these past few days?” Seth asked. “Did you go home or something?”
The ball hit Gideon’s shoe and almost rolled away, but he caught it. “I did. I had to see my mom.”
“A week before we’re out for winter vacation?”
“Yeah. It was nothing. I just had a funeral.” That was kind of the truth. “My Great-Uncle Mort. He was ninety-two. So I went back to Westchester for the funeral and to sit shiva.” Gideon couldn’t stop. He had gotten used to lying so much throughout his life that it was second nature. Once he started a lie, he had to keep unraveling it. Watching his friend believe him made his heart ache.
“I’m sorry, man.”
“It’s fine. He was old.” Gideon dribbled up to the basket. He didn’t take the shot. He thought about all the shots he never took.
“I’m sure he was a great guy. I lost my grandpa almost a year ago. He was ninety-nine, but it still hurt.”
“It’s…” Gideon kept dribbling. “Yeah, the service was nice. People made speeches.”
STOP
But Gideon couldn’t. This was what he did. Lies on top of lies. Giving the people the stories they wanted.
