Chapter 7
What are they gonna do if I tell them I want the local menace with the bike and the tattoos and the piercings and the "fuck you" attitude?
I swallow hard. Even outside my family, who would ever think we match?
He's chaos.
I'm not.
He's loud.
I'm careful.
He's all risk and trouble.
I'm the boring guy who literally wants to teach children how to spell their names.
We don't look like a couple. And then there's this other fear, the one I don't even want to touch.
What if he doesn't even want me like that? What if this is just a game for him? Just fun. Just a summer thing he'll forget once he gets bored.
He kisses me because it's convenient. He touches me because it fits the plan. He defends me because it pisses Sophia off. And I'm the idiot whose heart can't tell the freaking difference.
I wrap my arms around my knees tighter.
I'm scared of so many things at once I can't separate them.
I'm scared of people finding out.
I'm scared of being judged.
I'm scared of my dad.
I'm scared of losing my family.
I'm scared of losing this version of me that everyone thinks they know. And on top of that, I'm scared of wanting him and him not wanting me back.
Or worse.
Wanting me, but only halfway. Only in secret.
Only when it's fun, but not when it gets hard.
I can't even imagine us actually together. Like really together.
Waking up in the same house. People whispering. Parents at school judging me.
Moms not wanting "the gay teacher with the biker boyfriend" around their kids.
I'd lose everything I've worked for.
And for what? For someone who might get tired of me by winter? It feels like I'm standing between two doors.
One where I stay the version of myself everyone understands, boring, straight, obedient enough.
And another door where I admit I want him, and everything explodes.
He makes that second door look tempting. Very tempting.
He noticed the thumb thing.
For fuck's sake, he noticed the thumb thing.
Nobody ever did. Not my family, not Sophia, not anyone.
He saw it once and suddenly he's helping. And when he told Sophia off, I felt something.
I don't know what exactly, but it was something.
The way he said those things?
So casually, so brutally. "Shame is a small word."
He made me feel backed up. Defended.
Like I'm not crazy for hurting. Nobody else ever made me feel like that.
These thoughts make my stomach twist. I don't know.
What if this is just because I'm hurt?
What if this is just because Sophia crushed my ego and he showed up at the exact wrong or right time?
What if it's not real and I'm just latching onto the first person who makes me feel wanted? But then I remember the way my heart jumped when he teased me at the poker table.
The way I blushed when he said my glare looks better on him.
The stupid way my chest warmed when he called my dream "badass" instead of "stupid" like everyone else.
So yeah, I might like him.
I want more of those moments.
But I don't know if I'm allowed to want that.
I don't know if I'm strong enough to deal with everything that comes with it.
And I don't know if he'd even stand next to me when it stops being fun and starts being ugly.
When people talk. When family yells. When things get real.
I press my face into my sleeve and breathe. Maybe it would be easier if this was just some random crush.
On some random guy. But it's not.
It's Gio.
The worst option and the best feeling, all at once. I want him gone so my heart can calm down. I want him far away so I can go back to my plan, my degree, my safe little future.
But I also want him close.
And that's what terrifies me the most.
Not that I might like guys. But that I might already like him.
This is not okay. I want to talk to someone. I need to fucking talk to someone.
This is too much. But I don't want to actually talk.
Not really. Definitely not about him.
I stand in the middle of my room for a second, biting my lips. Then I find myself walking out. I stop outside Daisy's room. I lift my hand and knock.
"Yeah?"
I open the door a little and peek in. She's sitting cross-legged on her bed with her laptop, hair up in a messy bun, glasses halfway down her nose.
She looks up and immediately pauses her show. "Hey," she says. "You look weird." Her eyebrows pinch. "Is it good-weird or bad-weird?"
I step inside and shut the door behind me.
"Bad-weird," I admit, forcing a small smile. "Do you have a minute?"
She pats the bed next to her without hesitating. I sit down. For a second I think about just saying it.
Hey, I might like Gio.
Nope. Coward mode it is.
I clear my throat. "So, um... I have a friend, back in Canada. A very annoying one."
Daisy's mouth twitches. "Ah. The classic." She leans back on her hands. "Okay. Tell me about your friend, Rava."
"He's..." I pick at a loose thread on her blanket. "Confused. About something. About himself. And I don't know how to help him."
She waits. "He, um..." I swallow. "He's always dated girls. Only girls. But lately he's been thinking. That's what he told me."
"Thinking how?"
I stare at my fingers. "Maybe he's not just into girls. Maybe he's bi. Or something?"
"Okay," she says simply. "Sure. That happens."
"Is that normal?"
She shrugs. "Of course it is, you idiot. People figure that out at all ages. Sometimes later. Sometimes way later."
She tilts her head. "Your friend isn't broken, if that's what he's worried about."
"He's also scared," I add quietly.
"Of what?"
I hesitate, then let it spill. "Of people." I lick my lips.
"Of his family. Of what they'd say. They're just like our family. They already think he's dramatic for not wanting the life they pick. If he adds this on top of everything? He's scared they'll never look at him the same."
"Then his family sucks," she says. "And they'll need to catch up."
I huff a tiny laugh.
She nudges my knee with hers. "What else?"
I stare down. This is the part that burns. "There's also a guy."
Daisy's eyes soften immediately.
"Is it the first time your friend likes a guy?"
I nod. "He doesn't even know if it's 'like' or if he's just losing it."
"What's the problem with the guy?" she asks gently.
I bite the inside of my cheek.
"He's not exactly the type everyone would be thrilled about." That's an understatement.
"He's loud. Gets in trouble. People already talk about him. And my—"
"So he's like Gio."
I pause. "Well... maybe? Yeah, kinda."
"Got it."
"His family would absolutely freak if they knew. If they saw them together, they'd say it's a phase, or a rebellion, or something gross."
Daisy gives me a long look, like she wants to ask who it is.
But she doesn't. "Does your friend feel safe with him?"
The question hits harder than I expect.
I nod slowly. "Yeah. Actually. Weirdly yeah. That's what he told me."
"Does he feel seen?"
Another nod.
"And does the guy treat him like shit or like he is important?"
I immediately think of Gio calling my dream "badass," of his hand on my waist, of him yelling at Sophia on my behalf, of his thumb on mine.
"Like he matters," I admit softly.
Daisy exhales. "Okay. Then that sounds less like problem and more like a complicated good thing."
I stare at her. "He doesn't think they'd work," I say quickly, needing that distance. "He thinks no one would accept them. That people would talk. That it'd ruin everything he's building. His career, his reputation, his relationship with his family, all of it."
Daisy shrugs one shoulder. "Come on. People talk anyway, Rava. If your friend dates some perfect person his parents approve of? People will still talk. If he stays single forever? People will still talk. If he breathes wrong? People will still talk."
She looks me right in the eyes. "The question isn't will they talk. It's is he okay living a life that doesn't belong to him just so they shut up?"
I don't answer.
She leans forward a little. "Does your friend like this guy?"
"He doesn't know."
She smiles the tiniest bit. "Okay, let me rephrase." Her voice is gentle. "Does your friend feel better when he's around him, even when it's chaotic?"
Images flash through my head again.
The fair.
The bike.
The laugh.
The Proud of you, Ravioli.
My voice comes out small. "Yes. I guess."
Daisy nods like that's all she needs. She sits back, picks at the hem of her sleeve. "Then here's what you tell your friend."
I look up.
"Tell him it's okay if he's bi. Or gay. Or still figuring it out." She shrugs. "None of those words make him less. They're just words. He's still him."
I swallow.
She continues.
"Tell him he doesn't owe anyone a performance. Not his family, not strangers, not some reputation they build for him in their heads." Her eyes soften. "His life is his. Not theirs."
"And about the guy?" I ask quietly.
She smiles a little. "Tell your friend he doesn't have to rush anything." She taps her fingers on her knee. "But if being near him feels right? If he feels safe and seen and more like himself?"
She tilts her head. "Then he's allowed to want that. Even if it scares him." Daisy nudges my shoulder with hers.
"He can take it slow," she adds. "He can talk to the guy. Be honest. Set boundaries. But he shouldn't kill something good just because other people might not get it."
I stare at the floor. "And if no one ever supports him?"
Daisy doesn't even hesitate.
"Then he finds the people who will," she says. "Because he deserves that. Your friend deserves people who actually want him to be happy, not just acceptable."
She reaches over and squeezes my hand. "Tell him that from me, okay?" She smiles. "Tell your friend he's not disgusting. He's not broken. He's not wrong for wanting what he wants."
My eyes sting. I blink hard. "Yeah," I say. "I'll tell him."
She watches me for a second like she wants to ask a million extra questions.
I let out a shaky breath and stand up.
"Thanks, Daisy."
"Anytime."
I step out of her room and close the door quietly behind me.
In the hallway, alone again, I press my back to the wall.