Chapter 7 Parker
Parker
Song: I Belong in Your Arms by Chairlift
It’s been a rough couple of days. My mind has been so loud and busy that I haven’t been able to focus on my classes or sleep well.
I have technically been sleeping, but for the past two mornings, I’ve woken up more tired than when I went to bed.
I guess having a sexuality crisis over your roommate will do that.
Thankfully, Amy has been an enormous help—although when I called her two nights ago to freak out over my potential attraction to Reid, she didn’t even bother pretending to be surprised by the development.
Apparently, she clocked my crush on him months ago.
Her “knowing older sister” thing is usually annoying, but in this case it was almost a relief.
If my feelings for Reid were so transparent to two separate people, even when I was oblivious to them, it was unlikely that I was making them up or secretly gaslighting myself into them.
But she listened to me ramble and has spent two days talking me through the mess in my head as I’ve attempted to process my sexual awakening as fast as humanly possible.
I haven’t come to any definitive conclusions about how I identify other than “not straight,” but I am sure about one thing: I have feelings for Reid.
That it’s only been two days since I saw him for longer than in brief passing and I miss him like fucking crazy is pretty damning proof of that.
It’s not just that I find his general nerdy librarian vibe incredibly attractive.
I want to take him on dates, hold his hand in public, and wake up next to him (again).
I really want to kiss him and find out how his facial hair feels scraping against my cheek…
or in other places. That particular thought I did not discuss with my sister.
It also led to a bit of a rabbit hole exploring a section on a site I only pull up on incognito mode, a section that I’ve never had the guts to click on before. It was… illuminating, to say the least.
So, yeah, I definitely have feelings for Reid, and I’m going to tell him.
Amy told me several times I don’t need to tell him about my feelings right away—that I could just tell him about my vague queerness and see if it changes anything between us.
But I know myself. That newly-discovered aspect of my identity and my feelings for Reid are so intrinsically linked that I would end up blurting it out anyway.
It’s better for me to plan to tell him both pieces of information from the beginning.
I’ve already planned what I’m going to say. I heard Reid get home about thirty minutes ago, meaning he’s probably had enough time to change into his inside clothes and decompress a little. So there’s nothing keeping me from doing this other than my anxiety.
Okay.
Breathing deeply to steel my nerves, I stand up from the foot of my bed.
I can do this.
I grip the door handle and pull it open with resolve, jumping when I see Reid standing in the hallway, hand poised to knock. “Shit,” I swear under my breath.
“Sorry,” he blurts out, dropping his hand back to his side.
“No, it’s okay. You just startled me,” I assure him.
We stand for a moment in awkward silence, then break it at the same time, saying, “Can I talk to you?”
Wait, he wants to talk to me too? What could he want to talk to me about?
Did I do something? No, I’ve barely seen him in the two days I’ve been hiding in my room, so I wouldn’t have had time to do anything—unless that’s what he wants to talk about.
Is he mad that I’ve been avoiding him? Or does he already know what I want to talk to him about?
Maybe he somehow heard me through the walls as I talked to Amy over the phone, and he—
“Parker,” he says, stopping the runaway thoughts in their tracks.
I realize my breathing has gotten shallower, so I inhale slowly and let it out. “Sorry I was—”
“I know.”
We’re silent for another beat, then I mentally shake myself to reset.
“Can we go sit in the living room?” I ask, and he nods.
We sit on the couch, at least a foot between us, not unlike how we used to.
Except before, we were still comfortable with each other.
Now there’s an anxious energy lingering between us, and I hate it, especially since it’s almost certainly my fault.
I’m rotated to face him, but Reid is sitting facing forward.
He isn’t looking at me. His hands are twisted in his lap.
I can do this.
“Okay, so first, I’m—”
“Wait,” he exclaims. “Can I go first?” He glances over at me, but shakes his head before turning his gaze back down, as if realizing eye contact might be too much at the moment..
I want to insist on going first because this is already not going according to plan, but I can’t bring myself to say no to him.
He doesn’t wait for me to give him permission though, and blurts out, “I’m sorry.”
Wait, what? Why is he sorry? I was going to be the one apologizing. “Why—”
“I don’t know what I did, but whatever it is, I didn’t mean it,” he says, his voice thready with anxiety.
“No, you didn’t do anything. I—”
He pivots to face me now, but his eyes are still trained on his lap.
“Except I did because you’ve been avoiding me—and don’t say you haven’t.
You have, and if it was because you were sick or stressed about school, you’d talk to me about it.
I know because you’ve always talked to me about it before.
So, the only logical conclusion is that it’s because of something I did.
But I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out what it is, and I can’t—” His breath hitches, and I want to comfort him—to hold him—but I can tell by the rigid set of his shoulders that it isn’t the right time.
“Reid—”
“I can’t figure it out. Was it our sleeping together?
That’s the only thing I can think of. We’d never done that before, but I thought it was fine.
That morning, you weren’t acting any differently.
But then I got home from work that day, and you were hiding out in your room, telling me you had a headache and weren’t hungry.
Did I make you uncomfortable somehow? Did I cross a boundary I shouldn’t have?
Or was I too needy? Do you need space? Because I can be less clingy.
” His voice breaks, nearly breaking my heart along with it.
“We don’t have to cuddle anymore if you don’t want to.
Just please tell me whatever it is, and I won’t do it again. I’ll be better, I promise.”
Shit, I need to fix this. I can’t let him think this is his fault.
“Reid, no. You have done absolutely nothing—” Fuck it. I exhale sharply and scoot closer to him. “Look at me.”
He jerks his head no.
“Please, Reid,” I beg.
He must be able to hear the desperation in it because he looks up. He doesn’t look me in the eye, but at least I can see his face now.
“Come here,” I say, offering him a hand.
His brow furrows. “But—”
“Fuck, please let me— You have done nothing wrong,” I insist. “You’ve been perfect, and I am so sorry that I made you think otherwise. This has all been on me, and I promise I will explain, but first I really need you to come here.”
His eyes finally meet mine, and I give him a pleading look. Then, in a flash, he’s hugging me.
For the first time in two days, I feel like I can take a full breath. I hold him close, cradling the back of his head as he tucks his face into my neck. His hands fist the back of my sweatshirt, almost like he’s afraid I’m going to shove him away at any moment.
Not a chance.
I bury my face in his hair. “I am so sorry, Reid. I was avoiding you, but it wasn’t because of anything you did. You have done nothing wrong. There were some… things about myself that I needed to figure out, and I needed time to do that.”
“Time and space?” he mumbles.
“Yeah, time and space.” I close my eyes for a moment, letting his proximity calm me. I can do this. “But I’m ready to tell you now, which is why I asked if we could talk.”
“Do you need that space now, too?” he asks.
I smile to myself. That’s such a Reid way to put it. “Yeah, I think it’ll be easier for me to get it out.”
He nods against the crook of my neck, then sits back. His hands fall back into his lap, and he looks at me patiently. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”
I had an entire speech prepared. It was well thought out, organized, concise. But when I open my mouth, that speech is not what comes out. Instead, I ramble. I talk in circles. I barely even breathe as the stream of consciousness falls from my mouth.
I’m barely aware of what I’m saying, but the main points are in there somewhere: I’m not straight, he’s the reason I realized I’m not straight, and I’m fucking crazy about him.
When I finish and finally breathe, Reid says nothing.
I don’t really expect him to at first. I dumped a lot on him at once, and he’s never been the kind of person to respond to anything without fully and logically processing the information first—especially when emotions are involved.
It’s one of the things I appreciate about him—he’s considerate.
But all of that processing is internal, and most of the time, his face is so neutral that I can’t even guess what he’s thinking.
Which isn’t usually a problem, except I just laid my heart and soul out for him to see, and all he’s doing is staring at me. I dig my nails into my palm, trying to ground myself. But it doesn’t work. My leg bounces, and he just keeps staring. And finally, I break.
“I know this is a lot, but can you please say something? Anything? Even just acknowledge that you heard me? Because I’m kind of spiraling a little, and—”