This is like a hundred pins pushed slowly into my skin. A year-long relationship is a lot of trying.
I’m not . . . that.
“You didn’t sleep with her though, right?”
He takes another huge bite of pizza, shaking his head.
“So you think you might marry a Manda someday?”
I can see exasperation in his expression when he looks up at me, chewing. Swallowing, he looks around meaningfully. “Do you think this is the best place for this conversation?”
“We can do it later.”
“I want you,” he says quietly, ducking to take another bite. When he’s swallowed again, he looks straight ahead, but adds, “I don’t want anyone else.”
“Do you think the church will change their mind about us?” I ask. I nod toward the crowd of his peers across the field. “Do you think they’ll eventually come around?”
Sebastian shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“But you feel happy with me.”
“The happiest I’ve ever been.”
“So you know it isn’t wrong.”
His eyes clear and finally he looks at me. “Of course I do.”
Emotion rises, thick in my throat. I want to kiss him. His gaze drops to my mouth and then he blinks away, his face red again.
“You know what I’m thinking,” I say. “What I’m always thinking.”
He nods, leaning forward to reach his water bottle. “Yeah. Me too.”
• • •
The sun is hanging low in the sky when we put everything back in place and test to make sure it’s safely assembled. People are laughing, playing tag, tossing a Frisbee around. It’s so much better than the wrestling, name-calling of the trip to the lake the other day. There’s an undeniable layer of respect to everything we do here. Respect for the community, for each other, for ourselves, for their God.
Most everyone piles into a large van to head back to the church parking lot, but Sebastian and I hang back, waving as they retreat from view.
Sebastian turns to me, and his smile slips. “So? Was it terrible?”
“I was just thinking it wasn’t bad,” I say, and he laughs at this. “I mean, actually it was pretty cool. Everyone is so nice.”
“ ‘Nice,’ ” he repeats, shaking his head a little.
“What? I’m serious. It’s a nice group of people.”
I like being with his community not because I think this would be a good fit for me, but because I need that window into his head. I need to understand why he would ever say things like “I felt the Spirit so strongly this weekend,” or how he’ll pray to find answers. The reality is, this is the language he was born with and he was raised hearing. The LDS Church has an entire vocabulary that still sounds so stilted to me, but which rolls right out of them, and I’m coming to understand that it essentially just means things like “I’m trying to make the best choice,” and “I need to understand if what I’m feeling is wrong.”
The only sounds left in the park are of birds in trees overhead and the distant hum of tires on asphalt.
“What do you want to do?” I ask.
“I don’t want to go home yet.”
My whole body vibrates. “Then let’s stay out.”
We climb in my car with the weight of an anticipatory silence all along my skin. I pull out of the lot and drive. I just drive. I don’t even know where we’re going or what we’ll do when we stop, but when we’re miles from home, Sebastian’s hand slides onto my knee and slowly inches up my thigh. Houses fall away, and soon we’re on a quiet two-lane road. On instinct, I pull down a dirt road leading to a restricted-access side of the lake.
Sebastian looks back over his shoulder as we pass through the open gate with the sign NO ACCESS mostly obstructed by overgrown foliage. “Should we really go down here?”
“Probably not, but it doesn’t look like that gate has been closed for a long time, so I’m guessing we’re not the first to try it.”
He doesn’t reply, but I feel his uncertainty in the stiff shape of his hand on my leg, the rigidity in his spine. I have to trust that he’ll relax once he sees how truly isolated it is down here after dark.
The mud grows thicker, and I pull off into a firm patch of grass, shutting off my lights and then, finally, the ignition. My car engine ticks in the silence. Outside, it’s almost completely dark except for the shimmering reflection of the moon on the lake surface. Dad always insists I keep some emergency supplies in my trunk—including a thick blanket—and although it’s getting chilly with the sun gone, I have an idea.
Opening my door, I look over at him. “Come on.”
Reluctantly, he follows.
I pull the blanket from my trunk and spread it over the still-warm hood of my car. Using a few spare jackets and a random beach towel, I make some pillows for us up near the windshield wipers.
Like this, we can lie back and stare up at the stars.
When he sees what I’m doing, he helps me arrange it all, and then we climb up, lying back and letting out, in unison, a satisfied moan.
He bursts out laughing. “It looked so comfortable.”
I shift a little closer, and the hood protests with a metallic rumble. “It’s not so bad.”
Above us, the moon hangs low on the horizon, and stars seem to hold it up by strings.
“One thing I like about this place,” I tell him, “is you can see stars at night. We never could in Palo Alto. Too much light pollution.”
“One thing you like about this place?”
I turn, leaning forward to kiss him once. “Sorry. Two.”
“I know nothing about stars,” he says when I look back up at the sky. “I keep meaning to learn, but there never seems to be time.”
Pointing, I say, “Up there is Virgo. See the top four that form that lopsided trapezoid? Then there’s Gamma Virginis and Spica—they form, like, kite strings below?”
Sebastian squints, sliding closer to better see what I’m pointing to. “That shape there?”
“No . . . I think you’re looking at Corvus. Virgo is . . .” I move his hand so it’s hovering over my chest. My heart is going to climb right up my throat and out of my body. “Right there.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he whispers, smiling.
“And that bright one, that’s Venus—”
He inhales, excited. “Right, I remember—”
“And just beside it, that tight cluster? That’s the Pleiades,” I tell him. “They’ll move closer and closer together.”
“Where’d you learn all this?” he asks.
I turn to look at him.
He’s looking at me, too, so close.
“My dad. There’s not much to do after dark when we’re camping, other than make s’mores, tell ghost stories, and look at constellations.”
“Left to my own devices, I can only ever find the Big Dipper,” he says. His eyes drop to my mouth.
“I would be pretty useless out here without my dad.”
He blinks away, looking back up. “Your dad seems cool.”
“He is.”
An ache builds in my chest because my dad is the best, in part, because he knows me and loves all of me. And yet there is this entire side of Sebastian that his dad knows nothing about. I could go home and tell Dad everything that happened today—could even tell him about lying here with Sebastian on the hood of Mom’s old Camry—and it wouldn’t change anything between us.
Apparently Sebastian has the exact same train of thought, because out of the silence, he says, “I keep thinking about my dad the other day, hugging me so tight. I swear my whole life, the only thing I wanted was to make him proud of me. It’s so weird to say this out loud, but I feel like if Dad is proud of me, it’s this external confirmation that God is proud of me too.”
I don’t know what to say to this.
“I can’t even imagine what my dad would do if he knew where I was.” He laughs, sliding a hand over his chest. “Down a dirt road with a no-access sign, lying on
a car with my boyfriend . . .”
The word still sends a jolt through me.
“I used to pray so hard to not be attracted to guys,” he admits.
I turn and look at him.
He shakes his head. “I always felt so terrible afterward, like I was asking for something so minor when other people have these huge problems. But then I met you, and . . .”
We both let it trail off. I’m choosing to think the end of that sentence would be . . . and God told me you were the right choice for me.
“Yeah,” I say.
“So nobody at school knows you like guys, then,” he says.
I notice the way he avoids the words “gay,” “bi,” “queer” again. This would be the perfect time to have the Autumn/Manny/Julie/McKenna conversation, but it’s easy to skip it here. I mean, who knows what the girls heard, Manny has kept his knowledge pretty quiet so far, and Autumn promised on penalty of death to never say anything. Sebastian has his secrets; I guess it’s okay for me to have this one.
“No. I think because I’ve dated girls, most people just assume I’m straight.”
“I still don’t understand why you wouldn’t just choose to have a girlfriend if you could.”
“It’s about the person, not what I can do with them.” I take his hand, linking my fingers with his. “It’s not my choice. No more than it is for you.”
I can tell he doesn’t like what I’ve just said. “But you think you might tell more people one day? Like if you ended up with a guy, would you . . . be out?”
“Everyone would know if you came to prom with me.”
Sebastian looks horrified. “What?”
My smile feels wobbly at the edges. I hadn’t actually meant to say that, but I hadn’t not meant to either. “What would you say if I asked?”
Conflict crashes across his features. “I mean. I . . . couldn’t.”
A tiny bit of hope deflates in my chest, but I’m not surprised. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “I mean, of course I would take you, but I didn’t expect you to say yes. I’m not even sure I’d be a hundred percent ready yet.”
“Are you going to go?”
Turning my face back up to the sky, I tell him, “Maybe with Autumn if she bails on Eric. We’re sort of default plus-ones. She wants me to ask Sasha.”
“Sasha?”
I wave my hand like Not worth explaining.
“Were you ever with Autumn?” he asks.
“We made out once. It wasn’t magical.”
“For you, or for her?”
Grinning, I look back at him. “For me. I don’t know how it was for her.”
His gaze slides across my face, landing on my lips. “I think she’s in love with you.”
I don’t want to talk about Autumn right now. “Are you?”
At first I can tell he doesn’t know what I mean. A tiny line forms between his brows, marring the smooth landscape of his forehead.
But then it clears. His eyes widen.
Later, I’ll look back on this and wonder whether he kisses me right now because he doesn’t want to answer, or whether his answer was so obvious he had to kiss me. But in the moment when he leans forward, rolling over me, his mouth hot and familiar on mine, emotion becomes a liquid; an ocean fills my chest.
I find the true impossibility in writing when I think back on this moment right here, when he’s touching me and his palms are branding me, his fingertips tiny spots of heat on my skin. I want to capture it somehow, not only so I’ll remember, but so that I can explain. There’s almost no way to put into words that frantic transition, the deranged tangle we become, except to think of it like a wave on a beach, the physical force of water unstoppable.
The only thing I’m sure of in the moment his touch goes from exploratory, to determined, to purposeful, and his eyes hold steady on my face, full of thrill as I fall, is we are both thinking how good this is, how right. This moment, and the quieter moments afterward, can’t be edited. They can’t be rewritten. They can’t be erased.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Dad is still up when I get home, mug of tea in his hand, and the you’re-cutting-it-a-bit-close-for-curfew frown weighing down his features.
I feel the curl of apology begin to tug down the edges of my smile, but no, this smile is bulletproof. I am in an echo chamber and Sebastian’s touch is reverberating all around me.
Dad’s brows twitch, like he’s puzzling out my grin. “Autumn?” he asks, but sounds unsure. He knows I don’t look like this when I’ve been hanging out with Autumn. Or anyone.
“Sebastian.”
His mouth makes the Ahh shape, and he nods again and again as his eyes move across my face. “You’re being safe?”
Oh my God.
The smile wobbles under the weight of my mortification. “Dad.”
“It’s a legitimate question.”
“We’re not . . .” I turn to the fridge, opening it to grab a Coke. Warring images flash through my thoughts: Sebastian on top of me, over me. Dad sitting here, eyes tight and invested. “You know Mom would murder you for that, for your semi-unintentional blessing that I deflower the bishop’s son.”
“Tanner.” I can’t tell if he wants to laugh or smack me. To be honest, I don’t think he knows either.
“I’m kidding. We’re not there yet.”
Dad puts his mug down, and the ceramic scrapes across the countertop. “Tann, eventually you might be. I just want to know you’re being careful.”
The top to my soda cracks open with a satisfying hiss. “I promise I won’t get him pregnant.”
His eyes roll skyward, and Mom chooses this exact moment to walk in, stopping short just inside the doorway.
“What?” Her voice is flat, eyes wide. I take a moment to appreciate that she’s wearing a nightgown that says LIFE GOES BY TOO QUICKLY, with rainbow-colored words highlighting the LGBTQ acronym.
Dad laughs. “No, Jenna. He was out with Sebastian, but it’s not what you think.”
She looks between us, brows furrowed. “And what do I think?”
“That he and Sebastian are . . . serious.”
I blink over to Dad. “Hey. We are serious.”
“Serious as in love?” Mom asks. “Or serious as in sex?”
I groan. “Which would be a bigger problem?”
“Neither would be a problem, Tann,” Dad says carefully, eyes on Mom.
Based on this silent exchange, I’m convinced my parents spend more time talking about me dating the bishop’s son than they do talking about everything else combined right now.
“You’re lucky, you know,” I tell them, walking over to envelop my mom in an enormous hug. She melts into me, wrapping her arms around my waist.
“How’s that?” she asks.
“I’ve never freaked you guys out before.”
Dad laughs. “You’ve given us a few heart attacks, Tanner. Don’t kid yourself.”
“But this one seems to really have thrown you.”
His expression sobers. “I think this has been harder for your mom than she’s let on.” Mom makes a noise of agreement into my chest. “It’s brought up a log of feelings, a lot of anger. Probably some sadness, too. She wants to protect you from all that.”
My ribs seem to grow too tight around my lungs, and I squeeze her tighter. “I know.”
Her words come out muffled. “We love you so much, kiddo. We want you in a more progressive place.”
“As in, as soon as I get my college acceptance letters, I should run and never, ever look back,” I say with a grin.
Mom nods against me. “I’m praying for UCLA.”
Dad laughs. “Just be safe, okay? Be careful?”
I know he isn’t just talking about the physical stuff. I walk over to him next, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Will you quit worrying about me? I’m fine. I really like Sebastian, but I’m not unaware of the complications.”
Mom shuffles over to the fridge to get a snack. “So, putting aside his parents
and their feelings, you know he could be kicked out of school for just being with you tonight? The church might be more accepting than when I was growing up, but you’re aware the BYU honor code doesn’t allow him to do whatever it is that you did tonight?”
“Mom, when does it get to just be this exciting thing I have?” I swear, the last thing I want to do right now is analyze every little bit of how this could go wrong. I do enough of that all day long anyway. “The problem isn’t with Sebastian and me; it’s with the rules.”
She looks over her shoulder at me, frowning. Dad jumps in. “I get what you’re saying, but it isn’t that simple. You don’t get to say just because the rules are wrong that you can do whatever you want.”
My high over Sebastian’s touch, over what we did, starts to fade, and I want to get out of the room as fast as I can. It sucks feeling this way with my parents. I like that I tell them everything. I like that they know me so well. But every time we talk about this, their concern becomes this dark shadow that slides in front of the light. It eclipses everything.
So I don’t reply. The more I argue, the more they’ll calmly reason. Dad sighs before giving me a small smile and lifting his chin like Go. Like he can see I need to escape and pour this night out somewhere.
I kiss Mom, and then run upstairs to my room. The words are bursting out of my head, my hands. Everything that happened, everything I feel pours out of me, liquid relief.
When the words are gone but the feeling still fills my chest—of seeing Sebastian collapse back on the hood of my car, wearing that lazy revelation of a grin—I pick up my Post-it pad and climb into bed.
WE SPENT THE AFTERNOON BUILDING
“FOR SERVICE,” HE SAID.
NEW PIECES, NEW PLACES, NEW PARTS
TO BE PUT THERE AND TAKEN FOR GRANTED.
BUT IT FELT GOOD, AND I TOLD HIM THAT.
HE RESTED A PLANK ON HIS SHOULDER
LIKE A BAYONET.
AND I NEARLY LAUGHED, THINKING,
IS THIS WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO FALL IN LOVE
WITH A SOLDIER ON THE OTHER SIDE?
I close my eyes.
• • •
I should probably have predicted this. After Saturday night, I should have known that things would be awkward in class on Monday, because in between those two days was a whole lot of time back at church.
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