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Father Robert’s words echo through my head, buzzing incessantly. His teachings clash in my mind with annoyingly vivid memories of my evening with Drew, my body wrapped in her embrace, my lips wrapped in her breath.

How could something that feels so right be so wrong?

Before I know it, I’m pulling out my phone and calling the only other person I know I can trust.

“Hey. Meet me at the cafe in ten?”

******

When Thom walks up to the table I snagged in the far corner of the cafe—a safe distance away from everyone else who may have ears—he’s carrying a briefcase and a plate with a singular miniature muffin atop it.

“What’s that for?” I gesture to the briefcase as he takes off his trench coat and sits across from me.

“Well, ya sounded like ya had something quite important to tell me. I figured it would involve feelings, yeah? It helps me to draw out my emotions when I’m havin’ big ones. Thought maybe it would help you too?” Thom pulls out a pen and a notepad filled with scribbles and turns to a blank page, sliding it across the table to me.

“Oh,” I say quietly, taken aback by his thoughtfulness.

I’d never had someone do something like this for me before. Never had someone put this much thought into my feelings about things, considering I’ve always been forced into a go-with-the-flow mindset. “Thank you.”

“So what’s on your pretty mind, Laine? I’m all ears.” He chuckles, playfully pulling at the lobes of his own ears.

My shoulders relax as the comforting aura Thom holds is making its way to my side of the table, and suddenly I’m telling him the words I never thought I would say to myself, let alone another person.

“I think I’m in love with Drew.”

Silence overtakes the dimly lit corner I’ve stuck us in, and my chest drops, my breath holding as I try to quickly run through every possible response he could give.

“Oh,” he says quietly, almost at a whisper.

I immediately regret opening my mouth to say anything at all.

“Well, have ya told her?”

My chest drops again, and my breathing slowly returns to a steady pace at the sound of his nonchalant reaction, like my confession means more than my identity to him. It’s relieving to hear, and oddly surprising.

“Yes. Well, no. Sort of ?”

“Sort of ?”

“Technically, I told her with my lips, and my hands, and my-”

“OH!” Thom’s face widens as he repeats himself, no longer in a whisper this time.

I sit silently, watching his facial expressions and trying to read his reaction.

“And did her lips and hands and whatever else you told her with respond in a mutual way?” He raises an eyebrow, smiling giddily and nodding toward the pen and paper.

“Ugh! Yes!”

My brain melts at the memory of our kiss. The way she grabbed the back of my head and ran her fingers through my hair, pulling me into her as our lips communicated what we couldn’t out loud.

“Well, great, I’m happy for ya! What’s the problem then?”

The chilling feeling comes back as Thom asks, tapping the notepad with his fingertips. I feel safe with him though, reminded of his judgment-free comfort solely from the way he delicately uses his fingertips for everything from brushing granola crumbs off his desk the first day we met at school to holding the check still as he paid for our lunch the first time we hung out at this cafe to the way he taps the notepad now.

“I don’t know. The way I feel when I’m with her is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. When I’m with her, I feel alive. Like I could accomplish anything as long as she’s by my side. I feel like a completely different person when I’m around her, different from the image I’ve always had for who I wanted to be as I grew up, except I actuallylikewho I am when I’m with her.”

“This sounds great, Laine. I’m happy for ya, really! Still not seeing the problem though.”