Page 73 of I Wish You All the Best

“There was the pamphlet in your dresser. I promise I wasn’t snooping, just putting away some clothes and … well …”

“Oh. Not really.” Please tell me she wasn’t going through my things. That she was just putting away socks or shirts that she’d washed, and just opened the drawer by mistake.

“Can I ask a question?” She throws down the other pair of jeans she was eyeing.

“I thought that’s what you were doing?” I try to laugh, but I can feel my face heating up.

“Oh, ha-ha.” She cackles sarcastically. “But seriously, like, why don’t you want to go? Don’t you think it’d help?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you looked up their website or anything?”

“No.” I look around, we’re pretty much alone in this section of the store. “I just don’t want to come out to a bunch of strangers.” That’s part of it, but it’s also a local group, and I don’t think I could handle walking in there and seeing someone from school.

“What about trying it just once? The pamphlet said you don’t have to be out or anything. You don’t have to talk about why you’re there.”

“I just really don’t want to go.” Even if I don’t do the whole coming-out thing again, I’ll have a room full of people staring at me, wondering why I’m there. And do I really have the right to sit in on their private meetings if I’m not going to share anything?

“I just think it might help.”

“Well, I don’t think it will. Can we please drop it?”

“Okay,” she says defensively, and my heart sinks. She sounds so much like Dad right now. “Do you think you’ll ever come out to anyone else?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re only out to who? Me, Thomas, Dr. Taylor. Mom and Dad. Do you think you’ll ever come out to anyone else?”

“Why does that matter?” I don’t want to get angry, but I also don’t appreciate how she’s asking all this. Why is this so important to her?

“It was just a question,” she argues.

“Well, that’s up to me to decide, okay?”

“Ben.” She groans. “Listen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it … That wasn’t cool of me.”

I sigh. Great. “It’s fine.” I hang my head down and pretend to look at some sweaters.

“No, it’s not.” She grabs the clothes in my arms. “You want to get out of here?”

Like no tomorrow. “Only if you’re ready.”

“Yeah, sure. Mind if we still stop by the grocery store?”

“That’s fine.” I follow Hannah to the checkout line.

“So, when do I get to meet this Nathan kid?”

“What?” Dear God, let these conversations end, please.

“He picked you up last night, right?”

“We’re just friends.”

“Well, I didn’t suggest otherwise.” Hannah gives me a sly smile. Dammit. “But if you say so.”

“I do say so,” I protest, even though part of me wants to ask her what I can do about Nathan. Either how to get rid of whatever these feelings are, or how I can actually get him to maybe, possibly, like me? Because the thought of this is terrifying.