If it went right, I’d have no walls left.
“It’s complicated.” The non-answer tasted bitter.
“It’s not, though.” Sierra picked at the edge of a popcorn kernel. “You’re keeping him separate because you’re scared. The same way you kept every hookup separate. The same way you keep anything that matters at arm’s length.”
That one landed.
“Can we watch the movie?” My voice came out tighter than I wanted. “Please?”
They let it go. Calliope pressed play on some horror film that had them screaming within fifteen minutes. Raven provided running commentary about the “obvious” tarot symbolism in the set design. Sierraphotographed our reactions to the jump scares, her camera flash making everything feel documented and permanent.
I laughed at the right moments. Threw popcorn at the screen during the bad parts. Topped off everyone’s wine. Played my part. The loud one. The fun one.
But underneath, my phone sat heavy in my pocket. Ellis had texted an hour ago.
Ellis:How’s movie night?
I hadn’t answered yet. Not because I didn’t want to. Because answering meant existing in both places at once, and I couldn’t figure out how.
Around eleven, the movie ended. Calliope and Raven left first, arguing about whether the villain was “hot in a problematic way” or “problematic in a hot way.” Sierra walked them to the door, then came back and sat next to me on the couch.
“You’re not okay.” Not a question.
“I’m fine.”
“Jett.”
I stared at the blank TV screen. My reflection stared back, distorted by the curve. “What if I bring him around and you guys don’t like him?”
“We’ll like him.”
“But what if you don’t? What if he’s weird around you, or you’re weird around him, or it changes the group?”
“Then we figure it out.” She pulled her legs up underneath her. “But that’s not what you’re scared of.”
No. It wasn’t.
“I’m scared that if he sees me with you guys, he’ll see the real me. Not the confident version. Not the charming version. The messy, insecure, terrified version who needs his friends to tell him he’s not a disaster.”
Sierra didn’t answer right away. She reached over and squeezed my hand. Her fingers carried the chill of the wineglass, but her grip stayed steady.
“That’s the version worth loving, you idiot.”
My throat closed. I squeezed back.
“Give it time.” Her voice went gentle. “But don’t wait so long he thinks you’re ashamed of him. Because that’s what it looks like from the outside, Jett. It looks like hiding.”
Hiding.
“I’m not hiding him.”
“Then what are you doing?”
I didn’t have an answer. Not one that made sense outside my own head.
I texted Ellis back on the subway home.
Jett:Movie night was good. Sorry for the late reply.
