Benji’s eyes narrow quizzically on me. “Well, yeah, I came out to my mum when I was eighteen but I’d been kissing boys for a while before then.”
“You? You’d been kissing boys at school?” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.
His frown Deepens. “I…There was one guy. He was on the football team with me. We had this…thing.”
I’m suddenly aware that my jaw has been hanging open for too long. I close it and swallow down the hundred questions I want to ask. Benji Smith was kissing a boy on the football team.What the fuck!?
“Don’t look so shocked. Footballers can be queer too.” He laughs at me and I hate how much I like his smile. It’s always been a bit big for his slim face.
“I know.” I say defensively. “I’m just…surprised.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be. It’s not like you know anything about me.”
“Right,” I agree solemnly.
“And what about you?” He nods at my T-shirt.
“Well, yeah, I’m queer.” I look down. “I’m bisexual too. And trans.”
He seems shocked but to give him credit, it’s schooled off his face in less than two seconds.
“That must have been…a lot,” he says, then shakes his head. “I mean, it mustbea lot. Still. Oh, fuck. I’m saying the wrong thing, aren’t I?”
“Actually, no. You’re doing better than most,” I tell him with a laugh.
“Are people really dicks to you?” He looks genuinely concerned.
“Not all the time, no.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and my head on my balled-up hands. “And honestly, you’re not saying the wrong thing. It has been hard. But it’s also getting easier, I think.”
“That’s good. That’s important,” he says earnestly. “You know, you didn’t answer my question, earlier.”
“What question?” I ask, knowing exactly which question.
He starts picking at a scuffed patch on the leather of the sofa. “You know, about being single.”
“Oh, that,” I say slowly. “Yeah, I’m single.”
His blue eyes light up, like a disco ball, and his too-big smile gets the better of his face again. He’s not even trying to hide his pleasure at my answer, and I’m not used to it. Especially not from someone who I thought was straight, and someone who, frankly, was a bit of an idiot at school. Memories come flooding back. The kissing booth at Christmas. The stupid prank he pulled asking me to the Leavers’ Ball. And then what happened at the ball itself.
It strikes me now that I have a choice. I could tell him who I am and I know, without a doubt, he’ll instantly be putoff. I could explain, but I know then that this moment — whatever this is — will pass, will be extinguished like a candle getting snuffed out. There’s no way he will want to even think about pursuing something with me when he knows who I really am.
Or I could keep it a secret and I could explore where this could go. Not that I think it will go beyond a quick, awkward kiss. Or one night of kissing and then a lifetime of nodding uncomfortably at each other as we pass in the street or coming out of the only decent independent coffee shop because this town is just too damn small. I honestly don’t know which option is more appealing.
“You know,” Benji shifts forward and copies my position, “I have to say, there’s something about you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.Shit. If he figures it out for himself then it doesn’t really matter what I want, does it? Heat followed swiftly by a chill travels down my spine.
“You…” He stops himself, looks down and rolls his lips into his mouth. “Look, I don’t do this. Like, ever, but I like you. I mean, I’m attracted to you. And well, if we could maybe, I don’t know, go for coffee after this is all over, I’d really like that.”
Well, fuck. He’s being Mr Nice Guy. I fucking hate that.
But that doesn’t mean I need to play by the same rules.
I stand up, and honestly, it shocks me as much as it shocks him. But I’ve done it now. No going back. Because we’ll never go for coffee. When he knows who I am and he remembers what we were to each other fifteen years ago, he’ll never want to see me again. And while that pains me, I think I know a way to soften the blow.
“Why wait for coffee?” I ask and I holdout my hand to him.
Benji stares at my hand for a long time and I wish I knew just a few of the thoughts rushing through his mind.
