It only takes a few steps for Ian to realize I’m no longer next to him, and he turns around.
“What’s up?” he asks, walking back to me.
My pulse is still elevated, pounding in my chest and through my ears, down to my fingertips. It’s the same as what I felt when I got on the first bus to Chicago two months ago, when I bolted from home. It’s what I felt when I stepped off the fourth bus here in Graniton after thirty hours.
Not trepidation, as I’d initially thought. Just nerves, mixed with excitement.
A bit of hope, too.
“Do you mind if we stay here for a bit?” I ask. “I have to tell you something.”
“Of course.” Ian looks up at me, his light, messy hair poking out of his beanie. “I’m all ears.”
The wind isn’t as biting as it was earlier in the year, but it still braces against us and makes his face pinken. He’s so endearing and sweet, and I can’t help but feel safe when I’m near him.
No matter what happens, I’ll be fine.
Here goes nothing. I suck in a breath.
“I’m gay.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IAN
I’m not an asshole, and I don’t want to be one, so I have to stay calm.
But holyshit, Callum isgay.
Just like that, the last major reason for me to suppress my stubborn feelings for him dissolves. The flimsy little dam splinters, allowing a steady stream of affection to pour through. Knowing me, that stream is gonna turn into a flood at any second.
The street is almost silent, the air punctuated by wind in the trees and Callum's heavy, nervous breathing. He’s gripping his left arm with his right hand, his knuckles pale, and he’s pressed his lips together, not saying a word.
Jesus. I can't even imagine what it must have been like for him to grow up gay in the family he had. There’s no way his parents would be chill with him being gay, whilealsobeing weird about sex.
I can't even imagine how hard it must have been for him to say those two words to me. Has he even told anyone else? I might be the first.
I need to handle this right, and I can't get excited about him possibly, potentially,hopefullyhaving the ability to also like me.
“That’s cool, man,” I say. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”
Could I have come up with an even more generic coming-out response? Probably not. Generic is fine for now—anything more personal or creative might end up with me losing every last scrap of my self-control and asking Callum to please,pleasefeel me up again, because the first time was unforgettable.
Again, I’m trying not to be an asshole.
“Are you feeling okay?” I ask, and Callum gives me a stiff nod. “Was that the first time you told someone?”
“Nah. I told my therapist and Laura.”
Offering a smile, I let out a silent breath in relief—he’s getting professional help. That doesn’t happen often enough.
“That’s great,” I say. “I’m glad you’re comfortable enough to open up to me.”
Platitudes, genuine as they might be, are all I have. And now I’m out of those, too. We’ve fallen back into silence, the street’s deserted, and we’re simply…standing here.
Oh, god, I want to kiss him. He’s got such pretty, tempting lips.
Fuck, I can’t. That’d be such a dick move. Hejustcame out to me.
