“Forgive me for prying,” Foxbegan. “And tell me if this is out of bounds, but is there some reason no oneseems to know you’re gay?”
I looked up at him, chewingand swallowing the last bite of my peanut butter cup and licking my fingersnervously.
He was owed the truth. I’d started itlast night.
And it would have been niceto tell him. There didn’t seem to be a judgmental bone in Fox’s body. Plus,he was one of a tiny number of people who knew my secret.
The only one who’dlisten. Who’d care.
“My uncle happened to walkin on me with a boy about a week before we were supposed to leave for LA, afterhe got me this five-album contract with Harmony,” I said. “He didn’t take itwell.”
Fox’s face darkened.
“We umm. Talked about it,” Icontinued. We hadn’t so muchtalkedas Uncle Vincent had yelled, but I’d come to thinkof that as roughly equivalent to talking when it came to him.
“We decided it’d be betterif no one knew. If, umm. If I didn’t date any other men. Widest possibleappeal, y’know?”
Half a dozen emotionsflitted over Fox’s face before he settled on his near-permanent patientexpression again. He was always patient withme.
Even when I didn’t deserve it.Even when I was having a meltdown in a public bathroom.
“Funny how it’s always yougiving something up, isn’t it? Never Uncle Vincent.”
I looked down, toying withthe hem of my t-shirt. It was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the worldto me, much easier to handle than what Fox was getting at.
“No junk food foryou, but he clearlydoesn’tdeny himself anything.Youaren’t allowed to be gay, but Ibet Vincent can be seen with whoever he wants.”
“He’s straight,” I pointedout.
“Right, but that doesn’tmean he has to do it in public,” Fox said. “Could have the decency to keep hisprivate life private. And with a little help, you could have done the same. Butit’s not just that you’re not allowed to be gay publicly, is it? It’s that you’renot allowed to see anyone.”
I turned my attention frommy hem to my shoelaces. Well, boot laces. I only owned one pair of shoes thatcould reasonably be calledboots, but Fox insisted I wore them on thebike. These ones had a little heel to them, so they made me a half-inch taller.
Five-four, if I didn’t slouch andfluffed my hair up.
Fox’s shadow covered the bootsas he stepped closer. Warmth rolled off him, and it was impossible not to lookup.
He was trying to help. Hewashelping. Saying things I’d needed to hear for a long, long time. Likeanything that’d been buried deep and scarred over, poking at ithurt.
But Fox was right there. Icould hurt with him. He wassafeto hurt around, and I knew now that Icould trust him. That he’d take care of me even at the risk of losing hisown job.
I didn’t knowwhy, but I wanted tocling to it with both hands.
I met his eyes after anothermoment, sighing. “I’m not allowed to date,” I confirmed.
I wanted to reach out andtouch him. Lay my hand on the middle of his chest, feel the softness of hischarcoal-gray Henley under my fingers, play with the buttons a little.
I knew, deep down, why hewas making me say it.
Because it waswrong.
It hadn’t been a bigdeal before now. There hadn’t been anyone in my life who I’dwantedto date, and Foxwasn’teven remotely suitable for a whole bunch of reasons, but I couldn’t help whatmy heart did.
And what it did was beat alittle faster when Fox looked at me, and backflipped when he smiled. It’d picked him.For half a dozen good reasons and a thousand stupid ones, I looked at Fox and Ijustwantedhim.
“Do you think that could bebecause your uncle knows that the minute you find someone who cares about you,they’ll see what he’s doing? Maybe?”
When Fox put it like that…
