by Annie Harper
“True.”
“God, you’re cocky.” Logan’s eyes roll again, but playfully . “And it’s The Drifters, by the way. The Temptations covered their song.”
“Impressive.” Dave nods and continues, “And yeah, okay? It has more than crossed my mind that you might be gay. But if you’re not? Fine, okay. Unless you’re a raging homophobe, oh well, and on we go.”
“Of course I’m gay. It’s kind of obvious, isn’t it?” It’s a relief to say it.
“I guess, but whatever. It’s musical theater camp. Nothing’s obvious.”
“Touché.”
Logan feels the beat between them and then somehow they both giggle.
“This is just supposed to be my ‘Summer of Un-gay,’” Logan reveals, and Dave’s eyebrows rise.
“What is ‘un-gay’?”
“You know, gay-irrelevant. Like you said, it’s musical theater camp—a place where I can actually be anonymous, not stick out. I’ve waited seventeen years to blend in,” Logan says, “and then you go and—”
“Blow your cover?”
“Kind of, yeah.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“I think I’d waited fifteen years—when I first came to camp—to actually be gay. To be out. To not have to pretend I was swooning over the cheerleader instead of the basketball player. I’m always so invisible at home.” Dave shrugs, but there is sadness in his eyes.
“And here you’re not.”
“No.”
“And you assumed that because you’re out that I’d want to sing a flirty duet with another guy.”
“I wasn’t really assuming anything. I just—I don’t know—felt like singing a duet with you.”
“You felt like it?”
“Everyone else flirts all the time. It’s innocent. It’s fun. And then you were there, so I took my chances.” Dave sighs. He looks slightly defeated. “I may be good at a lot of things—yes, cocky, I know—but I guess flirting isn’t one of them.”
Logan looks at him. He doesn’t know how to react. Un-gay is definitely not working very well, because he is suddenly feeling very, very gay. He bites his lip.
“Seriously, Logan, I’m sorry it made you uncomfortable. That was the last thing I wanted. From now on, it’s all business.” Dave smiles and makes an “aye aye, captain” gesture. It’s ridiculous. And somehow Logan still sees flirty. Dammit. “I will sing with Stuart and you will be anonymous Logan, The Very Un-Gay,” Dave teases warmly.
“Okay.”
“Okay.” Dave nods and looks him straight in the eyes. “So I’ll see you tomorrow, Logan.” He pats Logan on the arm and walks away; Logan’s eyes follow. Dave takes about six steps, then hesitates and turns around. “But, Logan—”
“Mmm?”
“I liked singing a duet with a cute guy,” Dave says, “so let me know if you change your mind.”
And then Dave is gone and he’s anonymous Logan again, as requested.
The only problem is that being anonymous is not nearly as much fun as being cute.
* * *
The campers arrive the next day, and with them the anticipated chaos. Not being a cabin counselor has its advantages, in this time of the newly homesick, but the swim staff administer every camper’s swim test. Which means standing on the docks, baking in the sun and testing kids for two days straight.
“All right, group B, out of the water. You’re done.” Stuart claps his hands at the end of their second day, turns to Logan and says, “And man, I am done. I’m stripping this off and jumping in.”
“I second that idea.” Sarah passes behind them with Dave at her side.
“Exactly. What’s the point of swim staff if not to prance around in speedos all day?” Dave says and winks at Stuart.
Sarah smiles. “He said it, not me.”
Logan’s heart races; he anticipates that Dave will pull him into the conversation, say something casual like, “Right, Logan?” But it never comes. Stuart pulls his shirt off and over his head, makes his not very convincing suggestive eyes at Dave and dives into the water.
* * *
At staff snack the next evening, Logan sits with Matt, Stuart, Kevin and another canoe staff guy, Jake. They are engaged in the most stereotypical of conversations.
“My ex-girlfriend definitely said boxers,” Matt says.
“No way, man. Briefs are classic,” Kevin pipes in. He would think so; he has the body for them.
Jake shrugs. “Depends on the goal of the moment. Boxers for sleep, briefs for the ladies.” Kevin high fives him, Matt looks sheepish.
“I don’t know, guys…”
Oh God, that’s Dave coming over.
Suddenly four eager faces turn to Dave. Of course, the gay boy must have the answer to man’s greatest mystery. “In my opinion, only a few guys can pull off the brief. I say, boxer briefs—perfect on my ex. And I like them best for comfort.”
“Diplomatic even in your underwear choices,” Logan says under his breath but just loudly enough to be heard. He didn’t really mean to enter this conversation, but something about watching four straight guys, doe-eyed over Dave talking about his ex-boyfriend’s assets, just brings out the sass.
Logan has just opened himself up to a myriad of potential topics he does not want to talk about—sex, relationships, his underwear preferences. Too many cans of worms here, and he’s just handed Dave the can opener.
But Dave doesn’t bite.
“Hey, we can’t all have Stuart’s six-pack,” Dave says, bouncing the conversation away from Logan. Casually. Because that’s what Logan asked him to do.
Logan is still feeling inexplicably grumbly when Sarah and Matt walk up. “I was just telling Matt that we have some killer duets to share at the talent show,” she brags, grabbing his arm.
“Yes, Sarah. We better get practicing,” Logan says, hoping his sarcasm isn’t too biting. “Talent show is like the second-to-last night of camp, after all.”
“Oh as if you don’t like to be perfectly prepared,” Sarah rolls her eyes at him and walks off with a wave. He’s feeling leftover irritation about Dave and his underwear. He knows he has no reason to be irritated, the opposite, actually. Dave is doing exactly what Logan asked him to do. And it seems that this has only made Dave more infuriating.
“Can I ask you something?” Matt says, breaking the quiet as they amble back to their cabin.
“Sure?”
“You and Sarah know each other from home, right?”
“Yeah.” Logan sighs. “I know I was hard on her just now. But we’re actually very close.”
“But you’re not…?” Matt doesn’t finish the sentence. Oh. Ohhh. Matt wants to know if he and Sarah are an item. This is getting ridiculous. If Matt is presenting the opportunity, he’ll take it.
Logan shrugs. “I’m gay, Matt. So no, we’re not. Not like that.”
“Yes!” Matt fist bumps the air and looks so pleased. “I mean, not about the gay thing. Not that there’s anything—of course, I mean… I just think Sarah’s cute, okay?”
Logan exhales, relieved. Matt isn’t batting an eyelash at his big reveal. “Oh! Ha! You do? I mean, that’s great. You should go for it.”
“I should?”
“I try at all costs to avoid talking to Sarah about dating, Matt, but I do think she might…” Logan does try not to talk to Sarah about her crushes, because that inevitably leads to her trying to talk to him about his crushes, or lack of crushes, which he definitely does not want to talk about. Or think about. But he figures a little encouragement is okay, because Matt is far less likely to try to engage him in a conversation about Dave’s perky butt… which Logan definitely hasn’t noticed.
“Oh, cool. Really? Cool.” Matt nods and smiles. “I mean, I kind of figured you might be gay, but Dave always says never to make assumptions—”
“Especially at creative arts camp,” Logan adds and Matt hums his agreement.
“So, is it, like, a secret?”
“Okay.” Matt appears to be deep in thought. “But like, what if you think someone is cute?”
“Ha!” Logan laughs. “That stuff doesn’t happen to gay kids in high school, Matt. We stay irrelevant until college.”
Matt stops as he opens the door to their cabin. “Okay. But this isn’t high school. It’s creative arts camp, remember? Never assume anything.” He punches him on the shoulder and smirks before walking inside.
“Ow,” Logan mumbles to himself. Damn him.
Logan does manage to come out to the rest of his staff cabin that night. He doesn’t want to be in the closet. He just wants his sexuality to be irrelevant—and amazingly, it actually might be just that. So amidst a heated argument about whether the navy slacks look nerdy or perfect with the red and navy plaid shirt, he slips in that they should let the gay guy in the room choose. So what if it’s a stereotype? It’s one he happens to embrace. And while he’s pretty sure that Stuart and Kevin share a look behind his back, no one flinches, and he’s almost positive the look was a smile.
* * *
Friday night, five days into the first week and just after the first banquet, Logan opts out of the evening staff softball game. The dinner was almost flawless for a camp meal; the turkey was a little rubbery, but the apple pie was good, and they had sparkling, non-alcoholic cider. Also, the dining hall disco décor—complete with mirror balls created by the fine arts campers—was a nice touch. Still, he craves quiet, so he sets out for a walk along the waterfront.
The camp is beautiful and, while he’s never considered himself the outdoorsy type, he can appreciate the wonder of a clear sky full of stars, the scent of evergreen trees and a quiet lake. Logan has to admit that, since coming out to his co-staff, he feels relieved. He can be gay-irrelevant without being closeted, and the easy conversation gives him the relaxed feeling that is so impossibly elusive in Allentown.
As he approaches the boating area, a short walk from the swimming docks along a dirt path, he hears crickets and the quiet sound of shifting water. He expects to be alone, with the campers in bed and the staff at softball or in cabins, but notices one lone canoe in the distance. He stands on the shore and watches Dave dip the paddle into the water, his arms flexing easily, his hair mussed and curlier than he wears it during the day. The breeze is warm, but Logan gets goose bumps when Dave makes eye contact.
“Logan,” Dave projects across the water as he starts paddling over. “No softball for you?”
Logan shrugs. “Not really my thing.”
“Guess we had the same idea. Care to join me?” Dave offers as he paddles close to the shore.
Logan wants to. He knows he wants to. It’s beautiful on the lake. “I’ll get a paddle.” Logan walks to the shed. The goose bumps are back and he’s shivering, but the circumstance is random and not a big deal—not to him, not to Dave. It would have been more awkward to decline the invitation. Though Logan gives Dave a hard time, he likes Dave, admires his easy out-ness, his manners, his kindness, even his ridiculous ego. And while the romance of a canoe ride on a silent lake at sunset isn’t lost on him, Dave’s relaxed nonchalance toward him removes any hint of that possibility. So what if un-gay was his own request? Dave has completely embraced it.
Logan leaves his sandals on the beach, rolls his pants up to his knees and wades out a few steps before he climbs into the front of the canoe. He dips his paddle in the water as Dave starts to steer them away.
The conversation is easy. “So how was the first week of new swimmers?”
“Well, let’s see… daily complaints that the water’s too cold; fifteen-year-old boys who think they’re God’s gift to sports, but can barely swim two laps; and kids who enjoy singing a medley from The Sound of Music while treading water. So I guess, all in all, it evens out.”
Dave chuckles. “I prefer a Rent medley for canoe trips.”
“Of course,” Logan agrees. “Oh but, there’s the junior girls. They don’t want to get their hair wet.” Dave laughs, splashing Logan gently with the paddle. Logan splashes back. “Don’t even think about it. I definitely appreciate the importance of flawless hair—”
“Of course.”
“But perhaps one should style and coif after swim lessons. I just threaten them with ten minutes of treading water and they jump right in.”
Dave talks about this and that but stays safely away from anything too personal. Because that’s what Logan wanted. But they’re on a lake and alone, and the reality is that Logan doesn’t have many gay friends. In fact, he doesn’t have any gay friends. And the idea of actually having someone to talk to makes the temptation too great not to take the risk.
Logan rips off the Band-Aid. “So tell me about your boxer-briefs-loving ex-boyfriend.” He blushes but gets it out. No segue. Subtlety isn’t his forte at the best of times and certainly not when bringing up nerve-wracking, forbidden topics with out and proud Dave.
“You want to know about Colin?” Dave seems surprised.
“I just asked, didn’t I?”
Logan turns quickly to look at Dave. He has a sheepish grin on his face; Dave raises his eyebrows but continues. “Okay. Well, we met at the beginning of my junior year last year when I transferred to Smithson—”
“Smithson Academy? As in Lancaster?”
“Pennsylvania boys represent.” Dave fist-bumps the air.
“God you weren’t kidding when you said that you were from a place where two boys don’t sing together.”
“No, I wasn’t.” Dave is earnest. “That’s why I go to Smithson Academy, actually. I got bullied at my public school after the only other out gay guy and I started eating lunch together. Not even a boyfriend. I had been waiting so long to be out, but it was safer to be invisible.”
“I had no idea, Dave. I’m so sorry.” Logan turns to make sure Dave can see his eyes.
“Anyway, I found this summer camp and transferred to Smithson Academy, where they’re serious about no bullying in exchange for a lot of your parents’ money. The rest is history.” Dave sighs.
“And you met a guy?” Logan prompts. Because how does a gay kid in high school in Pennsylvania get a boyfriend? Like, what are the odds?
“Yeah. I mean, I think it’s more accurate to say he met me. Colin isn’t subtle, and when he found out I was gay, well—” Dave pauses. “We were making out in the backseat of his car the next weekend.”
“Oh.” Logan feels his heart fall into his stomach. He has heard plenty of stories about the backseats of cars. So what if it’s never been him? He’s always been prepared to wait until college. Maybe he’s just jealous. He looks down, dips his paddle.
“Too much? Sorry.” Dave seems to sense his unease. Which of course only increases it.
“No. No. I’m not that innocent.” Sometimes I feel like I am.
“No—I didn’t mean—I mean. ‘Summer of Un-gay?’” Oh. That again.
“It’s okay, Dave. We’re kind of alone, if you hadn’t noticed. And I asked,” Logan says. “But he’s your ex-boyfriend?” He asks this against his better judgment; somehow, he wants to be sure.
“Yeah. I mean, we dated for about six months. He was my first—my only—” This time, Dave lets the pause linger. Saying more would be TMI, and Logan really doesn’t want to know the details. “But I think we’re better off as friends. He’s lots of fun to take to a gay bar—Oh my God, I should tell you this story. This one night he took us to The Stonewall in Allentown—”
The Stonewall? Dave has been out to the gay bar in my city? Logan’s mind is racing.
“And there was a drag queen pageant that night. When we almost didn’t get in, because I didn’t have a fake ID, he told them I was Madam Kentucky, the award-winning queen, but my costume was inside. The bouncer scowled at me but let us in.” Dave laughs and Logan finds himself enjoying the low chuckle behind him, the shared secrets.
“Oh my God.” Logan can’t help but giggle, despit
e his sweaty palms and the way his heart races at the image of clean-cut Dave in Allentown’s gay bar. “Madam Kentucky.”
“Yeah, but anyway—” Dave seems to have accepted the permission, because he’s babbling. Less sophisticated. It’s cute. No it’s not. “I guess Colin’s not very—umm—romantic?” Dave tries. “Cheesy, right?”
“No, not at all.” Logan’s voice is too breathy. He needs to figure out how to turn that off.
“So, I just wasn’t feeling it—don’t even know what it really is,” Dave admits. He’s bashful. Despite gay bars and first times and Colin and duets, he seems just as naive as Logan.
“Me neither,” Logan adds. A charged quiet falls between them. They are on their way back to the shore, and Logan senses that, when they get back, it might get awkward. But he doesn’t want it to be. Not now. His mind races as he tries to figure out how to gracefully exit the tension between them. And then a paddle splashes on the water and droplets land all over his back. He whips around. “What the—?”
Dave maneuvers the canoe onto the sand. “Gotcha.” He’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
Logan steps out of the canoe, rolling his eyes. “At least you didn’t get my hair.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
They’re quiet again as they hoist the canoe to its rafters and put away their paddles.
“Thank you, Logan Hart, for a lovely evening canoe ride.”
Logan bites back his natural sarcasm in the face of sincerity. Especially sincerity from a sparkly-eyed gay boy who seems at least willing to be his friend. “Thank you,” Logan says, his voice breathy, “for taking me, I mean.”
Dave just smiles as they walk along the path back to the main camp. Their arms brush. Logan gets goose bumps. Summer breeze again.
* * *
Saturday evenings at camp are socials. ; ”Social” is an esoteric camp word for what the rest of the world calls “dances,” and which includes: music, mocktails and awkward eleven-year-olds having their first slow dances with six feet between them. If Logan were eleven, he would certainly have stayed home. Which is exactly where the camper standing by the drinks table, Justin Chen, looks as though he wants to be: anywhere but here.