“Um … yeah.”
I glance up at her. She’s stopped blotting her shirt. She picks up her burger. Chews. Stares out the window. Sighs.
“Are you mad?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s kind of sweet in a way. I mean, being all super polite and nervous.” Then she says quietly, “When’s your family getting home?”
“Darla said she’d be back at eight. Dad later, I think.”
“So, seven thirty just to be safe. That’s about an hour and a half from now.” She hasn’t finished her dinner. But she crumples everything into a pile on her tray. Starts to scoot out of the booth.
My heart speeds up. I grab her hand. “Wait,” I whisper. “Are you saying you’re ready?”
She shrugs.
I jump out of the booth. Dump both of our trays. Open the door for her. Open the truck door for her. Try not to hyperventilate on the drive home.
Holy crap.
CHAPTER
15
It goes good. Great, actually. Awesome. No problems at all. While it’s happening, I think Jillia is into it as much as I am. I mean, she never says no or stop. But then she gets kind of quiet and shy afterward. I keep asking if she’s okay. If it hurt or whatever.
“I’m fine,” she says.
We’re under my covers. She’s resting her head against my shoulder. I’m stroking her hair. Having her in my bed, naked, is so perfect. I wish we could stay like this forever. I glance at the clock on my nightstand. “It’s seven thirty. We should probably get dressed.” I kiss her. “Then do you want to do homework or something?”
She shakes her head. “Maybe you should drive me home.”
She lowers her eyes while I get dressed. Then she makes me turn my back while she gets dressed. It’s kind of funny. A few minutes ago we couldn’t have been more naked with each other. But I can tell she wouldn’t like me pointing that out.
She’s quiet on the entire drive to her house. I feel crummy. Like I did something wrong. But I can’t think what.
“See you tomorrow,” I say as she gets out of the truck.
“Yeah. See you tomorrow.” She leans over. Gives me a quick peck on the lips and leaves.
I watch her unlock her front door. Walk inside. I’m ready to wave, but she doesn’t look back.
As I drive home, part of me is bummed. Wracking my brain. What did I do wrong? But a bigger part of me is totally stoked. I did it! I’m not a virgin anymore. I feel light, like I can float home. Like I can carry the pickup on my shoulders. I turn up the car radio. Pat the steering wheel in time to the music. Wow, that was fantastic. And I was totally with Jillia. My mind wasn’t wandering places I didn’t want it to go. Places I was afraid it would go. Man, I feel good. Especially after all that crap I went through today.
I’m in control again. Like I will be from now on.
The next morning I hang out at my locker. Fermio walks by. “Where’s the gorillia?”
I shrug. “Late, I guess.” I text her again. No response. Again.
“Going to the game tonight?”
Oh, right. It’s their first league softball game. “Yeah. Absolutely.”
“Cool.” Then he smirks. “Maybe we’ll have some fans to entertain ourselves with.”
“Yeah. Maybe.” I hope Nate and Ryan don’t show up. But if they do, it’s their own stupid fault.
By the time I get to first period, the late bell is already ringing. Jillia never did show. Or text. It’s not like we get together every morning. Or like we always return texts right away. But I’m worried. I want to see her. We were intimate last night. It seems like she’d want to see me. I’m already looking forward to the next time we can hook up.
I take a seat in the back of the art room. Start to look around for Zach. Stop looking. He doesn’t mean anything to me. I love Jillia. Jillia. In the middle of the room is a table topped with a stack of books and a glass ball. Another still life? Really? I have the overwhelming urge to be sarcastic. Damn it, Zach. I want him next to me so we can say snarky things and laugh. I let my eyes wander. Find him. He’s a couple of easels away on the right. He smiles at me, shakes his head. I smile back. Can’t help it.
Mr. Spencer walks in late. “If you’ve started drawing this still life, please stop. It’s for the painting class next period. Sorry about that.” A couple of kids groan and rip pages off their easels. “The rest of this week will be portraits.” He spends about twenty minutes lecturing us on how to draw faces. Then he says, “Pair up with a partner.”
The girl on my right waves at a friend across the room. She quickly gathers her things and moves. I’m about to turn to the kid on my left when Zach slides onto the empty stool. My heart blips.
“Hey, dude,” he says smoothly. “Wanna be drawing buddies?”
His voice is deep and seductive. He’s being funny. Right? I feel that stupid heat rising to my face. The desire. I should ignore him. Partner with someone else. But I can’t be a jerk. Of course I smile and say, “Sure.”
“Cool.”
I watch as he gets out his pencils. I can’t believe this. Last night I was making love to my girlfriend. And here I am, wanting Zach again. I thought I had this under control.
“Do you want to go first?”
I look up from his long fingers. “What?”
“You draw me or I draw you?”
“Oh. You draw first.” Then I say, “I’m hoping we’ll run out of time. I’m going to blow at this.”
He grins. “You never know. Maybe portraits are your specialty.”
“No. I totally don’t think so.”
He positions his easel where he wants it. Then he says, “Okay. Look over my right shoulder and hold still.” I feel him studying my face. He’s being clinical about it. I’m his drawing subject. But the attention is excruciating. His right shoulder moves gracefully as he starts drawing. I hear the scritch-scritch of his pencil against paper. He’s so close to me. So close. I smell his soapy skin. His hair. His clothes. I focus on his perfect ear. His thick black hair. I want to touch it.
“You have nice eyes,” he says.
I swallow hard. “What?”
“Yeah. You’re nice looking, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“Uh … no. I guess I don’t mind.”
Crap. Crap, crap, crap.
He said it like he’s stating a fact. Not like he’s flirting. But is he? My face is getting hot. My cheeks must be turning red.
“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Oh no. He noticed. “I guess I’m not all that used to compliments.”
He sighs. “Yeah, who is?” Then he says, “Don’t talk for a minute. I need to draw your mouth.”
My mouth. His mouth.
Argh! I dig my fingernails into my legs.
Jillia. I’ve got to think about Jillia. I imagine us together last night. That was so beautiful. So perfect. And it hits me. Like a fifty-pound halibut. Like a tackle to my midsection. I am bisexual. I am totally bisexual. I am the circle in the middle of that line that Nate drew.
And I don’t have a clue what to do about it.
CHAPTER
16
For the rest of first period, I try to blank my mind. With Zach focusing on me so hard, I’m convinced he’s seeing inside of me. When he’s finished his drawing, “bisexual” will be written across my forehead. He’ll laugh. The class will laugh. My friends will find out. My life will be over.
I sit on my stool like a potato.
“Okay, clean up,” Mr. Spencer says after what seems like half a day. I’m grateful I won’t have to draw Zach. My hand would shake if I did.
“Perfect timing,” Zach says. “Just finished.”
I take a deep breath and look at his sketchpad. It’s just … me. No letters on my forehead.
“Wow. Awesome, as usual,” I tell him.
He shrugs. “You’re a good subject.”
My friggin’ face heats up again.
“And I like drawing people
,” he adds.
“You like drawing period.”
He smiles. “This is true.”
I pick up my backpack. “Well, I’d better get going.”
“Yeah, me too.” He starts putting his pencils away. “Hey, Sarah is working afternoons the rest of this week. If you want that rain check on the car tour.”
“Oh. Okay.” I throw my backpack over my shoulder. “Maybe.” And I’m gone.
I will not be going to Coffee Plantation this week or any week in the future. I know I told myself that before. But this time I mean it. It’s bad enough being so close to him in art class. I can’t imagine sitting alone with him in that Mustang. Actually, I can imagine it. And that’s the problem.
I finally see Jillia at lunch. She’s eating in the cafeteria with her softball buddies. When I approach the table, none of the girls smirks or giggles. So I figure she hasn’t told them what happened last night. I shouldn’t be surprised. I haven’t told anyone either. It’s not something I want to hide, but it is pretty personal. I lean behind her. Whisper in her ear, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
The sandwich she’s holding freezes midway to her mouth. She sets it down. She slowly gets up from the table. We walk outside to a cedar tree. She leans against it with her arms crossed. Stares at the ground.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Shrug.
“Jillia, this is nuts. I need to know what’s going on.”
She meets my eyes. Then she looks across campus. “I think I wasn’t ready.”
“But at McDonald’s you said—”
“I know what I said. So I guess that means it’s not your fault.”
“It must be my fault. You’re treating me like dirt.”
She takes a deep breath. Looks at me again. “You’ve been pressuring me. You’ve been bugging me nonstop to have sex. I felt like I didn’t have a choice, like I needed to just get it over with.”
I reach out. Touch her arm. She moves it away.
“I thought you were into it,” I say. “I thought you wanted to.”
Another shrug. “It’s like making out is the only thing we have in common.”
I don’t know what to say. I finally sputter, “I can’t take back what we did last night. And I wouldn’t want to.”
“Of course you wouldn’t! You finally got what you wanted.” She pushes away from the tree. “Just leave me alone for a while, okay?”
My heart catches. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“I need time to think.” She brushes past me.
I watch her walk back to the cafeteria. I must have stopped breathing because I feel like I’m going to pass out.
The rest of the day goes by in a numb blur. Jillia. The love of my life. She can’t break up with me. She can’t! She told me to leave her alone for a while. I don’t know if I can. And how long is a while? Will it bug her if I go to her game? I want to support her. I want to watch her play. So I’m going. Maybe if she sees me in the stands, she’ll realize we have more in common than sex.
I head out to the softball field feeling terrible. Maybe I did pressure her a little. Maybe I was in a hurry. I wanted to have sex because … well, just because I wanted to. But also to prove to myself I could. That I wasn’t gay.
I am such a douche.
When I get to the field, both teams are stretching and jogging. Jillia glances up from a knee bend and sees me. Her expression is blank. I don’t wave or anything. Just climb up the metal bleachers.
“Hey, Miller!”
It’s Fermio. He and Josh are sitting on the top bench. I slide in next to Josh. The stands are more crowded today. More parents. More students. A service club has the snack bar open. Fermio reaches across Josh. Holds a bag of popcorn out for me. I shake my head.
Josh grabs a handful as it passes by. He picks out a kernel. Instead of throwing it in his mouth, he tosses it down the stands. It lands on top of a woman’s head. Her hair is so poofed up she doesn’t feel it. Josh and Fermio snicker. I wonder why he’s throwing popcorn at some stranger when I see who’s sitting in front of her: Nate and Ryan. When will those fags get a clue?
I admit, the popcorn on the woman’s head is kind of funny, but I feel embarrassed. “Dude, really?” I say to Josh.
He looks at me, grinning. “What?”
He tries again. This time the popcorn hits Ryan’s ear. He twists around. Sees us. His face blanches. He leans into Nate. Says something. Nate turns and looks at us. Then his eyes meet mine. He looks … I don’t know. Hurt, I guess. I’m thinking, Hey, doofus, you knew this could happen. Yet I have the sudden urge to move to the visitor’s bleachers, away from Josh and Fermio. I cross my arms. Nate turns back around.
The game starts. It’s kind of an exciting first inning with lots of hits and great fielding. Josh and Fermio watch the game, eating their popcorn instead of throwing it. Angela Cornish catches a scorching line drive for an out.
“Yo, Angela!” Fermio yells, “You’re my hero, baby!”
She doesn’t acknowledge him.
I nudge Josh. “He knows she’s a lesbian, right?”
“Yeah. But he thinks he’s such a stud, he can convert her.”
Josh and Fermio are so loud and obnoxious that no one’s sitting close to us. I am so not into this today.
As the top half of the first inning ends, I see a guy climbing the steps. He comes down our aisle, heading right for us. He’s big, older than us, maybe in his mid-twenties. At first I think he’s a teacher or coach I’ve never met. He’s going to tell us to shut up or to get lost.
But he sits next to me and asks in a soft voice, “Are you Brett?”
I say, “Yeah.”
He says, “I’m Travis. Nate sent me.”
CHAPTER
17
I kind of freeze. This guy, Travis, looks like a college quarterback. But if he’s a friend of Nate’s, then he’s probably gay. What’s he doing here?
Josh leans forward, looks over at Travis. I can tell he’s curious. Wondering if they can get away with more pranks, or if this guy is going to narc on them. “Hey,” Josh says.
“Hey,” Travis says, smiling.
Josh straightens. Whispers to me, “Friend of yours?”
I shake my head.
The bottom half of the first inning starts.
Travis leans in a little, says, “Don’t worry, I won’t talk loud enough for your friends to hear.”
“What do you want?”
“I guess it’s more about what you want. Nate said you were asking him questions.”
I don’t say a word. What the f———? I look down the stands at Nate. He’s focused on the game.
Travis says. “He told me you were asking for a friend. But I assume the friend is you.” When I still don’t respond, he says, “I’m bisexual. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”
I grip the edge of the bench. My breathing turns shallow. It’s like he’s diseased. I want him to go away. But I don’t. Because, yeah. There is one thing I’d really like to ask. “How do I stop it?”
“You don’t. Your feelings for men may change a little, but they’ll never go away. Next question.”
I gape at him.
“Look,” he says, “I’m not trying to be an a-hole. But we don’t have much time. Your friends are going to get curious, and I have to get back to work.”
I look over at Fermio and Josh. They are focused on rating the bodies of the visiting team’s players. “Why are you here?”
“Because I was in your shoes once. I got so depressed about it I almost killed myself. I guess you can say I’m paying it forward.” Then he says, “So I’m guessing you like girls. But there’s a guy you’re crushing on.”
I hesitate. “Yeah.”
“Same thing happened to me. I was about fourteen. Totally loved girls. Was at the mall one day, thought,‘Wow, that person is hot.’ Then I realized it was a guy. I got very confused. It’s been the same ever since. Not the confused part, but the hot-g
uy part.” He pauses. “Are you feeling pretty bad about yourself?”
“Duh. What do you think?”
“Let me give you the upside of being bi. We aren’t attracted to people based on their gender. We’re flexible. That’s pretty cool once you get used to it. On the downside, people will want to tell you you’re either gay or straight. Don’t let anyone pressure you to make that kind of choice. You are who you are.”
“Yeah, right.” I hiss through clenched teeth. “What about my friends? My family?”
“Your true friends are going to accept you no matter what. But only tell people you feel comfortable telling. The first person I told was a new girlfriend. I was seventeen. I felt like she had a right to know. And she was fine with it. Now it gets easier every time I come out.”
I’m shaking my head. “No,” I whisper so low I wonder if he can hear me. “I can’t come out. Ever.”
“It feels good to tell someone. Believe me. But it’s your choice. I’m just sharing my experiences.”
“Well, stop sharing!” I hiss. “I don’t need your help.”
Suddenly everyone’s leaping to their feet, cheering. I stand too, not wanting to draw attention to Travis and me. Something touches my hand. He’s handing me what looks like a business card. I don’t want to take it, but I quickly shove it in my back pocket before anyone notices. He pats my shoulder and leaves. I want to slug him.
Out on the field, a player is leisurely rounding the bases, pumping her fist in the air. She must have hit a home run.
As we sit back down, I see Travis reach the bottom of the bleachers. He walks toward the parking lot.
Josh asks, “Who was that guy? What were you talking about?”
“He’s … just some guy. A brother of one of the players.”
“Oh yeah? Which player?”
“Um … I don’t know.”
“He said he was a player’s brother but he didn’t say who?”
I glare at Josh. “No! He didn’t say!”
Josh holds up his hands. “Okay. Chill.”
Fermio leans over and stares at me. “What’s going on?”
I take a huge breath. Press my hands on my knees. I feel like crying. I just effing want to cry.
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