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“Get out!” he said, thumping my knee. “And?”
“Ugh, it was sweet and hot and damned good.” I briefly screwed my eyes shut. “But he’s closeted and I’m not, and we know how that goes.”
“Did you discuss any of that?”
“Sort of?”
“…I’m afraid of what it’ll mean.”
“Besides, I wouldn’t want to get mixed up in anything when I need to study and make good grades to keep my scholarship.”
He frowned. “So maybe this is going to be another secret hookup thing?”
Been there, done that.
“Maybe not? He seemed way too nervous, and it was only kissing.”
Some really good kissing…
“Why are things always so complicated?” Pete said, and I had a feeling he had a story too. Maybe about his date with Jenny.
“Okay, tell me everything. How was your date?”
We stayed up there for another hour as he told me about nearly standing her up because he got a flat tire, and that by the time he arrived, she almost didn’t believe him. But he’d asked her out again, and he hoped there wouldn’t be any more mishaps because he really liked her.
After we parted ways, I padded into our room, checked to make sure Star was fast asleep, and crawled into bed.
* * *
When the alarm blared Monday morning, I hit Snooze and turned over. Star was already up—bright and cheery, no doubt—but I hadn’t slept very well. I was a little nervous that Henry would have regrets, and that didn’t feel very good.
I should’ve been the one with regrets, for Christ’s sake.
I’d have never thought Henry would be one of those guys. But he was barely out even to himself, let alone anyone else in his life, and maybe he wouldn’t be for a long time. Besides, like I’d told Pete, I didn’t have time for any boys right now, especially closeted ones. It’d been fun to make out, but anything beyond that should remain off-limits.
With that thought firmly in place, I rolled out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom.
I showered, brushed my teeth, and made my way into the kitchen, where Mom was waiting with breakfast. She barely got any sleep between her job and getting Star to preschool, and she had the shadows under her eyes to prove it. But I also knew she’d crash for a few hours as soon as we left.
Star was singing as she ate her eggs, and God, I’d kill for that innocence again.
I reached for a plate for the eggs, then popped bread in the toaster.
“You never did tell me about your night out with your new friends,” Mom said around a sip of coffee.
“It was fine,” I murmured because I felt exhausted.
“Just fine, not fun?”
I buttered my toast, considering the question. “Fun to me would be going to a musical, not a football game.”
“I thought you met dance friends too,” she said as I sat down at the table.
“I did, and that part was cool. Emil is in the marching band, and the show they put on during halftime was impressive.” They sounded very polished, and their formations on the field to spell out the school letters were pretty cool.
“I bet.” She smiled. “And Henry Albrecht?”
I set down my toast as my stomach constricted. “He’s the quarterback, so he sort of had to be there.”
