Chapter 6
Six
Keene
Most of the weekend passes without any sighting of Pen. The only time I managed to catch a glimpse of him before Sunday night was when I happened to get home from practice early Saturday afternoon before he retreated back to his room.
Now, if this were later in the semester, I wouldn’t be concerned.
During Hell Week—what we call the week of finals—I can go days without seeing him.
He’s either locked in his room studying or over in his studio at the Arts building across campus, finishing up whatever design project he’s been working on the entire semester.
But I know that’s not it.
He’s only giving me what he thinks I want. Space and time. Which I do…but I don’t at the same time, and it’s almost as confusing as this whole situation to begin with.
Maybe because by giving myself space, I have no way of knowing what he’s thinking or feeling. Sure, I’ve made exactly no effort to find out, since I’m still reeling from the entire situation, but the not knowing is still suffocating, nonetheless.
Fuck, I can’t really say I blame him for holing up, either. Not after the way I slammed the door in his face.
And let’s not forget, I was the one keeping a massive secret, only to drop it like an atomic bomb at what might be the worst possible moment. We’ve been best friends for two decades. Literally our entire lives…and that was how I decided to bring up my maybe attraction toward men.
Which is still only a maybe, because even with taking the step to download Toppr, I’m still clueless.
Chatting with the guys on the app was supposed to be a way for me to sort of play it safe.
I kept my profile image anonymous, only using an abs shot, and you don’t have to make anything public but your user name.
Keep my identity under wraps—especially since there are a lot of guys at this school on Toppr—until I figured out if I’m even into it.
Then maybe even explore it if the stars aligned and the opportunity presented itself. See if any interest is sparked.
Only one guy really has as of late, which is a number far smaller than I would have figured.
He goes by the username balls4lyfe, and I’ll admit, I got a kick out of that play on words after I commented on it, only to find out he actually plays a sport with balls.
I think that’s part of the reason it’s been so easy to talk to him, since he’s in a situation sort of like mine.
Another college athlete who wants to get his shit figured out privately without the gossip mill running amuck.
It’s been hard, though, wondering if he’s my teammate.
Or if maybe he’s a guy on the football or basketball team.
Shit, maybe even soccer. I’m not really ruling anyone out at this point.
Or…maybe he’s lying and he’s not an athlete at all. It’s that last little theory which keeps me from revealing I’m also an athlete.
From his body, though? I’d say he’s probably being honest.
And I’ll admit, I have the urge to see more than what he’s shown me.
I think I’d even be cool with getting nice and sweaty with him, because I definitely like what I see…
but it’s still just off. Something I can’t quite put my finger on, but our interactions all feel weird to me.
The flirting is too forced, maybe? And he’s kind of…
clingy. He’s always wanting to talk. Blowing up my phone like crazy, especially when I was at the party.
Of course, at one point when I gave into temptation and checked the DMs when I was pissing, I realized why.
He was there. Or, at least, I’m almost positive he was.
His status said within .1 mile, so I’m sure it wasn’t a coincidence.
But the slight panic I felt in my stomach that he might recognize me—even when I knew he couldn’t because my face and name aren’t public on Toppr—tells me I’m not ready for whatever we have to be anything more than virtual conversation.
I feel really shitty for keeping it all from Pen, though I had my reasons. Plenty of them, in fact, and all still feel valid and justifiable.
Would he look at me differently? Will he be mad that I didn’t tell him sooner? Is it going to change the friendship we’ve had for years if I really do like guys too?
Basically, I’ve been afraid to rock the boat because I didn’t want to fuck something great up in the process. Yet the boat’s still been rocked. And the fears and worries and doubts are more prevalent than ever, no matter how hard I try to shove them and him to the back of my mind.
Which is why, as I lie across my bed and stare up at the ceiling on Sunday night, I take the first step. I might be a coward to do it through a text, but it’s still a white flag. I just hope he sees it that way.
Me: Hey.
I hear the ping of the notification through the wall as I stare at the screen, waiting for it to show as read. When it does and he starts typing back, my heart crawls in my throat.
Pen: You ready to talk about it?
And just like that, I’m hit with another massive wave of guilt.
I shouldn’t feel guilty, though. Not for trying to understand who I really am and certainly for not being ready to talk about it.
That’s the biggest thing I’ve tried to tell myself for over a damn year now, and what countless blogs and Reddit feeds I’ve skimmed through have said too.
Being your most authentic self is the only way to ensure your happiness.
I never really thought of it that way, but it makes sense. I can’t see anyone being truly happy if they’re hiding who they are. Especially such a massive part, like their sexuality.
Even Pen, who hides the deeper pieces of himself from the entire world. It has to chip away at him, having his guard up all the time. Never letting people in. The only time I ever see him at his happiest is when he’s around me or his mom, the people who know what lies beneath the armor.
But I guess he’s not the only one doing it these days…and I think it’s finally time I let him in too.
Me: Yeah…I’m sorry. Dropping that on you how I did was fucked. It wasn’t fair, and I don’t want you to be pissed at me for it.
Pen: I’m good. Well, now I am. But are you?
Me: I feel a little better now that you know.
Pen: Can I ask why you kept it from me?
Me: I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure, ya know?
Pen: Makes sense. And now you do?
Me: Not even close.
I hear his deep chuckle through the wall, and I picture that damn dimple popping out below his mouth as he smiles at his phone. It does something stupid to my stomach. That mixture of butterflies and straight up desire.
Pen: Have you tried any gay porn?
Yes, and while I found some of it really hot…
Me: It’s too unrealistic at this point.
Pen: And hooking up isn’t helping?
Me: I haven’t exactly used the app to hook up.
Pen: Might be a good thing. If you can’t even kiss me, how can you hook up with someone you don’t even know?
Yep, and this is why he’s the smart one. Level-headed and always thinking big picture instead of me, who lives more in the moment.
Me: Maybe I’m just not ready yet.
Pen: Maybe not. You will be eventually.
I know he’s right. I’ve known that for a while as I’ve tried to navigate this on my own. But having someone to validate it makes it a little easier, for whatever reason.
Me: Thanks.
Pen: Always got your back.
Me: So it’s not weird?
Pen: That kissing me made you realize you were MAYBE into dudes? Not at all. It’s kind of a compliment, if you think about it.
A warm feeling fills my stomach, and I have no idea why I was so freaked out about telling him about this sexual awakening.
Granted, he doesn’t know about me still wanting to maul him on the regular or about my attraction to him specifically.
But this is a start, and I already feel like the weight of the world’s been lifted off my shoulders.
Another text pops up, making me laugh.
Pen: You think I’m hot.
Me: I can hear your ego inflating from here.
Pen: It was good to hear you laugh, though. And don’t worry, I think you’re hot too.
Me: *insert Ryan Reynolds rolling his eyes gif*
Pen: He’s definitely hot. No man can deny that. I’d say you have good taste.
Me: Why do I think you’re gonna want to help me match people on Toppr now?
Pen: Uh, that’s what best friends are for.
I have to laugh, knowing his friendship is so much more than just helping me pick out hot dudes from an app, though the fact that he’d even be willing to says a lot about who he is. And again, I wonder why the hell I was so afraid of opening up to him about this.
He’s the person I can count on to get me through the hard shit. The brutal moments, like the deaths of our fathers. Or even just the smaller shit, like having no energy to go get food after a long day, so he does it for me.
When school or baseball or life feels fucking impossible, he’s the one who makes it better.
Pen: Have you thought about trying sexting with a guy on the app to start? Sending dick pics and trying to get off to them? Maybe that would help you start to picture it happening IRL.
Pen: Is this weird for me to be asking that? It feels weird.
Yeah, it might be weird if we weren’t us.
But what’s also weird is the idea rolling around in my head. Or maybe it’s not weird as much as it is insane. And it probably crosses more lines than any best friends should, which is why I should keep this crazy idea to myself. It’s better—safer—that way.
Yet my stupid fingers, guided by my even stupider brain, still types out the message before I can back out of it.
Me: Don’t you dare?
Pen: I have a feeling I’m about to regret my inability to say no to that question.
I smirk, despite my anxiety ramping up. It’s true that he’s never been one to pass up a dare, though I don’t point out that he technically did say no when he passed on that dare to drink that nasty alcohol mixture at the party.
Rolling my tongue over my bottom lip, I lean back against the wall and…I hit send.