That’s not how it turned out. When I got back, I rented a room in a shared apartment five minutes from campus. One of my new roommates, Benji, was gay, and he took one look at me and clocked me immediately. He was discreet about it, and instead of minding that he knew, I found I loved having someone to talk to about my sexuality. Benji was one of those guys who was out and proud and supremely vocal about it. He had bleach-blond hair he wore in an elaborately styled coiffe and wasn’t one to shy away from glittery eyeliner. He was a breath of fresh air, and we quickly became friends. He introduced me to people and places, and soon, I wasn’t on the periphery of the queer scene looking in anymore. I was out—in Ohio, at least.
“Now say it with me, Benj… People in Alabaster don’t know Jude is gay,” I coached as we waited for the plane to take off at the start of Spring Break. Benji’s parents were assholes with a limited amount of appreciation for his fabulousness, so I’d invited him to come home with me for thevacation.
He nodded earnestly and said, “People in Alabaster have their heads up their asses ’cause they can’t tell Jude’s queer as Christmas.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed loudly. “Close but not quite. Try again.”
He nudged my shoulder and gave me a sincere smile. “It’s okay. I’ve got you, Judels.”
“For God’s sake, don’t call me Judels!” I screeched, laughing and punching his shoulder playfully. “You may as well tattoo a Pride flag on my forehead!”
I needn’t have worried. Benji was good people, and he had my back. He was a lot, but he didn’t let anything slip. My mom and dad loved him, and before the break was over, Ollie and Dan were making plans for him to return to Alabaster over the summer, with or without me. Despite all that, I regretted bringing him home with me. The whole vacation ended up being a complete shit show.
Romeo was weird pretty much from the second I arrived. He was at the airport with my parents when I landed, smiling broadly and holding up a foil balloon with a cartoon tiger on it, but he tensed when I hugged him. I thought I’d imagined it, so I hung on for dear life, blinking back tears of relief as I inhaled him. He smelled like rain after a drought. Like old oak trees and mystical places. Like the love of my life. Six months of not seeing him was toolong. Not talking to him every day was awful. I hated it and couldn’t wait to get back to the way things were the previous summer.
Getting to know Benji and other queer people had given me better insight into shame, fear, and internalized homophobia. I couldn’t say his reaction last summer didn’t still hurt, but I understood it better. I was trying to, at least.
His body stiffened as I held him, and not in a good way. His abs clenched and he stepped back as soon as I loosened my grip on him. His face was different. Eyes focused in a new and strange way, hoods lidded, brows drawn down low.
“I don’t think Romeo likes me,” said Benji after a few days in Alabaster.
I denied it vehemently, but honestly, I suspected he was right. Romeo had never been a fan of loud people, and Benji was about as loud as you could get without carrying a loudspeaker around and using it every time you opened your mouth. I could tell he got on Romeo’s nerves, and as a result, I spent most of the vacation cracking jokes and trying to keep the conversation light.
Every night, I left my window wide open and stayed awake until the early hours, waiting for the soft thud on the garage roof that signaled Romeo was close. It never came.
By the last night, I was in such a bad way that I snuck out and climbed up his drainpipe and onto the balcony outside his bedroom window. I tapped at the glass for ages before he woke up, too scared to tap loudly in case I woke Mike.
“What are you doing here?” he mumbled through a haze of deep sleep. One cheek was creased and his hair was all over the place. He was so beautiful a tiny moan slipped out of me as I leaned in to kiss him.
It wasn’t like any of the other kisses we’d shared. He didn’t close his eyes and smile. He didn’t even quirk one side of his mouth. He didn’t lean in to meet me either. He jerked his head back and put a hand on my chest to push me away. I felt the outline of his handprint on my chest for hours. Days. Months.
“I love you, Jude,” he said.
I was confused, but my heart thundered with joy. “I love you too. I love you so—”
“You’re the most important person in my life, you know that. Your friendship means more to me than anything. I don’t want to fuck it up, so I think maybe we should stop the other stuff before something happens that we can’t come back from.”
His words hit me in waves. Hard, tidal waves that rolled me, dunked me, and spat me out. I was reeling. The quickstab of rejection was so deep and brutal that it left me winded and unable to say another word, let alone ask any of the avalanche of questions that came to mind. The threads of scar tissue that covered my heart tore open, contracting and ripping more with every second I stayed on the balcony with him.
I limped home through the park, walking a familiar path that was suddenly foreign to me. The shadows of the swings and trees were long and menacing, stretching out, reaching for me, and winding around my ankles like gnarled webs and tendrils. They snaked up my limbs, slowing me until every step was painful. Overhead, oak leaves rustled, laughing at me, and Inferno, who I’d always thought of as a friend, hissed and breathed fire in my direction. In my chest, my heart throbbed, weeping and using the last of its strength to beat the only name it has ever known.
Romeo
Romeo
Romeo
I didn’t tell Benji about Romeo because, you know, oaths and promises,and you’ll never tell anyoneand all that. Even though it was unsaid, he knew what was up. He took one look at my face the next day, put his arm around me, and said, “Don’t sweat it, Judels, we’ve all been there.We’re all a little in love with our childhood best friends, but straight guys are all the same—they don’t stop being straight no matter how much we blow them.”
Once I was back at college, Romeo acted like nothing had happened. He called me just as much as ever. More, maybe. Maybe it was my imagination, but to me, his calls and messages were tinged with desperation. He’d hurt me more than I could have imagined anyone could hurt me, and he seemed to be doing his best to act like it had never happened. It gave me whiplash. The rejection was fresh in my mind, a deep open wound that showed no signs of healing. I’d lie awake at night, tossing and turning, planning long conversations with Romeo, asking him the reams of questions that swirled around in my mind, pushing out reason, demanding answers. Demanding, above all things, that he tell me what I’d done wrong.
I’d wake in the morning, clammy and overwrought, and in the bright light of day, I’d shake my head at my own idiocy. By the time I showered, dressed, and opened my curtains, it was obvious. It was clear what was wrong. It was simple.
I was a man, and he wanted a woman.
I wrapped my pride around me, tighter and tighter every day, and resolved to never, ever show Romeo how much he’d hurt me. I answered when he called and messagedhim back without leaving him on read any more than I could help it. I sent him photographs of open windows and listened for hours when Mike met Mary and Romeo struggled to find it in himself to like her. I threw myself into my studies during the day, and at night, I went out and got absolutely blasted. Most nights, Benji would come out with me and walk me home as I stumbled alongside him. He’d pull off my shoes and undo my belt before I fell into bed, and every once in a while, he’d say, “You know, babe, I could make you feel better.”
I’d laugh him off and pretend I didn’t know what he meant. The last time it happened, he reached for my junk as he said it. I slapped his hand away and sat up, wading through the sickly fog of booze just enough for his face to come into focus. Benji was good-looking. Electric blue eyes and platinum-blond hair. Pretty and handsome at the same time.
