The Friend Scheme

by Cale Dietrich

  I look into his eyes.

  “Oh,” he says. “Are you saying you think Jake Gyllenhaal is totally hot?”

  I nod.

  It’s all I can do. I’m too scared to vocally confirm it. It’s enough, though. The job is done. I, Matt Miller, have officially admitted that I can find a guy hot.

  “I mean, he is, right?” he says.

  I laugh. “Yeah, he is.”

  I just came out.

  That sinks in. He knows about me now.

  “Are you surprised?” I ask.

  “Honestly, nope.”

  I laugh. “And here I was, thinking I’m being stealthy.”

  “It’s not that. It’s just I don’t tend to assume anyone’s sexuality. I’ve found it’s too hard to predict, anyway.”

  I nod again. That checks out.

  “What was it about the movie?” he asks.

  “I noticed this energy about him. It’s, like, I was so drawn to him. For the first time I wanted to see what someone looked like with less clothes on. And I found myself having dreams about him. Not sex ones, just, like, normal dreams. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was really intense. I’ve never told anyone about that, it’s so embarrassing.”

  “It’s not, I totally get you. It’s kind of magic, in a way.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That another person can make you feel that much.”

  I mean, agreed.

  “And I’ve totally felt that, too, by the way,” he continues. “I had this devastating crush on Sam Winchester from Supernatural. I watched all the episodes, just for him.”

  “Good choice. He’s hot.”

  I’ve never said those words out loud. He’s hot.

  It’s so simple, yet it means so much.

  “Yeah,” says Jason. “He is. I think those feelings are what makes being gay worth it. Like, it’s hard, but who wouldn’t chase that feeling, you know?”

  “For sure.”

  He swats my shoulder. “But, hey, now we have another thing in common!”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  That lingers between us.

  “Have you told anyone?” he asks. “Not about the Jake thing, about your liking guys.”

  I kick my legs. “Nope. Just you.”

  “Dude, I’m so honored. And, like, welcome to the family, I guess. I wish I had a rainbow flag I could wave.”

  “Hey, let’s not go overboard.” I grin.

  He puts his hand on my shoulder again.

  “Congrats, Matt,” he says. “I know how hard it is, and you did really well. I promise, it does get easier.”

  “Thanks. That’d be nice.”

  We sit in comfortable silence. Jason really was right before. We can just be together, and it’s not awkward.

  “Do you think you’ll tell your parents anytime soon?” he asks.

  “God no. Baby steps, for now.”

  He laughs. “Well, that suits me just fine. It can be our secret. But seriously, if you ever have anything you want to get off your chest, I’m around, okay? Anytime. You could even talk about your family, if you want.”

  I flinch. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Oh, why?”

  My mind is racing now. This all is just starting to feel a little too perfect. Here I have this gorgeous guy, who seems so interested in me as a person when nobody else has been before.

  Something must be up.

  “I’d just rather not,” I say.

  “Oh, dude, don’t stress. I get it.”

  Then again, I think I’m just being paranoid. Dad did raise me that way, after all. I’m probably just scared about being vulnerable. Which is scary for me.

  But I think it’s worth it.

  Jason is worth it.

  Someday, maybe soon, we’ll be good friends.

  I won’t keep anything from him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  My life feels split down the middle.

  On one side, it’s horrible. Dad is in a hospital, still in a coma. Apparently his recovery is going slower than they expected, so they decided to keep him under for a few more days.

  I’m grateful his room is private. Apparently that’s the best money can pay for here. On his bedside table are a few bouquets of flowers. The machines beside him are constantly whirring and beeping.

  When he wakes up, I’ll find out if the war is going to end or just get worse.

  On the flip side, there’s my friendship with Jason.

  I came out to him.

  I still can’t believe I did that.

  Now he really knows me, in a way I’ve never let anyone know me.

  My phone lights up on the table beside me.

  It’s from Jason.

  Hey. I have the house to myself all Sunday, my parents are going to some wine-tasting thing. Want to come over?

  Wait, his place?

  I don’t want to talk to him about my family. At least not yet, until I’m completely sure he can be trusted. But still, going to his place feels like a big step in that direction, which I’m not sure about. Even though I like the thought of us being our own men, we aren’t. As much as I dislike it sometimes, I’m a Miller.

  And he is whoever he is. It makes me doubt if I even can be friends with him if he doesn’t know who I really am. We’re the sons of criminals. We’ll grow up to be fully-fledged members of the underworld. If we even survive that long. At any second, either one of us could be shot and killed by a Donovan. I know that for sure now.

  I read his text again.

  A part of me thinks I should wait a while before responding. I want him to think I’m, like, busy or something, not just waiting around for him to message me. But he’s seen that I’ve read the message. Which means I can’t do that anymore. Once a message has been read, only an asshole doesn’t reply. I start typing.

  Hey! I’d love that!

  Sweet. You could come over at around twelve, if that works for you?

  Sounds perfect!

  * * *

  When I reach Jason’s house, I sit out front and gape.

  It’s a stunning mansion, with white walls, enormous windows, and a few sections of slate gray. The front lawn is massive and perfectly kept. His family is clearly loaded, which for some reason I wasn’t expecting.

  He might even have more money than me.

  Which is cool. Just … unexpected.

  I go up to the front door and text him: Hey, I’m here.

  My phone lights up immediately.

  I’ll come grab you, give me a sec.

  I scroll Instagram on my phone until the door opens. He looks so good, I’m at a loss for words. He’s in a black tank and gray shorts and is wearing a silver necklace with a circle pendant.

  His arms are exposed. I can’t help but notice them. His biceps are nicely muscled.

  “Hey, you,” he says, and then he hugs me.

  It lasts for a while. I like it.

  “I can give you a tour of the place, if you want?” he asks as he breaks away from me.

  “Sure.”

  Jason goes back in. I linger outside.

  “Want me to take off my shoes?” I ask.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Cool.”

  I go inside.

  And damn.

  Inside is a beautiful foyer, brightly lit with natural light. The floors are polished timber. Art hangs on the off-white walls, and there’s a Greek-looking sculpture in the corner. It’s the kind that’s missing arms for some reason.

  He walks to the next room. It’s an open area, a combination of a kitchen, living room, and dining room. It’s like mine, but bigger and brighter. The kitchen island is made of speckled white stone. At the far end, there’s a huge TV in front of two white leather couches. The whole place is immaculate and smells so nice. It’s a warm sort of smell, like vanilla.

  Outside, there’s the biggest infinity pool I’ve ever seen. A bunch of inflatable pool toys are floating on the surface,
including a unicorn with a rainbow mane. They are at odds with the whole sleek, expensive look of the rest of the place, but I like it. It’s surrounded by white sandstone, and there are wooden deck chairs under a blue umbrella.

  So he’s clearly mega rich.

  Seriously, who is he?

  His family must have a side gig going. I want to ask what it is, but we have the deal, and I know he’ll just remind me of that if I ask.

  Jason takes me up a flight of stairs. We walk down a hall with white walls. The whole place is so perfect it almost doesn’t look lived in. The first room we pass is obviously a girl’s bedroom. It’s empty. The blankets on the single bed are pale pink, and a plastic Minecraft sword is lying on the floor. Two huge white bookshelves are built into the back wall, arched over the bed frame. They’re crammed with books, which makes me smile.

  So he has a little sister. That’s cool.

  I bet they’re really close. He seems like the sort of guy who’d be close with his siblings. Like, the best big brother ever.

  Jason closes her door.

  I wonder where she is, if their parents are at a wine tasting.

  We walk down the hall and reach another door.

  “And this,” he says with a proud flourish of his hands, “is my room.”

  Oh my God. It’s the cleanest boy’s bedroom I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve been in many. But still. It feels unnaturally perfect. Everything is expertly organized. And it’s so masculine. There are framed posters of all-star baseball players on the walls, some of which are signed. He even has a beanbag that looks like a baseball and a whole shelf devoted to trophies. It’s seriously crammed full of them.

  There’s no gaming stuff, like I was expecting. I thought his room would be like mine, but for games instead of movies.

  “What do you think?” he asks as he shifts from one foot to the other.

  “I like it.” I look around. “It feels way more adult than mine. I like it.”

  Seriously. He has a king bed with dark gray sheets and navy pillows. It’s the kind of bed I imagine an investment banker sleeping in.

  “Yeah, but your room feels like yours. This could be anyone’s. I had no say in it.”

  Okay. So his parents are controlling, like my dad.

  I glance around. He does have a point about it being anyone’s room, as besides the baseball stuff, it looks a little generic. Nice, but maybe a little lacking in personality.

  Which sucks, because I really like Jason’s personality.

  “Well,” I say. “You have signed posters, not everyone has that.”

  “I guess.”

  He crosses his arms. “So, you wanna play Smash Bros.?”

  “Always.”

  He chuckles, and kicks the beanbag over so it’s at the foot of the bed. Attached to his TV is the newest PlayStation, and the newest Nintendo console. He has a bunch of games, and I recognize most of them. I’ve played, and loved, most of the ones he has, and the others I’ve been meaning to play at some point, including Horizon Zero Dawn.

  He has good taste, is all I’m saying.

  “Have you played all of those?” I ask, pointing at them.

  “Most, yeah.”

  “Nice.”

  As the game boots up, I make my way over to his bookshelf and scan his books. It’s smaller than his sister’s but still nearly full. He has a complete set of Harry Potter hardcovers, and all the A Song of Ice and Fire books. He also has a rainbow section of books, including ones by Adam Silvera, David Levithan, and Benjamin Alire Sáenz.

  He’s out, so he’s allowed to display them like this.

  That’s pretty cool.

  I’ve read a few gay books, but I hide them. If they’re obviously gay in any way, I borrow them from the library and hide them in my closet as I read them. I hide them well, too, just in case Dad snoops.

  “Am I passing your test?” he asks.

  “Only just.”

  I look down and see he has all the Grishaverse books. I run my fingers along the spines. This is at least one good thing. It in no way makes up for how tragic the sports stuff is, but you know. It’s a start.

  Right beside them is a little plastic Arcanine figure. I pick it up. Jason closes the door behind him. It dawns on me that I’m in a gay dude’s bedroom, with the door shut. It doesn’t mean anything, though. Two gay dudes can be just friends. I’m sure of that.

  “I love this,” I say, lifting the figure.

  Jason’s face totally lights up, and he smiles that super-cute smile again. “Me too. She’s my favorite.”

  “Not to brag or anything,” I say. “But I can name, like, all of them. Even the new ones.”

  “Are you trying to impress me?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “Well, well done. I am impressed. Which is your favorite?”

  “Oh, it’s tough. I like so many. Like Goodra is cool, and I like Chandelure a lot, as well. If I had to pick, though, I’d pick Umbreon. Specifically shiny Umbreon. I just made it my phone background.”

  “Show me.”

  He moves in so close that his arm touches mine. I don’t exactly hate how it feels.

  I turn my phone and show him. It’s a picture I found on Tumblr of shiny Umbreon looking up at the night sky. I like it more than normal Umbreon because his circles are blue instead of yellow, and blue is my favorite color.

  “That’s awesome,” he says. “I really like it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Take a seat anywhere you want, by the way.”

  I sit down onto his beanbag, breathless, and wait until he hands me my controller. As he does, he touches my fingers again.

  I ignore it.

  We start playing. I let him pick Pokémon Trainer, and I pick Pikachu Libre.

  As we fight, I glance at him. He’s totally focused on the game, his stare intense.

  It’s pretty hot. He lounges on his computer chair, with his legs resting on an ottoman. Weirdly, I find myself staring at the stretch of ankle showing. I know ankles were, like, scandalous in the olden days, which I’ve always thought was weird. But now I somewhat get it.

  “Hey,” I say after the match ends. He won, but it was because he used an Assist Trophy, so I’m not sure it counts. “I was wondering if you wanted to talk more about what we talked about on the roof?”

  “Family stuff?”

  “No, er. I meant…”

  “Oh,” he says. “Gay stuff, you mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about it?”

  “Um, anything. I’m so new to it all, so I have questions.”

  “About sex? Well, when two guys really like each other, they play rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s topping, and then—”

  “Shut up! I know how sex works. I mean, like, what’s being out been like for you?”

  “Oh. Um, mostly good.”

  “Only mostly?”

  “Yeah. I think I’m lucky I’m a big dude, so people don’t tend to be homophobic to my face. Some girls treat me like I’m a cute plaything, which I don’t like, and sometimes I feel like guys on the team say stuff behind my back. That sucks.”

  “What do they say?’

  “I dunno. I think they might be less cool with it than they let on publicly. Like, even though I’m on the team, I’m not really close with anyone. We’re just acquaintances, really. All my actual friends are girls. Which is great, but I think maybe me being gay is part of the reason I haven’t clicked with other guys. Does that make any sense?”

  “For sure. But wait, do your parents know?”

  He nods. “Yeah, everyone does. It’s not a big deal, it’s, like, the tiniest part of me. I actually hate it when people make it my main thing, you know? I feel like my being gay doesn’t actually mean anything. I just like dudes in the way some guys like girls. It’s not a big deal. I’d rather people think of me as a gamer or a student council rep or a baseball player.”

  I don’t really agree that it’s not a big deal. But to ea
ch their own.

  He’s gay, he should be able to decide what it means to him.

  “You’re on student council?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Nerd.”

  His mouth drops open. “If you want to talk smack, you’re going to need to be a lot better at this game.”

  I laugh. “That’s fair.”

  “Anyway, do you have any other gay questions?” he asks. “I’m always happy to give you advice, if you want it. I can be like your gay Jedi master. Teach you the ways of the gay force and all that.”

  “Like a rainbow Yoda?”

  “Exactly. Much to learn about tongue pops, you still have, young master.”

  I laugh.

  “Seriously, though, did anyone have any issues with it?” I ask. “Sorry I have so many questions, I’ve just never actually talked to a gay guy before. I’ve always wanted to, I just…”

  “I bet you have, just not one who’s out,” he says. “And nobody had any issues. Not to my face, at least. For a while people thought I was going to go pro at baseball, and some people thought being gay would make that harder. Honestly, it just made me work more. You don’t get any crap if you’re the best, you know? Even if you like guys. But … I guess that’s not really a problem anymore.”

  “Wait, why?”

  “Well, um. I wasn’t good enough.”

  “But you’ve won so much! I saw all your trophies.”

  “Yeah, but that’s minor leagues. I tried to play at nationals and got spanked. It was bad, dude. You have no idea.”

  Tears fill his eyes, but he blinks them away.

  “Oh man, I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

  He runs a hand though his hair. “You know, nobody has ever said that before? Normally people just get mad that I messed up. Like if I’d just been better, I would’ve won. They didn’t know I gave it everything I had, and even though I did, I wasn’t good enough. People seem to have a hard time wrapping their head around that. Sometimes, people just aren’t good enough. I lost a few friends over it, actually. They only liked me because they thought I was going to be a big deal.”

  “They sound like assholes.”

  “I mean, I don’t disagree.”

  He clearly is pretty torn up about it.

  “And for the record, I don’t care if you win or lose,” I say. “If you become a big deal, I’ll be happy for you. But you don’t need to for me to be friends with you.”