“Is that what he said?” he asks, and I whirl to face him and see his expression is almost painful.
“Seriously? I don’t remember what he said exactly. Are you going to let me go?” I go to push past him, to reach for the key, but he stops me, grabbing my forearms and holding me so we’re toe to toe, chests touching.
“You have the prettiest eyes of anyone I’ve ever seen.” His voice is a whisper dragged across gravel. This is not the Gabriel I know and it’s making me uncomfortable. I pull back, trying to wrench myself out of his hands, but he holds me tighter.
“Why are you being such a jerk?” I spit out and his face crumples.
“I have something to tell you. I should’ve told you before.” I don’t want to hear what he has to say. I want to push against his chest, beat my fists against him until he lets me go, but something in his voice stops me. A tone of desperation perhaps. I stop trying to escape and look at him.
“Very well, tell me, and then let me go.”
He drops his hands so he’s no longer holding me but I don’t move away.
“I’m bisexual.”
I stare at him, unable to process what he’s telling me. He takes a deep breath.
“I’m bisexual and I meant what I said about your eyes.”
I ignore the second half of that sentence because the implications of the first part are just sinking in. My arms are still raised from when he was holding me and I do thump him on the chest.
“How? What? Why? When?” I know these aren’t rational questions, but it’s all I can articulate right now.
“When I was about twenty, when I was at uni.”
I snap my head back to look at him fully.
“You’ve known you were bi since you were twenty and you’ve only just told me now?”
“I haven’t seen you since then, until a few weeks ago. I wanted to tell you, I really did, but then you told me about what had happened and that you had a strict rule about getting involved with people you worked for. I didn’t want to complicate things. I wanted us to be friends.”
“You still could’ve told me,” I say quietly. It’s a weak accusation and I get his reasoning, but I say it anyway.
“I didn’t even know you were gay, or bi, until you told me your story. How long have you known?” he asks, and I step back, needing to put some distance between us.
“Fourteen.” I can feel what’s coming but I’m not going to lie.
“Fourteen!” This time Gabriel starts pacing across the room. “Fourteen? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was scared of what you might think.”
He has a right to be angry, but when he turns towards me it’s only hurt I see in his face.
“Charley, I’m your best friend. I would have been there for you, been an ally for you. Hell, it might even have helped me figure myself out sooner.” He gives a little huff that’s in no way funny.
“I nearly told you once when we were seventeen.” I sigh and sit down in one of the armchairs, suddenly unable to keep standing. Gabriel crouches in front of me, taking my hands.
“Why didn’t you?” he whispers.
“Can you remember that night, before you went back to Woodcoutts for your final year? We were listening to music in your bedroom.”
“Yeah, I remember.” He nods.
“I was going to tell you then.”
“But why didn’t you?”
“Because that’s the night you told me all about Celeste and how you were going to marry her. You seemed so full of excitement for the future.”
