I stare at him. Blink. Stare some more. "I'm sorry, what?"
"I think I might be gay, or bi, or something," he says, still strangely calm about dropping this bombshell on me in a campus coffee shop. "I've only dated women before, but it never felt right, you know? And my best friend Tyler came out as bi a few months ago, and it got me thinking, and I've been noticing guys more, and?—"
"Wait, wait," I hold up a hand. "You want me to... what? Give you gay lessons in exchange for tutoring me in psychology?"
"Basically, yeah." He looks at me hopefully. "I mean, you clearly have experience being gay?—"
"How do you know that?" I interrupt, feeling strangely exposed.
He shrugs. "Even when we first met, and you seemed to hate me, your pupils dilated when you were looking at my arms. Classic physiological sign of attraction."
I choke on my coffee for real this time, sputtering and coughing as he quickly hands me a napkin.
"It was your hands," I mutter without thinking, once I've recovered, then immediately want to die of embarrassment.Oh god, kill me now! Shut up, you idiot.
"My hands?" He looks genuinely surprised, glancing down at his large, calloused palms. "Really?"
"That's not—I mean—" I take a deep breath. "Look, this is ridiculous. I don't 'teach' people how to be gay. That's not how sexuality works. You're either attracted to men, or you're not."
"I know that," he says. "I'm not asking you to make me gay. I'm asking for... guidance? Information? I grew up in a really small town where being anything but straight wasn't an option. I don't know the culture, the etiquette, how to tell if another guy is interested… any of it."
I stare at him, torn between disbelief and a strange sort of fascination. "So you want... gay mentorship."
"Exactly!" He brightens. "Like a cultural exchange program, but for sexuality."
I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. "This is insane. Why me? Why not ask your friend Tyler?"
"Tyler's still figuring things out himself," Gavin says. "Plus, he's all wrapped up in his new relationship. And I don't know that many out guys. But you seem really confident about who you are."
The irony of being described as "confident" when I'm internally screaming is not lost on me.
"This is a terrible idea," I say firmly. "For one thing, I don't date jocks. And I'm not interested in being someone's experimental phase."
"I'm not asking you to date me," Gavin says quickly. "Just to, you know, show me the ropes. And for the record, I'm more than just a 'jock.' You shouldn't judge people so quickly."
That hits uncomfortably close to home. I have been judging him based on appearances, something I hate when others do it to me.
I take a sip of my coffee, buying time to think. On one hand, this is possibly the strangest proposition I've ever received. On the other hand, I do need to pass Psychology, and the other tutors through the university's academic center are booked solid, I know I checked… just in case.
"Let me get this straight," I say finally. "No pun intended. You'll tutor me in psychology, and in exchange, I'll... what? Take you to gay bars? Teach you gay slang? What exactly would this entail?"
"Whatever you think would be helpful," he says earnestly. "I just want to understand this part of myself better. Figure out if what I'm feeling is real."
"And if I say no?"
"Then I'll still tutor you," he says with a shrug. "Like I said, Harrington asked me to help. But I'd really appreciate your help too."
I study him, looking for signs of mockery or hidden agendas, but all I see is genuine openness. It's… unnerving.
"This isn't something to take lightly," I warn him. "Coming out has consequences. People treat you differently. Family relationships can change. Are you prepared for that?"
"I've thought about it," he says, suddenly looking more serious than I've seen him yet. "My dad would... well, it wouldn't be good. But I'm tired of not being honest with myself."
Against my better judgment, I find myself considering it. It's not like I have a thriving social life that would be disrupted by adding "Gay 101 instructor" to my resume. And his straightforward approach is refreshing.
"Fine," I say finally. "But I have conditions."
"Name them." He looks like I just told him he won the lottery.
