“A boyfriend, then?” I ask, careful to keep my voice entirely casual and without expectation.
“No one special,” he says. “But I’m out, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Sure,” he says, clearly seeing right through the lie.
“So you don’t date women at all anymore?”
“Why would I? I told you, I’m out.”
“Bisexuality exists.”
“Not for me. I’m gay as fuck.”
I can’t help but laugh. “How does your family feel about that?”
“A lot better than I expected, actually,” he says. “Mom can’t talk about me without mentioning her Gay Son Duke. I’m not sure if she thinks that will be somehow shocking to people, or if she just wants them to know how progressive and accepting she is. King didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised, like he already knew. Royal didn’t make a big deal of it either.”
“And Baron?”
“Baron’s my twin,” he says simply. “Nothing could make him love me any less.”
“Did you think it would?”
“I was afraid it would,” he admits. “My dad always said the family would disown me if they found out. I should have known better. Baron doesn’t attach morality to anything. He knew some people would have a problem with it, so he was worried it would make things harder for me. That’s it. It didn’t change anything about the way he saw me.”
“I’m glad,” I say, and this time, I’m not lying. “I’m happy for you.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Me too.”
For a long minute, we just look up at the stars. The only sound is the wind, and far below, a few distant traffic noises.
“The lights might be on again,” I say.
“Maybe,” he says, but he doesn’t sit up to look.
That gives me some encouragement, that he’s not running the way I thought he might. He didn’t seem to want to be up here with me, despite bringing me here. I reach for his hand again, and this time I find it. I curl my fingers around his. I give him time to pull away, and when he doesn’t, I lace my cold fingers between his and squeeze.
For a second, he doesn’t move. Then, he squeezes back.
“I used to go up to the quarry to look at the stars with Lo,” I say, staring resolutely up because I can’t turn my head and look at him right now when our palms are pressed together so intimately. “They’re better in Arkansas.”
“Nothing is better in Arkansas,” he says. “Especially for a gay man.”
“Yeah, that part’s true,” I admit. “You must have all kinds of clubs and stuff here. And you can probably be so open you don’t even have to wonder if someone is interested.”
“It’s pretty great,” he says, apparently not noticing the edge of bitterness that crept into my voice. “So, what did you wish for?”
“I told you, you can’t ask that.”
“Then back at the quarry,” he says. “What did you wish for then? Did it come true or not?”
“I always wished for the same thing. To find what was right for me.”
“Did you?”
“I thought so, at the time.”
