Am I crazy to think there’s something between us?
Is this nothing more than the product of an overactive imagination?
I mean, when you think about it, it might be—his best friend, a guy he’s known for years and loves a lot, wanted him, and he didn’t want him back. Sure, Havi might not be his type, but maybe guys in general aren’t his type, and I’m projectingbecause sometimes it’s hard for me to understand how people could not be into someone purely based on their gender.
Maybe I’ve read the situation completely wrong. Maybe Tank is right. Maybe Lennon is just really, really beautiful, and I want him to want me so much that I’ve allowed myself to believe that he does.
Maybe blood rushed to my dick when I met him, and that’s what made my heart spin out.
I don’t know where I stand with Lennon yet, but I do know there’s no way I’m going to be someone who makes him uncomfortable. No way at all. I’ll wait as long as he needs to figure it out. I don’t care what it costs me, but I won’t be the one to chase him.
I won’t put pressure on him.
I’ll be his friend, if that’s all he wants.
31
Lennon
Ihavevoicenotesand messages from my mom and Caroline, and a missed call from my dad. It’s today.Theday. The day I’ve been consciously and subconsciously dreading for God knows how long.
I wade through work, treading water, straining to keep my head above the surface enough to avoid alerting Bev or Anna that anything amiss is afoot.
At lunchtime, Blake says, “You okay?”
I can’t tell if the way he says it is concerned, a question, or an accusation of some sort. Either way, I stutter and nod and offer him a stick of gum to distract him.
By the time I get home, the day has gotten on top of me. It’s on my chest, hands around my throat, squeezing.
It’s heavy.
Connor takes one look at me when I walk through the door and clocks me. His eyes morph into pools. Deep and endless. Seagreen that expands to the depths and envelops me. Or tries to. I resist the call of warm water, the offer of solace.
I don’t deserve it.
Instead, I stay rooted where I am.
In a bad place.
A sad place.
A dark place with room for no one but me.
We have pasta with bought sauce for dinner, and Connor makes me watchWhen Harry Met Sallyafterward. He sits close to me on the sofa, his shoulder almost touching mine. I resist the call to lean in. Today, of all days, it would be sacrilegious.
The movie is four hours long, and the plot is so complex that I can’t follow it no matter how hard I try.
When the credits roll, I’m on my feet like a shot. I think I tell Connor good night, but I’m not sure if I actually do or if I only mean to.
He’s on his feet too, standing in front of me in the hall. He’s almost exactly the same height as me, so when I look at him, there’s no way I can avoid eye contact.
“That bad, huh?” he says with no accusation, only understanding.
It almost takes my knees out. I wish he weren’t so fucking lovely. So fucking kind, and so fucking empathetic. More than anything, today of all days, I wish I wasn’t here, and it wasn’t him.
Obviously, I can’t say any of that, so I nod tersely.
Endless pools glisten, calling to me, inviting me in. I resist.
