Chapter 17
Am I a terrible person if I say that Oliver’s asexuality is one of the best things to ever happen to me?
Probably.
But it doesn’t make it less true.
All my hesitation towards him, due to lingering trust issues with men, is gone. I have nothing to fear now. I no longer have to police myself or hold back physical affection because Oliver won’t objectify me. I am free to be my true self around him without fear of rejection or misinterpretation.
Now that I know Oliver is queer, my intuition about him being different from other guys makes complete sense. I knew—somewhere deep down in my soul, my heart, my gut, somewhere—that Oliver was safe. Somehow, I knew he was decent, kind, and genuine. My instinct was finally right about someone.
Maybe I’m not as broken as I thought I was.
“How’s this spot?” Oliver asks.
“Looks good to me!”
Every other Friday, The Village hosts a “Movie Night On The Green,” held in one of the two enclosed green spaces between the halls of our dormitory.
Historically, I’ve never considered attending, either because of the weather or my overwhelming workload.
This week, however, a cold front has finally reached Atlanta, bringing highs into the seventies and lows into the low sixties, making the weather perfect for evening activities.
Plus, with my current schedule, I’ve been able to keep up with my coursework without issue.
So when Oliver invited me this week, I had no reason to decline.
What I wasn’t expecting, though, was that I was the only one who didn’t.
“Is this blanket going to be big enough for everyone?” I ask as Oliver spreads his multicolored, water-resistant picnic blanket. It looks big enough for two or three people at most.
“Should be,” Oliver says through a grunt. “But if you’re worried, you can tell Celeste to bring another one.”
“Celeste is working tonight.”
“Oh. Well, it might just be us, then,” Oliver says, brows furrowing. “Theo is back up in Specter for work. Vimlesh said he was busy, and Max told me he already had plans.”
I snicker. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure Max is on a date of some kind, but he probably won’t mention it unless it goes well.”
“What about your girlfriend?” Oliver asks, dropping to his knees to smooth out the creases on his blanket.
I shake my head. “She’s working, too.”
“Damn,” Oliver mutters, sounding defeated. He glances up at me with his giant puppy-dog eyes. “Well, hey, we don’t have to do this if you don’t—”
“No, no, I’m good!” I insist. “I don’t have anything better going on, do you?”
“Nope.”
“And I mean, we’re already down here,” I continue, joining him on the picnic blanket. “The weather is gorgeous. We claimed a great spot to see the movie, and I’m pretty sure Papa Geien’s Deli has a table over there.”
Oliver’s eyes go wide, and he practically leaps to his feet. “Really? Where?”
I laugh. “Over there,” I point to the line of tables set up by the entrance to Lanier Hall. “You should go get some before the line gets too crazy! I’ll hold down the fort here.”
“Hell yeah,” Oliver says eagerly. “What would you like?”
I blink. “Me?”
“No, the other person I came with. Yes, you, dummy.”
“Oh, no, I’m not that hungry,” I wave him away. “I’ll have a snack later.”
Oliver rolls his eyes. “Jude, my dude, just tell me what you want. Come on, it’s my treat this time.”
I hesitate for a moment longer before a growl from my stomach gives me away. “Okay, fine, get me a Strammer Max.”
“Excellent choice. Be right back!”
Oliver turns and jogs away, and I pull my throw pillows from my bag, arranging them along the edge of the blanket so Oliver and I can both prop ourselves up enough to see the screen.
Before I can settle in, a familiar buzz near my ear makes me swat at it.
Shit. I guess the weather is still warm enough for mosquitoes.
I dig through my bag for my insect repellent, take a few steps away from Oliver’s blanket, and spray my legs and arms several times.
The smell is as unpleasant and overwhelming as usual, so I keep my distance for several minutes while it absorbs.
Returning to the blanket, I’m startled by another buzzing noise, but quickly realize that this time, it’s just my phone.
Mom
Hi sweetie! Your dad and I miss you… You should visit soon! Let me know when you’re available!
I glare at the text. Fuck. I thought my parents wouldn’t demand more of my time like this. I thought we had an understanding.
But what choice do I have? They’re literally funding my life. I have to do what they want. I owe them everything.
Jude
hey Mom! yeah, let me check my calendar and get back to you later tonight
“Yuck, somebody just bathed in bug spray,” Oliver announces as he arrives, carrying a Papa Geien-branded paper bag. “That’s the strong stuff, too.”
“They didn’t bathe in it,” I snap. “They very respectfully stepped away from the blanket and applied a standard amount.”
Oliver pauses, then spots the repellent next to me. “Oh. But I mean, is that even necessary? There aren’t any mosquitoes around. It’s like sixty-eight degrees.”
“Tell that to the mosquito that bit my ankle,” I counter. Sure enough, an itchy red bump had formed by the time I walked over here and sprayed.
“Oh, shit,” Oliver shakes his head. “I’m sorry for questioning you. That’s brutal.”
“I have the kind of blood mosquitoes can’t resist,” I explain. “I’ve been a bug magnet for as long as I can remember. But of course, they weren’t that bad up in Indiana.”
“That’s right, you’re a transplant!” Oliver sits facing me at the end of the blanket, places the bag between us, and empties its contents. “You mentioned there was a long story about why you chose Eidola, of all places, to go to school.”
I chuckle softly. “I did, didn’t I?”
Oliver eagerly unwraps his sandwich and takes a bite, letting out a distinctly sensual moan as he chews. “God, what even was my life before the Strammer Max?”
With a snicker, I follow his lead, opening mine with slightly less horniness. It’s undoubtedly an incredible sandwich, but maybe not orgasmically great.
We enjoy the first few bites in comfortable silence, except for Oliver’s occasional lewd noises. By the fifth or sixth whimper, I can’t hold back my laughter anymore. “Dude, you’ve got to calm that down.”
Oliver’s eyes flutter open. “Calm what down?” he asks with his mouth full.
“It sounds like you and that sandwich need some privacy.”
His chewing slows as he processes my words. “Sorry,” he mumbles, turning away as he finishes his bite.
I giggle again. “It’s okay, I just thought you should know.”
Oliver smiles again, cheeks now a bright pink, and it’s endearing as hell. “So,” he says before taking another bite. “Why Eidola?”
With a sigh, I fold the wrapper back over my half-eaten sandwich.
“Well, as I said, we moved to Georgia for my dad’s job.
COVID-19 bankrupted his previous company, but an old colleague in Atlanta referred him to a better-paying job here.
Dad got hired, and the company paid for our relocation.
I’m the youngest of three, so by then I was the only kid still in the house and about to transition from middle to high school.
My parents decided it was an okay time to uproot my entire life and start from scratch in a new state. ”
“Yikes,” Oliver interjects.
“Yeah. Yikes. But the truth was, I was never all that good at making friends. I was a great student, and teachers loved me, but I never really felt like I fit in with kids my age. Plus, it was in the middle of the pandemic, and the few friendships I had at school were already deteriorating. So it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it would be, and I ended up finding Max and Celeste. ”
Oliver grins. “Oh, good! Definitely could have been worse.”
I nod. “To be honest, Celeste is the main reason I chose Eidola. I also… kind of fell in love with Atlanta. It’s so culturally rich and diverse, and there’s a strong LGBTQIA presence here, too.
When Celeste said she wanted to apply to school right here in the city, I started looking through the degree programs. As soon as I read about social work, I knew that was the path for me. ”
Oliver crumples his now-empty sandwich wrapper and tosses it in the bag. “So, why social work? What’s your dream job?”
I fidget with the sandwich in my lap. “Well, to put it simply, I want to help queer people. I want to connect trans kids with the resources they need to transition. I want to get gay teenagers away from abusive families. I want to support kids who are kicked out of their homes because of how they identify. I want to make a difference in the lives of queer people who feel abandoned and give them hope.” I shrug.
“And, I don’t know, I think social work is probably the most practical way to do that. ”
Oliver stares at me, mouth hanging slightly open, until he finally smiles. “Wow. That’s…that’s amazing, Jude. You’re amazing.”
Heat flushes my cheeks. “Nah, I want to be amazing. I’m not quite there yet.”
Oliver scoffs. “Yes, you are. You know what you want, and you’re here doing the work to make it happen. That’s incredible.”
My cheeks burn even brighter, and I have to look away from Oliver’s adoring gaze to keep my face from combusting. “I don’t know about that,” I mutter. “But thank you.”
Oliver meticulously wipes his mouth and hands with a napkin, then discards the napkin in the bag. “So, you mentioned you’re the youngest of three? What are your siblings like?”
I bark a sarcastic laugh. “They kind of suck,” I admit. “I mean, technically, they’re perfect. My brother is a doctor who married a teacher, and my sister is a lawyer who married a cop. All very accomplished, productive members of society.” I unwrap my sandwich again and take another bite.
“That’s pretty cool, right?” Oliver says, studying me warily. “At least in theory?”