Riding with Brighton

by Haven Francis

  “And that’s how our conversations always go—weird random shit just comes out of my mouth without me thinking about it, and it dawned on me last night before I called you that those are the conversations you should be having. The ones where you don’t have to think, the ones that have no real purpose, the kind where you are just comfortable being yourself. And then I realized, you’re the only person who I talk to like that. And that talking to you, not your looks or your attitude or your level of awesomeness, is the reason American history was the highlight of my life.”

  “That’s awesome,” Shaw says.

  “That is pretty awesome,” Brighton agrees.

  “But wait… there’s more,” I inform the table, and Nico and Molly both moan in protest.

  I turn back to Brighton. “The weird thing was, Molly’s right; I didn’t know anything about you. We’ve spent hours talking, and yet… I knew nothing. You never told me anything about your life. It bothered me at first because how can you really like someone if you don’t know anything about them? But then I realized that I did. I mean, I didn’t know what your favorite color is…. still don’t actually…?”

  “Blue,” Brighton tells me. “What about you?”

  “Green.”

  He nods.

  “So I had no facts about your life but really, I knew you. I got how your mind works. I totally understood your sense of humor. I had a pretty good grasp on how you see the world. Most of the time I could predict what was gonna come out of your mouth—at least when you were making small talk with other people, or flirting with girls. But when you talked to me, the words that came out of your mouth were almost always surprising. And I lived for it. I lived for what you were gonna say next. And suddenly it all made sense. For someone who’s never had a real relationship, I suddenly had a very clear view of what I was looking for.”

  “Which is?” Molly asks and I smile because… well, she cares.

  “Someone who I totally understand yet manages to surprise me every single day. Someone who opens my eyes and makes me think. Someone who can make me feel excited and inspired every day of my life simply by saying words…. And then today happened.”

  “God, I’m never gonna fall in love. Is that really what it’s like because, if so, where the hell am I gonna find that?” Nico says.

  “It’s kind of like that,” Molly agrees bitterly.

  “You’re totally gonna find it,” Shaw tells him.

  I hear them, but I’m staring at Brighton. His eyes specifically because they look all dreamy and happy and sexy. “The reason I didn’t tell you anything was because you scared me,” he whispers, reaching up to drag his fingers down my neck before dropping his hand and pressing his fingers against mine. “That class was the best hour of my day because I liked talking to you, but mostly I just liked watching you. You’re fascinating to watch, Jay.”

  My face tells him that’s doubtful.

  “Seriously. You have an expressive face.”

  “Ugh, gag me,” Molly complains.

  “Shh,” Shaw tells her.

  Brighton and I just stare at each other.

  “Your half smile means you’re pissed that I made you smile because you really don’t want to. Your closed mouth smile means you’re not sure how you feel about what I just said. My favorite is the one where you lean your mouth into your hand because it means I made you smile really big and you’re trying to cover it up. You chew on your Bics when you’re trying to hold back words or laughter. You run your hands over the nape of your neck when you’re thinking. You run them through your hair when you’re stressed. And if you drag them over your face, it means you’re on the brink of a breakdown. You grab on to the edge of your desk or fling your leg out into the aisle because I did or said something that, I hoped, made you want to touch me. When you really want to touch me, you lean as far away from me as possible and cross your arms over your chest. At least that’s what I let myself believe sometimes. Your eyes get all crinkly when I annoy you, your eyebrows pinch together when I offend you, and you full-on cock your head back if you’re really pissed at me. Sometimes you even throw things at me.”

  “Dang, those are a lot of expressions,” Nico says and again, I’m reminded that I’m not alone with Brighton.

  “I can go on,” Brighton tells him.

  “Spare us,” Molly says.

  “So you like me?” I ask him.

  “I was totally crushing on you—which was scary because, even though it sometimes felt like there was something between us, I never really let myself believe you were anything but straight. That’s why I never told you anything about myself when you would ask. I didn’t want to go there with you because it would mean you were something other than a casual acquaintance, and I was already having enough trouble keeping the denial alive…. But then today happened.”

  I smile at him, the really big one, but I don’t cover it up with my hand. “And today you showed me everything.”

  He shrugs at me.

  “And now you totally love me.”

  “Let’s not get carried away,” he says, letting go of my hand so he can pinch my nipple.

  “And you can’t keep your hands off me.”

  “Are you testing me? Because PDA doesn’t bother me at all. I will totally lay you down on this table in front of all these truckers and….”

  “Stop,” Molly practically yells. “Please, shut the hell up. Was that your plan—make us nauseous so we would get you home ASAP?”

  For once I’m grateful for her big mouth because, I swear to God, I was ready to lie down on the table all on my own before she yanked me back into reality. I take back my hand, which somehow made it to the top of Brighton’s thigh, and grab the check off the table. “Let’s go,” I tell them, already standing and heading to the cash register.

  Chapter Twelve

  Brighton

  JAY AND I totally made out in the back of Nico’s van, which is something I’ve never done before—made out in a moving vehicle, pretending to be subtle about it so that the other passengers, one of whom has a very large mouth, aren’t offended. It was fun and it felt normal. The biggest handicap of my gay life is that I don’t have that. I’ve never really gotten to experience the whole falling for someone like a normal teenager thing. With Harrison it was always a very mature, grown-up situation. He wouldn’t have ever let me grope him in public.

  But, dang, running my hands over Jay’s tight, hard body in the back of a dark van while telling him exactly what I planned on doing with him when I got him home was definitely fun.

  Jay managed to knock down every barrier I carefully placed between us in one day. He’s completely amazing. And that little speech he made… “someone I totally get yet manages to surprise me every day….” I mean, come on, you would totally be smashing down all the walls too. He’s sweet and adorable and way more insightful that I ever gave him credit for.

  Nico drops us off, and we scramble out of the van mumbling our good-byes. In my head I already have him in my bed, but then Molly calls him back to the van.

  He looks at me like he just got called down to the principal’s office. I shrug.

  “Shit,” he mutters, leaning forward and nipping my lip before letting go of me and sulking back to the van. I walk to the front door to wait for him. If Molly had wanted me to be part of that conversation, she would have called me over too.

  She doesn’t keep him long, and when he comes back to me his expression is confused but happy. I raise my eyebrows at him expectantly.

  “She told me she thinks I’m good for you. And that she kind of likes me. And then she sort of hugged me.” He cocks his head.

  “That’s huge for her, just so you know.”

  “Then she told me she would punch me in the balls if I ever pulled some jockhole move and acted like I didn’t know you.”

  “Jockhole?”

  “Jockhole.”

  “Hmm.”

  “She was at that party tonight, right? I mean, she’s
gotta realize the jockhole ship sailed a few hours ago.”

  “She can’t be all sweet. She’s always gotta throw a little salt in.”

  “More like, she’s always gotta slash your flesh open and ground that salt in with both of her little fists.”

  “If Molly likes you, I guess that means you’re pretty irresistible,” I tell him while grabbing ahold of his face and backing him into the door so I can kiss him the way I want to, which is hard. And deep.

  Within seconds, we’re both panting and groping. But then the light above us turns on, which means someone’s coming out, which means I have to let go of Jay for the moment. I rub my sleeve across my mouth and reach for the doorknob, but Mom’s already on the other side opening it.

  “Oh good,” she says, pulling me, and then Jay, inside. “Jay’s with you.” She heads to the kitchen and hops up onto the counter. She picks up my phone and hands it to me. “What’s the point of having this thing if you’re never going to have it on you?”

  I lean against the counter, and Jay stands in front of us. “Were you trying to get ahold of me?”

  “Your mom called,” she says to Jay. “It sounded kind of urgent.”

  “Oh shit,” he mutters, his eyes going all big as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Sorry,” he mumbles to my mom.

  She waves him off, and we both look at him as he turns his phone on.

  Immediately, there is a barrage of beeps alerting him to missed calls and texts. I fight the urge to hold a protective arm in front of my face because it literally feels like we’re being attacked, and I know what kind of war Jay got himself into. I mean, the kid’s popular, but hell, no one’s that popular.

  “Fuuck,” he whispers staring at his phone. “Shit,” he says, glancing up at my mom. “I mean, crap, sorry.”

  She snickers and asks me, “What’s going on?” I look at her and she gasps, “What happened to your face?” She runs her fingers over my cheek where it’s probably red and swollen. I totally forgot all about it.

  “Jay came out at a party and, um, some of his friends didn’t appreciate it.”

  “Ah,” she says, looking between me and Jay. “It makes sense now—the call I got from your mom.”

  “Oh God,” Jay says, “if she said something rude to you—”

  “No,” my mom says, “she just had a lot of questions about Brighton and your friendship with him….”

  He mutters something and runs his hands over his face. I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his waist. He falls into me, his hands still covering his eyes. “Shit.”

  “Is it bad?” I ask.

  He leans back and drops his hands so they’re only covering his mouth. He looks like he’s in shock. Eventually, the hands move to my biceps, and he shakes his head at me. “Um, yeah. I mean, the shit on my phone is pretty much what I expected, but Tyson was there—at the party.”

  “Oh shit, your brother was there?”

  “Yeah. And he’s not cool with this.”

  “And he told your parents?”

  “Yeah. I should… call them.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I say, releasing him. “You can go in the living room if you want.”

  I don’t know if he heard me, but he opts to go sit at the table. I head back over to my mom, and we exchange worried glances. He pulls out his phone and stares at it for a while before finally letting out a long breath and dialing. “Hey,” he says and immediately his leg starts shaking.

  Since he decided to go for the nonprivacy route, I feel the need to go sit by him. I pull out a chair so I’m facing him, and then I put my hand on his knee to try and calm it. He stares right at me and, holy shit, does he look terrified.

  “I don’t know… I mean, this isn’t how I wanted it all to go down…. Yeah… it’s true.” I can hear a sob come through the phone, and Jay holds it away from his face, closing his eyes and running his free hand through his hair. I scoot my chair closer so my legs are touching his and hold on to both of his legs. It hurts to watch him right now, and I feel completely helpless. There’s nothing I can do. “I’m sorry, Mom, really. I didn’t mean for you guys to find out like this. I had no intention of saying what I did at that party. It just all came out….” There’s another audible sob, and then the muffled sound of a deeper voice. “Hey, Dad,” Jay mumbles. “Yeah, I get it…. No, I understand… I didn’t know he was there. Can I talk to him…? Yeah, no that’s fine… I know he doesn’t…. Yeah, I’m okay…. No, that’s not a problem. I’ll just see you guys tomorrow…. I love you too, and I’m sorry.”

  Jay drops his phone then so both of his hands are free to run over his face. After a minute he pulls them away. He gives me a tight smile and grabs one of my hands that are still on his legs and then looks at my mom. “I know you just met me today, but is there any way I could spend the night here? I mean, you know, on the couch.”

  She gives him a sad smile, then hops off the counter. She walks to us and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Of course you can. Stay as long as you need to.”

  “Hopefully it’ll just be the night,” he tells her.

  “They’ll come around, honey. They’re probably just a little stunned.”

  “Actually, I think that went okay. My mom’s a total hysterical mess, but my dad seemed okay. And they didn’t kick me out or anything. My little brother’s just… not taking it well, and Dad wants to give him time to settle down.”

  “I suppose that’s not easy—finding out your big brother isn’t who you thought he was. Or your son, for that matter. But you are his brother and their son, and eventually they’ll realize that’s all that matters—that you’re a family.”

  He stutters a laugh. “God, if that were actually true this would be so much easier. No offense, I know that’s how you’d feel.”

  She smiles at him and squeezes his shoulder. “You might not see it, but it’s true. They’re your parents, and you have no idea what that means, but trust me, they still love you. And eventually they’re going to see that this is part of you that they will learn to accept and love too.”

  He nods at her, but you can totally tell his head’s somewhere else. He’s staring off into space when he says, “This is huge. I mean, my parents know. This is who I am. I’m gay. Kimberly and Thomas Hall’s son is gay. This is my life. I’m a gay man.”

  I stare at him, along with my mom, and I’m not sure what to make of his statement.

  And then he smiles.

  “I’m gay.”

  I let out the breath I was holding and sit back in my chair. “Holy shit.”

  Jay shakes his head, his smile just growing bigger by the second, “Holy shhiit,” he practically cheers.

  “Yay, Jay is gay! Let’s celebrate,” Mom says. I can see her in my peripheral vision as she twirls over to the wine cooler and pulls a bottle out.

  “Yay, Jay is gay.” I laugh.

  “That would make a good T-shirt, right?”

  “Totally,” I agree.

  “Seriously.” He shakes his head. “Do you get how surreal this is? I mean, God, it’s so crazy.”

  “It’s pretty amazing.”

  “In a matter of seconds, my entire life just changed. It feels weird… and good… and seriously, I feel like a different person. Like I just grew up all of the sudden.”

  “You’re a man now, huh?”

  He smiles. “Yeah. That’s what it feels like. I’m in charge of my own life. I get to decide how I’m gonna live my life. And there’s nothing in my way.”

  “Well….”

  “Yeah, I mean, there are still things in my way, but really, let’s put it into perspective….”

  My mom walks over with three glasses of champagne and says, “I don’t support underage drinking but, you know, congratulations on being gay. Cheers.” We clink our glasses, and Jay snickers. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt… go on.”

  “I was just saying that I finally feel free, you know, in charge of my own life, and Brighton over here was trying to pu
t a damper on it by reminding me that I’m not in the clear yet. But what am I really up against? Kids calling me names at school? My friends walking away from me? My teammates not respecting me? My parents not fully supporting me? My brother wanting to stab me in the middle of the night while I’m sleeping?”

  “Um… yeah,” I say with a grunt of disbelief.

  “That’s nothing, Brighton. There are things that your never-lived-a-day-in-the-closet life didn’t let you feel. Like how bad it sucks to have to keep even your private, internal thoughts in check because if you actually think them, it means you’re a pervert who’s facing a life of eternal damnation. Or how draining it is to feel like you’re constantly lying to everyone you love about absolutely everything because the secret you’re hiding is suddenly consuming your entire life, and it feels like everything about you is a lie.” He pauses, and as his eyes connect with mine the pain I see is heartbreaking.

  “Jay—”

  He shakes his head before continuing. “And knowing that nothing you do will ever make you happy even if it is making you happy because you can’t tell if you’re really enjoying it or if you’re just pretending to enjoy it because it’s something a straight kid would enjoy. And God, it’s so depressing to look around and see kids falling in love and holding hands and kissing, knowing that you’re never gonna have that. All you can do is wonder what you’re missing out on and who you could have fallen in love with and what love feels like or, for that matter, what holding hands or kissing is supposed to feel like. Because you’re eighteen and you don’t know.

  “But most of all, it sucks to look in the mirror and realize you don’t even know the person staring back at you. That all the years you should have spent figuring out who you are were spent creating a person who’s not even real, and you hate the kid in the mirror, and you hate the kid inside of you too.”

  My hands have found Jay’s at some point while he was talking and the pressure inside my chest has grown so painful I feel like something’s going to explode. Tears fall slowly down my cheeks, and my mom is full-on blubbering like a baby and has her arms around Jay.