Marcus eyes me with suspicion, and I can’t even begin to imagine what he sees before he shrugs. “Okay.”
He walks away to grab more supplies from his truck, and I sigh, watching him go.
This would be so much easier if I came clean to him about where I’m at right now. Who knows? Maybe he could knock some sense into me, tell me if he thinks I’m just imagining things, or if there’s any chance in hell that Luke would be interested in me. He’s always been good at telling me shit like that when I get in my own head, and I could desperately use his advice about how to proceed.
I don’t understand why I haven’t been able to tell him yet. I’ve had plenty of opportunities, but it’s like I’ve purposefully avoided them at all costs. We have another one right now. We’re far enough away that no one else could hear us. Besides, they’reonly two little words. ‘I’m bisexual.’ How hard could it be to blurt them out and get this over with so I can stop lying to my best friend? It shouldn’t be any different because I’m interested in a man. I hope.
As he walks by with an armful of supplies, I call out with a sudden burst of courage. “Hey, Marcus?” But as soon as the words leave my mouth, I instantly regret it. My heart’s in my throat, and my face starts burning, my mouth going dry.
“Yeah?” Marcus replies, distracted as he sets everything down on the picnic table.
My whole body shifts into panic mode, every nerve ending on fire. My hands start shaking, and I worry I might throw up as a wave of nausea rolls over me. There’s a two-ton weight on my chest, and I can’t breathe. Oh, god, this was a mistake. Ican’tdo this. Why did I ever think I could? Even if I wanted to speak, no words would come out.
I wasn’t expecting this kind of reaction, but it grips me to the point of paralysis.
When I don’t immediately respond, Marcus glances over at me, and I snap my head away, hoping he won’t see the panic written all over my face. It’ll only make it worse if he acknowledges it. But he’s expecting an answer from me, and there’s no way in hell I’m telling him the truth. Not right now, at least. Not when I feel like I might die if I do.
“Do you have any water?” I settle on instead, swallowing hard, trying to clear the sudden lump in my throat. At least the request makes sense with how strained my voice just sounded.
“Um, yeah. Sure.” Marcus frowns.
I can feel his eyes on me as he walks over to a cooler, and when he comes back, he hands me a bottle of water with an arched brow. I can’t even look him in the eye as I take it and mutter a weak thanks. He doesn’t say anything about it as he walks backto the picnic table, but I close my eyes and sigh heavily, cursing my cowardice.
I drag a hand over my face before chugging half the water down.Stupid. Why am I such a god damn fucking idiot?
I didn’t have this much difficulty coming out to mymom—arguably the one person I should have been more worried about—but with Marcus, I’m a fucking clam. Where’s the sense in that?
He’s my best friend. I should be able to talk to him without freaking out like this. Our bond has withstood so much of my bullshit and fucked up mental health problems over the years that adding this on top should be easy. I highly doubt he’ll think differently about me once he knows the truth. Or that our friendship will somehow change because of it. He’s not the kind of person to let something like this come between us, but even knowing all that logically, I’m still petrified. It’s as if I’m legitimately scared that this will be the final burden that breaks us.
What kind of friend does that make me?
Chapter Sixteen
In the Afterglow
I’mdrunk.Verydrunk.Not to the point of blacking out or losing control of my motor functions, but so relaxed and at ease that I could easily make bad decisions without my brain stopping me.
If someone told me it was a good idea to buy one of those giant inflatable unicorn floaties to take out onto the lake, you bet your ass I’d buy it, no questions asked. Because, um,fuck yeah.That would be cool as shit. Maybe I should look into it, actually.
I’m tired but unwilling to go to bed even though it’s getting late—or at least late for me. What is it, ten o’clock? Jesus. When did I get so old? The alcohol isn’t helping me stay awake, either, but everyone’s sitting around the campfire, chatting and laughing, and the mood feels so happy that I don’t want to miss it.
Instead, I melt into the chair, nursing another beer as I watch and listen to what’s going on around me like a fly on the wall rather than an active participant. But that’s fine, too. It’s nice having everyone together like this. It feels like we haven’t been since last year, and when I think about it, I realize it’s probably true. God, getting older isweird.
When we were younger, hanging out was as easy as breathing. We slept over at each other’s houses, sometimes staying up until sunrise the next morning. We’d go out to the movies on weekends or to the bar every other night once we turned twenty-one, having parties and living up the days of our youth like they would never end.
Then, priorities started changing. Hangouts spaced out to every other week, then once a month, before finally, maybe only a few times a year. No one could be blamed for the shift. It was just how things went as soon as the guys got married and started having kids. Their families became their focus, and everything else naturally fell by the wayside.
I don’t like to think that I was left behind, but my life didn’t lead me down the same paths they took, and a small part of me worries that if I didn’t see them every day at work, I might have naturally fallen into obscurity as well, almost like I never existed. It’s why I’ve held myself back, sticking it out at the shop as long as I have—so that we have an excuse to talk to each other and not test the limits of our friendship.
Sitting here now, I observe each of my friends.
Marcus and Tiff are sitting side by side, holding hands across the arms of their chairs, and I watch as he brings her fingers to his lips every so often to kiss them. Every time, Tiff smiles and repeats the gesture. It’s almost like they’re incapable of letting each other go, the need for physical contact paramount to their survival. If they break off to get up for any reason, they return right to it when they sit down again, as if they never moved. It’s sickeningly beautiful.
Ben and Laura aren’t overtly affectionate in public, but it suits them just fine. They’re sitting in a double camp chair, almost like a little couch, but there’s no PDA, despite their closeness. Instead, they’ll occasionally look at each other and smile as if they’re communicating through some secret language that onlythe two of them know. Ben will get up to get a beer and know to get one for Laura, handing it off to her without a word spoken between them. At one point, she’d switched to water, and I don’t think Ben had to ask her. He just knew that’s what she wanted. To be so in sync with each other like that boggles my mind.
Across the way, Liz is curled up in Eric’s lap on one chair, looking half-ready to fall asleep, nestled against his chest with his arms around her. She’s the only one who hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol all night, but we quickly found out why when she and Eric decided to spill the good news shortly after everyone sat down for dinner. They’re expecting anotherbaby. After months of fertility treatments, they can proudly say they’ve reached eighteen weeks already. They were keeping it quiet until it seemed like this one would stick. Apparently, they’ve had a few miscarriages already. I didn’t even know they were trying for another. But I can’t help but notice how Eric holds her so possessively in his lap. It’s actually fucking adorable, and I’m only a little bit jealous.
Jesus, I never realized alcohol made me sosappy.
