“I forgot about that,” he says with a grin, that same easy smile falling back over his lips and lighting up his face.
“Everyone there is queer? Even you?” I shouldn’t have asked that. I don’t know why I did. Something prickles at the back of my brain, but I won’t allow my stupid brain to actually form the thought. I won’t go there.
It doesn’t matter if he’s bi or pan or anything else that may mean he likes men too. It doesn’t. It’s not like we...
Nope.
This is why I wouldn’t let my brain go there.
“I don’t really know what I am,” he says quietly, and I find myself waiting for him to say more. Waiting anxiously, if I’m being honest. Thankfully, I don’t say anything out loud—asking him what that means. Or if he’s considered being with a man before. I’m quiet. Thank. Fuck. And he does go on. “I’ve only ever been with one person, and I married her. I guess I never really thought much about my sexuality.”
Is this real life? Am I really standing here with a gorgeous—actually starting to think kind—human while he contemplates really big aspects of his life? “Well, I didn’t think much about my sexuality either.” I try to pull off a laugh, but it’s self-deprecating and bitter. “The jocks at my school decided I was gay even before I realized I thought guys were hot.”
I see a flash of anger in his eyes I was not expecting and actually start to take a step back, but I’m struck stupid when he reaches a strong hand out to grip my shoulder in a kind, comforting squeeze. “That’s so far from okay. I’m sorry.”
I try to shrug it off, trying my best to ignore the feeling of his hand on my arm. I can feel his warmth through the short sleeve of my T-shirt. I lick my dry lips and look into his eyes. “It’s fine. People can be cruel, but I survived it. And they weren’t wrong, apparently. I’m gay as fuck,” I try to joke—even forcing a small smile. But Gabe doesn’t smile back at me for once.
Instead, his expression is still grim and a little sad as he gives my arm another gentle squeeze, then drops his hand. “Theybullied you?” It’s phrased as a question, but he’s not looking for an answer. He knows. I’m sure he can see it all over my face.
Bullied isn’t even close. They tortured me. But I don’t want him to see me as that skinny, weak kid who they tormented. I stand up as tall as I can, my shoulders square and my back straight. “I know you think I’m a recluse. That I don’t go out,” I say defensively. “But I do. I go out plenty.”
Some.
I go out when I absolutely have to. And I know he’s not buying my bullshit, but I stand firm. For all of thirty seconds before my shoulders slump slightly, and I sigh deeply. “I just don’t trust people.”
“I get that after what you’ve been through. People can be total pricks.”
This time I actually do smile, and he returns it. “I wanted the greenhouse so I could grow my own fruits and vegetables. Maybe go to the grocery store less.”
If he’s judging me for that, I can’t tell. “Well, you can grow a hell of a lot of fruits and vegetables in here,” he says, his long arms sweeping around the room to show off how large the greenhouse is. And well-built.
“I’m kind of afraid I’ll never leave now,” I say, voicing a pretty significant fear I have. I’ve gotten comfortable here over the years, only leaving for necessities. And when I decided to have the greenhouse built, I was excited about never having to leave.
But a part of me is afraid of that very real possibility.
Of never having any human interaction again. I told myself that would be fine with me, but I know it’s not true. I don’t want those assholes to steal my entire life away from me.
“That would be a shame,” he says softly, his voice a sweet caress.
My eyes meet his, and I see how genuine he is. At least, I think so. There’s still a large part of me that thinks this could stillbe a trap. That he’s luring me into false kindness before he does something cruel to me.
But I know it’s not true.
“Maybe I’ll go to the next trivia night with you.”
His eyes light up. “Yeah?”
The urge to pull back and tell him absolutely not is right there on the edge, but I don’t do it. Nerves skitter through me, but I remain stubborn. “Maybe.”
His smile is enough to make me realize how much I mean that.
It may only be a maybe, and it may scare the hell out of me, but for the first time in a really long time, it makes me want to try.
10
GABE
“I’ll see you tonight after school, okay?” I say, hugging Amber tight, not really wanting to let her go.
