He rolls a keg over to the back door. “The student government nerd?”
“Along with his boyfriend, Alex.”
Lucas shakes his head. “Those two always stressed me out.”
“What’s so stressful about two well-adjusted gay boys who have their lives perfectly planned out right down to what flowers will be at their wedding?”
He laughs, leaning against the keg with his feet crossed at the ankle. “So I’m not the only one?”
“Oh, I’ve spent plenty of time thinking about how they make me feel like I must have missed part of orientation day at gay camp.” My voice is bittersweet.
“You know,” he says, uncertainty in his voice. “You always kind of made me feel that way too.”
My brow furrows in shocked confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I mean,” Lucas says. “You’re so sure of yourself. You always have been. You’ve never been sorry for who you are.”
“Well,” I say, “It’s pretty hard to hide it, Lucas. No matter how hard I try—and I’ve tried plenty—it’s everywhere. The way I walk. The way I talk. I didn’t wake up and pray to be a walking gay billboard.” Sometimes falling more on the femme side of the spectrum sends me into a massive thinky, feelsy spiral. I don’t hate those pieces of myself, even if they sometimes scare me. Those attributes are part of me, but it’s just a small sliver of who I am. And yet forso many people, it’s all they see. It’s the whole package. Fat. Femme. Judgments made. Case closed.
“I didn’t mean it like that. I know that...” He closes his eyes for a minute and flexes his fists, like he’s physically gathering the right words. “I know that people assume I’m straight. And I don’t usually correct them, because it’s easier that way.”
I sigh. I think this is the most we’ve spoken ever. Our mouths were busy doing... other things. “I know you know that. I’m just hurt, okay? You hurt me when you told me you were ready to come out. I thought you were ready to come out for me. But that’s silly, because coming out isn’t for anyone but you. I thought it meant that... that you’d want to be together.”
He clutches his hand to his heart and cuts across the stockroom to me. “Oh, Waylon, I’m—” He shakes his head, and I can see him connecting the dots about how exactly I might have come to that conclusion. “I’m so sorry. If it helps, Rashid totally freaked out when I told him. I think he might like me, but maybe he’s just not—”
“I don’t need all the details,” I tell him in the kindest way I can.
“Right. Of course,” he says, riddled with embarrassment. “I meant what I said, though. I do miss you.”
He leans into me then and parts my legs with his thigh. My body begins to react almost immediately, and the semi I managed to hide when Tucker touched my thigh is still fresh enough in my memory that I pitch a tent almost instantly. (Yes, Tucker simply touching my thigh got thatmuch of a reaction out of me. Thank Goddess for tabletops.)
Lucas brushes his lips against mine, softly at first, nudging me, and then with more force. It’s the kind of kiss that makes me want to yank him even closer until our bodies meld into one heap of limbs and sweat, but—“Stop,” I say, my voice too soft at first. “Stop.” This time my voice is more firm. It takes every ounce of self-control I have to pull back from him.
“I’m sorry,” he says instinctively.
“For what?” I ask him. “Dumping me the first time or toying with me just now and making me your second choice?”
He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
“My life is a lot of things right now, and not much of it is good, Lucas, but one thing I know for sure is that I can’t be anyone’s second string. Honestly, I’d rather be alone. At least then I know I’ll have chosen myself.”
“I’m—I’m sorry,” he finally stutters. Tears well in his eyes, and he lets out a grunting sigh.
I stand up and start heading to the back door. “I know you’ve got a lot of shit to sort through right now too, but maybe you should think about just being with yourself and putting yourself first before you can do that for anyone else.” I almost hate myself for even saying it, because it’s the kind of bullshit advice people give that they can never actually act on for themselves, but there’s still truth to it. There’s still something to be gleaned.
I do something that surprises even myself. I reach out toLucas and I pull him to me in a fierce and tight hug.
He grips onto me and hiccups, holding back tears. It’s enough to make my eyes water, and before I know it, I’m blinking back tears too.
I didn’t know how much I needed this. To just be held. To be held without expectations or exceptions. And so we stand there for a moment in the back of a grimy little gas station, two lost boys.
“Come on,” I finally say. “This booze isn’t going to load itself.”
“Friends?” he asks.
I nod. “Messy former-friends-with-benefits friends.”
Nineteen
