But what if I didn’t know who I was? What if twenty-five years of thinking I had myself figured out were just a lie I’d been telling myself?
I thought about Brittany. About all the girlfriends before her. Had I actually been attracted to them, or had I just been going through the motions? Playing the part I thought I was supposed to play?
The answer made my stomach churn. Because now that I’d felt what it was like to touch James, to have his hands on me, to hear him moan my name… everything else felt like a pale imitation. Like I’d been living in black and white and suddenly discovered color existed.
And that terrified me.
I stopped walking, finding myself in front of a closed convenience store, its fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows through the rain. My reflection stared back at me from the window. My hair was plastered down, shirt clinging to my chest, and I looked exactly as lost as I felt.
“What the fuck am I doing?” I muttered to myself.
I’d left James alone in his apartment, probably thinking I regretted what we’d done. Probably thinking I was disgusted with myself, with him. And maybe part of me was. But it wasn’t the part that mattered.
The part that mattered was the one that wanted to turn around and go back. The one that wanted to crawl into his bed and kiss him until neither of us could breathe. The one that didn’t give a shit what my father thought, or my coworkers, or anyone else.
But could I be that person? Could I let go of everything I thought I was and embrace this terrifying new reality?
Thunder rumbled overhead, and the rain intensified, coming down in sheets now. I was completely soaked, shivering in my thin t-shirt. I should go home. I should go back to James and figure this out like an adult instead of running away like a scared kid.
But my feet wouldn’t move.
Whatever this was… ithadto stay a secret. For now at least. Nobody could know.
I pulled out my phone, water droplets sliding down the screen as I stared at it. No messages from James. Not that I expected any. I’d been the one to storm out without explanation, leaving him with nothing but confusion and probably a healthy dose of hurt.
My thumb hovered over his contact. I should text him. Tell him I was okay, that I just needed space. But what would I even say? Sorry for freaking out after we got each other off, just having a minor identity crisis in the rain? It sounded so melodramatic.
I shoved the phone back in my pocket.
The street was deserted, just me and the relentless downpour. A car drove past, its headlights cutting through the darkness, and I caught a glimpse of the driver’s face, warm and dry inside their vehicle, probably heading home to their uncomplicated life. I envied them.
My mind kept circling back to the same moment. James’s hand wrapped around both of our cocks, the heat of his skin, and the way he’d looked at me. Not Kent the disappointment. Not Kent the closeted mess. Just... Kent.
And I’d run.
“Fucking coward,” I muttered, kicking at a puddle. Water splashed up onto my already-soaked sweatpants.
But wasn’t that what I’d always been? A coward hiding behind heterosexuality and toxic masculinity because it was easier than facing the truth? I’d spent years tormenting James for being brave enough to be himself, and here I was, twenty-five years old and still too chickenshit to admit what I wanted.
What I wanted was him.
The realization should have felt like a revelation, but it didn’t. Because deep down, I’d known it for days. Maybe longer. I’d just been too scared to acknowledge it.
Another crack of thunder made me flinch. The rain was coming down so hard now I could barely see three feet in front of me. I needed to get out of it, find shelter somewhere. But the thought of going back to the apartment, of facing James after the way I’d left, made my chest tight with anxiety.
What if he didn’t want me anymore? What if I’d ruined everything by running? What if he’d decided this was too complicated, too messy, and he wanted nothing to do with me?
I wouldn’t blame him if he did.
I kept walking, my shoes squelching with every step. The cold was starting to seep into my bones, making my teeth chatter. I wrapped my arms around myself, but it did nothing to ward off the chill.
This was stupid. I was being stupid. Standing in the rain like some tragic character in a bad movie wasn’t going to solve anything. It wasn’t going to make me any less gay, or bi, or whatever the hell I was. It wasn’t going to change what had happened between James and me.
And it definitely wasn’t going to make me stop wanting him.
I thought about my father’s face at dinner, the disgust barely concealed when James had mentioned Trevor. That would be me if anyone found out. That look of disappointment and shame would be directed at me. My boss Derek would hear about it eventually. The industry I worked in wasn’t exactly knownfor being progressive. My friends would make jokes, or worse, they’d get quiet and uncomfortable around me.
My whole life would change.
