You, Me, and Henry Rollins

My parents are waiting for me when I get home; both of them are in the kitchen, my mom on one side of the island, my dad on the other. Mom has her arms folded over her chest and what looks like a pint of Ben and Jerry's in front of her. Clearly she's given up on her diet (again).

"Eli," my dad calls out, before I have a chance to dash upstairs to shower and change. His face is stiff, as if he’s not sure what exactly is going on, much less how to discipline me for it. I slink into the kitchen, aware that I probably smell like sex, and all my clothes are wrinkled. Mom comes over to straighten my shirt, clucking her tongue. I hate when she gets all domestic on me. Mostly because I know it’s not going to last. She goes from indifferent to over-involved in twenty-four hours sometimes.

"Yeah?" I'm aware that I sound like a squeaky little girl, but it doesn’t bother me as much as I expect.

He looks at Mom, who looks away from him pointedly. "Well, we’re just concerned about you, Eli. You haven’t been coming to meals, you forgot to pick up your sister yesterday—"

"Oh shit!"

"Oh shit is the appropriate response," Dad says dryly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re lucky she thought to borrow a phone from someone’s mother to call me."

"I’m really sorry!" I can’t believe I forgot her. It’s not like me. I may be a complete klutz, but I sort of pride myself on being reliable. And I totally forgot my little sister. Shit.

Dad sighs. "I know you are, and there’s no point in disciplining you when clearly there are larger issues at hand." He puts his hands down on the counter. "Like I said, we're concerned. We want you to know that you can talk to us."

"I won’t forget again," I promise.

Dad shakes his head. "Of course you won't. We trust you. But we’re not talking about that anymore. We’re talking about the fact that you didn’t spend the night here on Friday, and you haven’t eaten with the family in over a week. We’d like some reassurances that you’re not... in trouble, or need help."

I squirm. "I’m just... having difficulties, I guess. A lot of stuff has come up. Personal stuff." I immediately think of Carl, slamming the door and glaring at us through the glass at the pool.
They look at each other with significant glances. I hate those looks, but I suppose I should be grateful they’re having them. I guess not all parents care enough.

"Thank you for telling us that," Dad says gravely, nodding his head. "Do you feel comfortable elaborating?" I wonder where he learned the shrink talk.

I shake my head. No. N-O.

"Would you rather talk to a therapist?" Mom suggests, her eyebrows disappearing into her hair. "We can set up an appointment—"

"I’d rather not do that either," I say, still squirming. "I can work this out on my own."

"You don’t have to," Dad says gently. "Talking helps things, you know."

I know. I just don’t think I’m ready to tell them all the things I probably should have been telling them all along. I know they’re liberal, and they love me. I know neither of them will give a shit about me being gay and all that. I know that they’re not the types to throw me out of the house for something as irrelevant as sexual orientation. But I still can’t bring myself to say it to them.

"I’ll be fine," I promise. "I just need some time."

---

Friday, after school, Carl is waiting for me outside Naan Stop, just as he promised. He’s wearing these big Wayfarer sunglasses that remind me of something from out of a surfing film. His hair is all mussed, and I wonder why he invited me out here. We haven’t talked in two weeks. I mean, it’s just as much my fault as his, but I just... I can’t. I’m sure he knows that Adrian and I are together (or whatever); after all, he saw our entwined hands at the pool. I guess he knows I’m gay now, but that doesn’t seem to be the problem. I suppose, belatedly, that if I could have told anyone, I could have told Carl. Fuck, he probably always knew.

He’s got a carry-out container of Tandoori Chicken and daal, my favourite. He hands it to me, and motions for me to get in his car. I can see Adrian across the street in his Jetta, watching us. I climb into the passenger seat, and watch as Carl goes around the car to get into his side. He flicks Adrian off as he gets in, and I roll my eyes.

"What the fuck, Carl?" I ask, not pissed so much as annoyed. If he likes Adrian, that’s fine. I mean, he’s not gay, but that’s what it seems like sometimes. Fuck, I just wish he’d tell me something.

"Nothing," he growls, slamming the emergency break with his foot. "Let’s just go."

He guns off down the street, and I nearly dump Tandoori chicken in my lap. But I know it’s not a good time to bitch any more, so I settle down and eat my food, watching him drive. His jaw works, the sound of grinding teeth filling the silent car.

"I’m just... I’m just not happy you’re hanging around with Adrian." He smacks the driving wheel with his palm, and I pull back, startled. "Sorry," he says, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he actually seems sorry.

"I don’t understand," I say, keeping my voice low. "I mean, you know that we’re..." I’m flustered. "Well, you know."

"Yes, I know. And that’s why I’m not happy."

"Carl," I say, trying not to cry like a fucking baby. This hurts more than I expected. "I’m the happiest I’ve been in forever. Why do you keep trying to ruin that?"

He look so sad that I forget my own pain for a moment. "Eli, I’m not upset you’re gay. Don’t be stupid. And I’m not trying to ruin anything. Adrian’s just not what he seems like. He’s not the guy he says he is. He’s not a good person. I’m his cousin, I should know." He shakes his head. "Fuck. I just think you should stay away from him. Find someone else. Find someone nice."

"Adrian’s nice..." I’m also intensely relieved that he’s actually said the G-word aloud, and not flinched or anything. Like he really is actually okay with it or something.

"For now." Carl’s mouth is set in such a grim line I’m not sure what to do. Obviously I’ve known Carl longer, and I trust him implicitly (usually), but his motives are unclear. What does he want out of this? To protect me? For a moment I think wildly that maybe he might really like me as more than a friend, and that’s why he wants to get rid of Adrian and he’s okay with the whole gay thing, but then I notice a picture of Ellen stuck in the dashboard and all hope of that gutters and dies.

I set my jaw stubbornly. "Carl, you’re my best friend, but you can’t tell me who to... hang out with. That’s my business."

"I’m warning you, Eli. Adrian is not a nice guy. He’s a complete douche."

"What’s he done?"

"It’s not my place to tell." He looks away. "Well, remember what happened to Luke? Remember Johnny Smith?"

How could I forget? My silence is an affirmative.

"Yeah, well, Adrian’s like Johnny. Only worse... He, he ruined some kid at his old school. Positively ruined him."

I can’t imagine how anybody would be worse than Johnny Smith.

Luke, I guess you could say, was my first love. Besides Carl, of course. Like Carl, Luke was my buddy from pre-school. Our mothers met at a sing-along thing at the library, and shoved us kids together so they could make scrap books and sing Andrew Lloyd Webber. Luke and I hit it off immediately, and Mom always likes to say that Luke was the first person I would share my toys with. Not even Carl was good enough for that honour before Luke.

So we grew up together, and we were like, I don’t knew, the Three Musketeers or something. Only we sniffed glue and beat each other up, all in good fun, of course.

I guess, Luke was the first boy I ever kissed. It was sort of an accident. We were in the pool. Carl pushed me, and I collided with Luke and we both sort of smooshed together. Of course we both withdrew quickly, wiping our mouths with the backs of our hands, and staring at the water.

And then the next day, he kissed me again. Only this time, Carl wasn’t around, and he lingered. And of course, I kissed him back.

We never got beyond kissing. I guess pretty hard core kissing, now that I think about it. And I really liked him. Loved him, probably. But I guess it wasn’t meant to be, because about three months after we started hooking up, he and Johnny Smith started doing the same thing. And then when someone, we still don’t know who, walked in on Luke and Johnny kissing, Johnny immediately pushed Luke away and told everyone that Luke had been trying to rape him.

A couple weeks later, Luke left our high school. He’s going to a private boarding school in the mountains. He hasn’t talked to me since the incident. Probably because I didn’t come out, didn’t say anything to anyone. I don’t think he blames me, but I could have made it easier on him. Instead of telling him that I couldn’t hang out with him. I guess I was more concerned about my reputation than about Luke. I’m still mad at myself about that. I remember what Tom said when he found out, and I wonder if I was justified in protecting myself. Probably.

I think about Johnny Smith, and how Carl says that Adrian’s like him.

"But Adrian... Adrian was holding my hand that night." I know I sound like a kicked puppy. "He... he didn’t seem to care."

Carl shakes his head. "Just believe me, please. He’s trouble. He’s going to run all over you and spit you out and run over you again."

"What do you care?" I ask, sounding bitter.

"Do you really have to ask that?" he gripes, sounding mad. I look at him. Yeah, he’s mad. His hands are shaking. He signals, pulls over, turns the car off. Looks at me with such intensity I’m afraid my bones are going to melt. He grabs me by the back of the neck.

And pulls me into the deepest kiss I’ve ever had.

---

I’m walking down Cathedral Oakes, my hands shoved into the pockets of my hoodie. Is everyone gay now? I went so many years, so fucking lonely, until Luke came along and showed me that it was okay to love a boy. Of course neither of us had wanted to admit that we were gay. We were okay admitting we liked each other, but only each other. And then of course he kissed Johnny Smith, and I betrayed him, mostly because he’d betrayed me. And now Carl? What the fuck?

I am still surprised by how quickly I got out of his car and practically ran down the street, leaving behind my chicken and daal, listening to him call my name, practically a sob.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I mutter under my breath. How could this be happening? I’d loved Carl as long as I’d loved Luke. And it’d taken Adrian, oh stupid Adrian, to come along and make Carl realise that he loved me?

I stop in front of Teddy’s house. It’s an old imitation plantation house, with big columns out front, and ivy creeping up the front of the marble façade. It’s possibly the most ostentatious house in the neighbourhood, but Teddy’s dad is a CEO and he likes everyone to know that he has money and earned it. It’s a point of disagreement between Teddy and his dad. Occasionally they’ll have a fight, and Teddy will refuse his dad’s money, calling it blood money and stuff like that, and his dad will turn puce and threaten to throw him out. Of course, neither of them follow through with their threats.

I ring the doorbell. His mom comes to the door, seems surprised that I’m there.

"Hi, canItalktoTeddy?"

"Teddy? Uh, sure." She motions me to come in. I run up the big staircase to the second floor, and then clatter down the hall to his bedroom on the west side of the house. He’s on his bed, headphones on, listening to something. I pull his headphones off.

"Teddy! I’m in trouble," I say, panicked. He pulls me onto the bed, shucking my shoes.

"What’s wrong? Do you need me to bury anything? Any blood on your clothing? Did you leave fingerprints?" He’s so serious looking that I let out a bark of a laugh.

"No, no, not that kind of trouble. Other kinds of trouble."

He relaxes considerably. "Well, if you stole something—"

"No, not that kind of trouble either. I’m in love with someone, but seeing someone else at the same time. What do I do?"

"Well, date the one you love," he replies patiently.

"It’s not that simple!" I say. "I like the one I’m dating, and I don’t want to hurt their feelings, but the one I love says that the one I’m dating is a... bitch, and that I’m better off without them. But I can’t just break off the relationship with the... uh, bitch, because I don’t know if they’re really a bitch—"

"No, really, Eli. You’re making a big deal out of nothing." Teddy rolls his eyes. "Leave it to you to make a mountain out of a mole hill. Look, you love one of them, but not the other, right?" I nod. "Well, then date the one you love. Everything else is miniscule by comparison."

And, of course, he’s right. But it’s still not that simple. Like, which one do I love? Do I even love Carl? Or do I just love the idea of being in love with him? And what about Adrian? I don’t know him well enough to know if he’s really as much of an ass as Carl makes him out to be. Why did life get so complicated?

---

I eat dinner at home. My mom and dad seem happy to see me, but Abby is determined to make me feel completely guilty about forgetting to her.

"So what were you doing while I was waiting at school?" she demands. "Were you off with your... Uh..." She looks away, realising that even in her anger, she can’t betray me. "Your friends?" she substitutes weakly.

"Yeah." I give her a look, which she acknowledges. And then she pretends to play with her peas, as if her whole little outburst hadn’t happened. Dad seems relieved, and Mom just throws another piece of chicken on his plate.

"More chicken?" she asks me.

---

Adrian picks me up from my house. I’m not very good at pretending nothing’s wrong, I’ve noticed. I’m the kind of person who just can’t lie very well. I’m not even lying yet and I’m already freaking out... That’s just the way I am, I guess. But it makes loving people very hard, I can tell you that.

And of course, since he’s not a complete fucktard, he knows something’s up.

"What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," I say instinctively. He snorts. Damn it. Life would be so much easier if I could just act like everything was fine.

"Right." He grins and elbows me. "Let me ask that again: what’s wrong?"

He has the tact of a rhino, I realise, a bit sourly. "I guess, I don’t know how to talk to you about it." I shrug and play with the hem of my shirt, which has a bit of a milk stain.

He turns down his street and parks in front of his house. Neither of us make any move to get out of his car. "Can I help?"

I turn to him, biting my lip. "Do you think we can... go to the movies or something? Like on a real date?"

He looks a little amused. "And that will make you stop sulking like someone ate your cat?"

I am indignant. "I don’t sulk!"

He guffaws and motions for me to get out of the car. I climb out, reluctantly. He follows me up to the house and lets us both in. I realise as we head down the corridor to his bedroom that I’ve never met his parents once. And why the hell is he living with his older brother? Besides the point. I’ll ask later.

"So, you want to go to the movies?" he asks.

"No, yes, well... Not the movies necessarily, but something date-ish. You know, like everyone else." I squirm. He sits down on the bed, and reaches out to me. I plop down in his lap. He rests his chin on my shoulder.

"So, when we do this date-ish kind of thing, you wanna hold hands and stuff?"

"No, but... I guess if we’re in the movies, and it’s dark, I kinda wanna kiss you like everyone else does. You know? We don’t have to be obvious about it... But..."

"But you wanna feel like a couple."

"Yeah..."

He nods, clearly listening. I have to admit, that’s one of the things I like best about him. He listens. And he doesn’t always understand, or even claim to care, but he still listens. The only other people I ever trusted to do that are Luke and Carl. "Eli, are you sure you’re ready for that? I mean, you can’t even say you’re gay yet."

"I can say it..." I protest.

"Uh, no you can’t, sweetie." He kisses my neck. I don’t get the whole sweetie thing, but I like it. "You can call me gay, you can call everyone else gay, but as soon as you think about saying I am gay, you get this funny constipated expression."

"Is it necessary?" I whine. "I’m just not ready... Like, I understand that I am, but saying it makes it feel like it’s so final."

Adrian snorts. "Eli, it is final."

"Yeah, I know... But this is all beside the point."

"Okay," he says, all exaggerated-like. "I’ll take you out to dinner and a movie, okay?" He musses me hair, and pushes me off his lap and onto the bed. Pins me to the mattress. "And I’ll hold your hand if you want me to."

And then he’s slipping his hand down my pants and pretty much all thoughts of anything else are rather fleeting.

---

We’re in the movie theatre, at the back of course, like all the couples, and he’s holding my hand. His palm is cool and comforting, and he’s been passing me popcorn for the entire time. On one hand I enjoy being cosseted, but it is kind of odd that he automatically assumes I want to be babied and whatever. I mean, it’s nice occasionally, but now that we’ve been dating (or whatever) for a couple weeks, it’s getting a little frustrating. I’ll try and bring it up another day, because we haven’t fought yet, and I don’t want us to fight over something as silly as him calling me baby, although I honestly don’t mind that much.

He pokes me gently. I look over. He grabs my chin, kind of rough like, and I almost lurch back in surprise, when he plants a big fat kiss on my mouth, and I’m like woahhhh. And pretty much, I want to kiss him forever.

When we get out of the theatre there’s a message waiting for me. From Carl. He’s called me at least three times every day since we last talked. Which was when he kissed me. And I ran away. I still haven’t called him back. I guess I’m just not ready for that conversation. But I know that if I don’t call him soon I won’t even have a friendship with him, much less a future relationship that’s more than friendship.

"You have that funny constipated look again, babe," Adrian notes, taking our enormous soda from me and taking a sip. "What’s up?"

"Just Carl." I wave my phone around, flip it shut, and shove it back in my pocket.

"Ignoring him?" I’m surprised that he doesn’t look as please as I expect him to be.

I feel like I’ve committed some kind of crime. "Uhmm... yeah."

"Why?"

I squirm some more. He gets an aha expression on his face.

"Ohhh. So he told you?"

"How did you know?" I’m a little annoyed. I thought that I could have just never mentioned it to him, and just got over it without ever having to tell him.

Adrian rolls his eyes. "A dead hippo would have noticed. He’s been in love with you since forever."

I stare at him. "Forever?" I squeak after a moment. He drapes an arm over my shoulder.

"Oh yeah, forever." He grins and kisses me on the cheek. I manage not to freak out, although we are in public, and there are small children around, as well as a set of fugly red necks who could beat the crap out of our skinny punk asses. "He’s been in love with you since he knew what love was. You, of course, have been too firmly ensconced in your well decorated closet to realise it."

"Ensconced?"

"You know, barricaded in. Protecting oneself."

"I don’t think that’s the official definition."

"Well, that’s what I meant it as," he replies dryly, kissing me again, this time on the lips. "And finally, I was like ‘Yo, Carl. You moving in on that hot piece of ass you call your best friend?’ And of course, Carl was like, ‘Get your fucking mitts off my man.’ We had an awesome all and out fight, and we haven’t been talking much lately. But he’ll come around. So, let me guess, he tried to convince you that I’m a horrible person?"

"Uh, yes." For a quick moment I love Adrian so much it hurts.

"Yeah, well, some of its true."

I blanch. "What?"

"Yeah, well, I did some shit I’m not proud of." He pulls me toward a bench. He sits and then I settle in his lap. It’s weird, I know, but I like his solidness. He’s a skinny guy, but for some reason, he feels like he’s got more weight. Maybe he’s got more muscle than me, but in a fight, I’m sure he could protect me. Makes me feel all fuzzy inside. Which you did not just hear.

"What did you do?"

"Well, my first boyfriend and I got caught kissing in a broom closet—"

"Classy."

He grins. "Yes, well, it was convenient, ironic, and neither of us thought that the school bully would decide he needed to clean his locker just then... And of course, since I was such a ball-less twerp, I socked Rory and told everyone that he’d pinned me and shoved me in there. Everyone was pretty smart, so they figured that wasn’t the situation. They were all good people, so they took Rory’s side."

"Oh."

"Yeah. It sucked. I was stupid." He shrugs. "So I lost Rory, and a bunch of friends. I moved out here, to be with family, and decided that hiding wasn’t worth it. Took me a while to come out, of course, it wasn’t an overnight process. Anyone who tells you it is is full of shit. But I try not to worry about it. If anyone asks, I tell the truth. And I’ve openly dated a few guys."

"Yeah?"

"Well, yeah. If they’re okay with that. I mean, you, I obviously haven’t told anyone your name, because you wouldn’t be cool with that. Little steps, you know? Like, you haven’t even mentioned that you’re sitting in my lap and we’re in public..."

I look around. No one seems to have noticed. "Yeah, well maybe they think we’re a really affectionate bunch of straight guys."

"Uh huh," he says, pressing his nose into my neck. "Sure. Think that if it makes you feel better." I sock him affectionately.

"Well, uhm, thanks for telling me all that. It was kind of bothering me."

"So, you had me take you out on a date, to make sure I behaved in public?" He grins. I’m really glad suddenly that he’s so easy going. "Did I do good?"

"You did good," I say, squeezing his arm. I pause, and then run my finger down his bicep. "So, do you mind telling me, did you, like, come out to your parents?"

He pauses for a second, and his stiff expression tells me I shouldn’t have asked. "Yeah..."

"You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want," I volunteer quickly, not wanting to hurt him.

"No, it’s okay." He shrugs. "I guess I have to talk about it eventually." He sticks a finger into the hole in the knee of my jeans. His fingers are cool. "They weren’t happy about it. But they didn’t kick me out, if that’s what you’re worried about. They love me. They were more worried that I’d get lynched than actually have a problem with the gay part. But they can be insensitive about it."

I’m silent for a moment. "I... I want to tell my parents. And my friends. About me." I amend, "Well, about us." He smiles and buries his nose in the crook of my neck.

"Yeah? You think you’re ready?"

I shrug. "Uh, I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready."

He shrugs in return. "Yeah. I meant more, do you think you’ll be calm enough to tell them without making them assume you’re flipping out about it?"

"I kind of am flipping out about it," I say.

"Then maybe you’re not ready."

I play with his hair a bit. "I don’t know. We’ll see. But I can’t imagine not telling them."

He kisses my neck. "Whatever you want, babe. Now let’s go back to my place and fuck like bunnies."

---

I should say that he was kidding about the fucking like bunnies part. Obviously, I’m nowhere near ready to go that far. I mean, really? Like Adrian says, I can’t even say the three words I am gay, much less take it up the ass. Which is fine, because there are plenty of other things to do. Like, magical blow jobs. And frotting, which I like a lot. And all kinds of things. But anyhow, I like to think that I’m becoming more comfortable with my sexuality, and if that means I’m going to make weird-ass jokes about bunnies fucking, then well, it’s just my way of dealing with things, you know?

Sometimes, when it feels like we’re moving too fast emotionally, I put up a red flag. Usually by sulking. I don’t know how he knows, but he does, and he stops whatever is upsetting me, and sits me down, and we talk about it.

I don’t think I’ve ever talked with anyone before. Not like that, at least. Luke and I never talked about what we were doing. It was more of a silent understanding that we liked each other, and wanted to kiss each other, and maybe that made us, well, gay, but we weren’t going to talk about it or think about it. And I guess that’s why things went so spectacularly wrong. But I’m not worried about that happening with me and Adrian. Because he’ll make me talk about it before I run away and stick my head in the sand like an ostrich.

Now that we’ve been dating for a whole month (I know, crazy, huh?) he thinks I should call Carl. To figure things out.

"Wait, you mean, you want me to—"

"I would hope that you really do like me, and haven’t just been screwing around with me," he says with a grin that belies how he’s actually feeling. I can see his hands shaking. He’s worried. "And I obviously have faith you’ll choose me, but you should work things out with him. Friendships like that are hard to lose."

"Uh, don’t worry," I say, grabbing his hands impulsively. I’m amazed he’s even giving me the choice. I don’t think Carl would. Carl wouldn’t even let me go talk to him. "I’m not going to get together with him. I like you... I mean, I did like him, and he’s great and all, but, I’m with you, and I like you... And—"

"I get it," he says, noticing that I’m getting my usual consternated expression. "Don’t think so much."

"Uh yeah." I laugh nervously. "I’m just worried he’s going to try and kiss me again—"

"He WHAT?"

Oh shit. "Oh, uhm, yeah, well, you remember that time he like told me about you and stuff? Yeah, well he kissed me, and—"

"I’ll kill that shit!" He’s way angrier than I ever expected him to be. He’s got that crazy look in his eyes like he’s going to to go shoot something. Well, he wouldn’t shoot anything. He doesn’t even own a gun, much less know how to use one.

Yeah, well, I should mention that things aren’t all peaches and cream with Adrian. He’s got some anger issues. Like, not at me, usually, but other people. He gives other guys glares, as if they’re going to steal me. I’m constantly reminding him that those guys are straight, and are definitely not trying to get in my pants. But he’s never hurt me, or even threatened to hurt me, even when he’s like super mad because I’ve been doing something stupid.

"Uhm, please don’t kill him," I pipe up, putting my hands on his shoulders. "Not that big of a deal, really. I didn’t kiss him back."

"I know, I know," he says, grabbing me into a tight hug. "I trust you. I don’t trust him though. That little shit." He shakes his head, fuming.

"Adrian? I’m kind of being squeezed to death here..."

He releases me, and then pulls us both onto the park bench. "Sorry." He has the grace to look sheepish. "I’m just—"

"Super overprotective," I supply, not very helpfully. He blushes blotchy red.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry."

"Yeah, well, I know you’re sorry. But I can take care of myself, you know..." I ruffle his hair. "Besides, I would think it’s fairly evident that I chose you. Don’t really know why," I tease.

He snorts and then looks up at me, blush fading slowly. "Like I said, I trust you. I don’t trust him though. And what if he does something..."

"Like steal my honour? Besmirch my virtue?" It’s my turn to snort. "Please, Adrian. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself." He nods.

"You can. I know. I can’t help but worry though. Carl won’t physically hurt you... I just don’t want him to say something that either of you regret. Like, giving you an ultimatum. In my opinion, that’s just as bad as if he out and and out socks you."

"I know," I say, glumly. Carl’s definitely the type to make people chose.

---

Carl meets me at the park. The park is my spot with Adrian. So, it’s weird to bring him here. I deliberately don’t take him to our bench. Mostly because that is my favourite make out spot of all time, and if things go badly here, I don’t want that bench to become a reminder of The Carl Fiasco.

We don’t talk until we’re sitting down. And we haven’t talked in like, a week. Which is forever, for us. Even when I didn’t know that he liked me, and all that, we were talking. Agreed, it was sort of stiff and ridiculous, but at least we were talking.

"So, uhm," he says. "Yeah."

"Uhm, yeah. So, about Adrian and me."

He looks at me, look hopeful. Fuck. I don’t want to hurt his feelings, but whatever I’ve got with Adrian’s really important, and I know if I don’t break it off with Carl now, I could mess things up with Adrian. Unlikely, because Adrian has proven himself to be pretty cool with me being friends with Carl. He’s even allowing me to make a choice between them. The answer is blindingly obvious now.

"Yeah?" Carl sounds a little tense, breathless almost.

"I really like him, Carl," I admit, and I wish that I didn’t have to sound so miserable. Like, I really really like Adrian. I should be happy about it, and instead, for Carl’s sake, I have to pretend that I’m completely crushed that I’m in love with Adrian. "Like, I really really like him," I clarify. "As in, fucking head over heels."

Carl sits back on the bench, looking at his hands. "Oh."

"Uh, yeah." I scoot away. "I’m sorry... But you never even let me know you were interested in guys! I would have... You know I would’ve."

He shrugs. "Well it’s just my luck, you know? My cousin moves into town, steals the guy of my dreams, and I’m stuck with nothing."

"Steals?" I snort. I’m a little more than angry now. "Steals? Please. I’m not something that can be stolen. I made a choice. And you made yours. You can get over it, and we can be friends."

He glares at me. "Like you gave me any signs. This is a two-way street, Eli. If you had let me know that you were interested then we wouldn’t even be in this situation."

"You’re right, to an extent," I say. "Like, you assume that I liked you enough to give up our friendship in favour of a romantic relationship. And that was never true. Ever."

He slumps slightly, and then looks at me. Definitely less hostile. "Yeah, I see what you mean." He looks at the ground, shifting slightly. He sighs, this big dramatic thing that makes me want to sock him. As if he’s the only one suffering. He rubs his face. "I was ready to say ‘it’s me or him’ kind of thing. But that’s not fair. I don’t want that."

"Uh, good."

He smirks. "Besides, you would have chosen me."

I glare at him.

"Just kidding," he laughs. "I know you wouldn’t have... I mean, you would have like... Chosen nothing. You’re that kind of guy. You’d be like ‘Fuck you both’ and ran off to find someone else. And Adrian and I would both be a mess." He shrugs, holding his hands out, as if in supplication. "I need time. Obviously. But we’ll always be friends. Right?"

I hug him, impulsively. "Yeah. Always. Whenever you’re ready, come get me. We’ll go get lentils."

---

Adrian is waiting for me back at his house, probably wearing the floorboards thin. I walk in, throw my bag into a corner and jump on him.

"Went well?"

"Uhm, yeah." I breath into his neck, almost hyperventilating. "He was an ass at first."

"Big surprise," he snorts, picking me up.

"And then things got better. I sassed him out." I wrap my legs around his hips and squeeze him. "So he’s going to take some time. To get over all this. And then we’ll be friends again."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good job," he says, kissing my temple. "Proud of you."

And surprisingly enough, I’m proud of myself too.

---