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“Do you have a boyfriend back at school?”
I fake a grin in his direction, hating that his eyes light up a little. Landon would know my smile isn’t real.
“We aren’t talking about him,” I mutter.
“Say no more,” Seth says, his smile growing wider.
It takes me a moment to realize I said that out loud in reference to Landon, and he took it as me having a boyfriend in Texas.
“I don’t have a boyfriend in Texas.”
“Casual lovers then.”
If you count a couple of make-out sessions, one lackluster hand job, and a failed attempt at a blowjob as lovers.
Just to clarify, the failed blowjob was on the other guy’s part not mine—horrible gag reflex. The man sitting across from me can attest to my oral skills. At least he never complained in high school.
“Nothing serious,” I say. I don’t want him thinking I’m the type of man to cheat on someone I care about, despite feeling like a cheater every time I tried to hookup back in Texas.
I scratch behind my ear before focusing on the watered-down glass of soda in front of me.
“You know,” he says in a tone that oozes the same level of flirtiness that attracted me to him in the first place. “I’m not seeing anyone either.”
I look up at him—really take a long, hard look at the man.
He’s matured over the years. I haven’t seen him since graduation, and since my obsession has remained solely with Landon, I haven’t searched for him on social media.
He’s better looking than he was in school—all of his boyish traits have faded away, replaced with manliness. There’s scruff on his jaw, his glasses have been replaced with contacts, and he’s finally figured out a way to tame his unruly hair into something that looks purposely messy rather than out of control.
“Do you ever think about that night?”
“When you sucked me off the very first time? I think about it often.”
Laughter bubbles out of my throat, but I quickly turn serious again.
“Not that night. The night we got jumped outside the movie theater.”
He leans back in the booth, his smile sliding off his face. “I try not to.”
“We broke up shortly after that.”
His fingers toy with his straw wrapper, his eyes fading a little as he thinks back on that time in our lives.
“I didn’t want to be… who I was.”
“You blamed my obsession with Landon.”
“I would’ve blamed anyone at that point. Getting the shit beat out of me for smiling at a boy really made me not want to smile at boys any longer.”
He doesn’t call me on my veiled confession of his reasoning years ago. The man usually isn’t so obtuse.
“He’s in prison, you know.”
“Who?”
“Chadwick Hall.”
Cold dread fills me as he lifts his eyes to meet mine.
“For what?” I ask, already knowing I’m going to hate the answer.
“Beat a gay teen to death outside a club in Denver.”
Guilt swims inside of me, my stomach contents threatening to reemerge.
“He didn’t.”
Seth nods. “He did.”
We sit in silence, stewing in our own culpability.
Police reports were filed that night, but neither of us gave the real reason we were attacked. We were out to our close group of friends, but still in the closet where our families were concerned. The struggle with sexuality is so hard when it goes against what society sees as the norm, even when there’s a supportive group surrounding you. We were no different at the time.
We never told the cops it was a hate crime. If we had, things could be much different. Those types of offenses carry a heavier weight, harsher punishment than what Chadwick Hall had gotten.
“We were kids. How could anyone have predicted…” His words trail off.
“Doesn’t make me feel any less accountable.”
“Me either,” he quickly agrees. “That’s why I’m out and proud now.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed,” I say, pointing at his shirt.
He looks down at the Sorry Ladies. I Suck Dicks shirt he’s wearing.
“Too obvious?”
I shake my head at him, forcing a little happiness inside of me because I can’t bear to feel worse right now.
Landon urged me to tell the full truth that night, but I was terrified, afraid that more assaults would come if everyone knew.
“You need to tell the truth.”
“I did,” I say, groaning as I try to sit a little straighter on my bed.
“You didn’t.”
“I got my ass beat by a couple of assholes. End of story.”
He growls in frustration, but he takes a seat beside me. I drink in the warmth of his arm against mine, wishing he’d hug me again. He held my hand at the hospital, and despite having a boyfriend, I reveled in that as well.
“No one cares that you’re gay,” he says after a long pause.
“Only someone who was never glared at because of who they were dating would say something like that.”
Seth and I don’t even touch while out in public, but there are always people who watch us, wondering. We get snide comments and insults more often than anyone should.
