‘No, but we have history. It’s hard to let go.’ He sits back against the tree and our elbows touch again, but I can’t relax. His body feels too warm now, too dangerous. What was I thinking? That this straight guy who just broke up with his girlfriend was bringing me here for a romantic picnic.
‘I know about you, by the way,’ he says.
His words are soft, but I freeze. I stare straight ahead. My powers. How the fuck does he know about my powers?
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I don’t know if it’s something you talk about but…’ He takes a sip of his beer. ‘I know you’re gay, or bi, or whatever.’
I let out the breath I’ve been holding. It’s just that I’m gay.
Is that better or…? I’m sweating again.
He takes another drink. ‘I want you to know that I know and it’s cool and…’ He drains his can. ‘Because I want you to be able to be yourself around me.’ He glances at me. ‘Is that OK to say?’
I’ve definitely stopped breathing. I can’t actually believe this is happening. Should I lie? Laugh it off. Make a joke. But why?Iwant you to be able to be yourself around me. That’s all I want for myself. ‘Yeah, it’s definitely OK.’
‘Cool.’
‘I haven’t told my family yet though.’
He nods. ‘I guessed. I won’t say anything.’ He smiles, not a cheeky, flirty smile; a nice one. ‘Don’t you think they know?’
I shrug. ‘Probably…definitely. I was worried about Cormac at first as he wouldn’t shut up about girls, but now he’s making all these hints.’
‘Then he knows.’
My neck burns. ‘Oh, really?
‘Yeah, he’s not subtle, is he? You should tell him before he decorates his room with pride flags.’
I snort. He so would.
‘So you don’t think he’ll have a problem with me?’
‘Nah, the opposite. There’s a gay fella in our year. He got a bit of hassle from a few dickheads, but Cormac stood up to them.’
I blink. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. Cormac did his drama practical with him. Niall, nice fella. Smart, like you.’
My cheeks burn and Paul grins. ‘Just be warned that when you do come out to Cormac, he will one hundred per cent try to set you two up.’
I laugh. ‘Good to know.’ I stretch my arms. ‘Well, thanks. It’s never easy to talk to straight guys about being…gay. You know?’
Paul looks away and I have the horrible sensation that I’ve said something wrong. He stares at his feet. A breath of wind rustles the leaves and goosebumps ripple up my arm.
‘Paul? You OK?’
When he speaks it’s almost a whisper. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what I am.’
I’m too afraid to speak. It’s like he’s handed me something fragile and I don’t want to break it.
‘Oh?’
He bites his lip. The confidence, the cockiness, is gone.
I see him.
We don’t blink. His eyes have flecks of sunset caught in them. Is he holding his breath as well?
