I had my gay awakening three years ago, during my freshman year of college. Growing up in the small lakeside town of Claremont Shores, I barely knew anyone who was openly queer. Moving to the city for school was like stepping into a different world—a place bigger, louder, and braver than anything I’d ever known.
Sam, one of my college swim teammates, was openly gay and drop dead gorgeous. I kissed him once at a party, fueled by tequila and a reckless burst of courage. That kiss roused a hunger in me I didn’t know existed. It was like tasting a big, juicy steak for the first time after spending a lifetime surviving on tofu.
I spent the next year making up for lost time—kissing lots of boys, having sex, doing all the things I’d denied myself in high school.
But then shit hit the fan. At the start of my sophomore year, I had to drop out of college and move back to Claremont Shores due to a family emergency.
The “emergency” was that my mom swallowed an entire bottle of painkillers and wound up in the ER. Her depression had spiraled, and it was obvious she wasn’t fit to be a single parent anymore. My little sister, Maddie, was only eleven. Someone had to step up, and with our dad out of the picture, that someone was me.
I’d come out in college—to my teammates, my friends, anyone who asked—but back in Claremont Shores, I was still closeted. Even so, I didn’t hesitate before taking an academic leave of absence and coming home. It was only supposed to be temporary. Just until Mom got better.
But then she didn’t.
Two years later, I’m still here: single, broke, and living in a trailer with my mom and teenage sister. It’s a strange feeling to be an animal shoved back into a cage after having a taste of freedom.
Luke’s voice snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts.
“Hey, dude, do you remember Kelly from high school?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Didn’t you hookup with her before?”
I swallow hard. Vague memories stir of me and Kelly at a party when we were sixteen, one too many beers, making out in someone’s basement. I don’t like dwelling on my past with girls. The sex was probably equally as horrible for them as it was for me. With girls, sex was something for me to endure rather than enjoy. It was about survival—something to grit my teeth through so I could pass.
Because in this town, if you’re not straight, white, and Christian, you’re an outsider.
“Yeah,” I reply flatly.
“She’s having a party this weekend. We should go!” Luke says, winking suggestively.
I shake my head. “I… can’t.”
Luke rolls his eyes. “Dude, you’re so boring now.”
“I’m not,” I grumble defensively.
“Then come to the party with me.”
“I’m busy this weekend,” I lie, knowing it doesn’t sound convincing at all.
Luke frowns as he wipes the bar top with a rag. “College made you soft, bro. You used to be a legend in high school!” he reminisces. He lowers his voice and leans in across the counter. “You used to get so much pussy! Had girls lining up for you!”
My cheeks heat as I sip my beer. “That was a long time ago, Luke.”
He scoffs. “We’re still young, bro. Loosen up. You gotta live a little.”
I certainly don’t feel young. I feel like I’ve aged a decade over the past two years. Raising a teenager is thankless work, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
I quickly gulp down the rest of my beer and ignore Luke’s pestering.
“Have a good night, dude,” I say, tossing a wad of crumpled cash onto the counter.
I head for the door and slip into the still, quiet night.
***
As my truck turns into the trailer park entrance, the tires crunch over the gravel road. Our family’s home is a single-wide trailer with white siding, though it looks more yellow these days from the layers of dirt clinging to it.
