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“It’s nice to meet you, Chase. Maybe you can convince Adan to join our firm.”
“He’s just a friend,” I snapped out, feeling panicked at the prospect of the man who had control over my career options associating me with someone who carried himself like Chase. “He doesn’t have anything to do with my decisions.” I felt Chase stiffen beside me, but he stayed silent.
Mark walked away a couple of seconds later with a promise to call me the following week to check in. I waited a beat, excused myself to go use the bathroom, and then sat on the bench across from Chase when I returned.
I should have realized something was wrong when Chase didn’t say more than two words the rest of the meal. Or when he barely ate his meal. Or when he stared down at his plate and didn’t look at me. But I was too busy replaying the conversation with Mark in my mind and jerking my head around the room to see if I saw anyone else who’d recognize me. So it wasn’t until we were walking away from the restaurant that I realized Chase was upset.
“What was that in there?” Chase had been silent for so long, the sound of his voice took me off guard.
“What do you mean?”
We walked a little farther and then he said, “With that guy. Mark or whatever. What was the deal?”
I shrugged. “He wants me to come work for his firm after graduation, and I haven’t decided if I should cash in and do that right away or clerk for a year first.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He came to a halt and sighed, “Adan, are you out?”
I got closer to him so we could talk quietly, then took note of our proximity, darted my gaze around, and stepped back. “Of course I’m out.”
“Okay, don’t be mad, it’s just….” He bit his bottom lip. “It didn’t seem that way in there.” He took in a deep breath. “You told him we were friends.”
I had an inkling of where the conversation was going, but not the sense to take it in a different direction. “We are friends.”
Chase rolled his eyes. “Come on. You know what I mean. You didn’t want him to know that I’m your boyfriend. If you’re in the closet at work, you can tell—”
“I don’t hide who I am!” I shouted, feeling offended at the accusation and frustrated by the conversation. Especially because it was Chase’s fault. Those clothes didn’t just appear in his closet. “But having the balls to be honest about that doesn’t mean I have to shove it in everyone’s faces all the time, and it really, really doesn’t mean I have to play to every ridiculous gay stereotype!”
His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. “Uh, I think I missed something here. Rewind.” He made a rolling gesture with his hand. “Why are you pissed?”
“See!” I shouted accusingly and pointed at his hand. “Why do you move your hands that way? And look at how you’re standing!” He looked down at his hand, then at his body—his hip was hitched to the side and his leg stretched out—and furrowed his brow in confusion. “And don’t even get me started on those clothes. I am going to be a professional attorney, Chase, do you honestly think anybody is going to pay four hundred dollars an hour for my time and trust my judgment if they think I’m like you?”
“Think you’re like me?” he repeated slowly.
“You know what I mean!”
For the first time since I’d met him, Chase looked truly sad. It was different from the few times he had been upset about his family or something at work. His posture slumped, his face fell, and his eyes glistened with tears.
“Yeah,” he said thickly and then swallowed hard. “I think I do. I need to go home.”
“Right, good.” I was disarmed by his expression; I hated to see him upset. “Let’s go.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I need to go home alone tonight and think about all of this and maybe—” He gulped. “You need to do some thinking too, because if you actually believe all those things about me, I’m not sure why we’re together.”
“Come on, Chase, don’t be such a drama queen.”
It wasn’t a fair accusation, because despite having a career in the theater, Chase was an easygoing, drama-free guy.
“Drama queen?” His voice took on a hardened edge. “Tell me something, Adan: Why haven’t I met your friends?”
“What?”
“Do you have friends?”
“Of course I have friends.” They weren’t the kinds of friends that he had, not people I’d known for years or I could call in a crisis or who I wanted to spend time with outside of class.
“Why haven’t I met them?” he demanded.
“There’s no reason for—”
“Is it because you’re ashamed to tell them you’re dating a guy like me?” Hearing my words thrown back at me was like a slap to the face. I reeled back. “What about your family?”
