Page 64 of Love and History
Ezra squeezed my hand. “I’m glad you did. What happened with Sarah? Did you ever tell her you were gay?”
“No.”
“Why?”
I resumed tracing his tattoos and let out a shaky breath. “She died in a car accident when we were nineteen.”
Ezra went completely still. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “Me too. You know, when I came out to my parents, they thought it was a reaction to Sarah’s death. They didn’t believe me.”
He frowned. “You said they don’t have a problem with it.”
“Oh, gosh, no. They don’t. My family is very accepting. They were simply concerned I was searching for something or someone so different that I wouldn’t be reminded of Sarah. They weren’t wrong to worry, but they didn’t realize I was just…wrecked with guilt. So frustrated and in pain that I couldn’t be happy with a girl and that the one boy I’d kissed made me feel dirty.” I let out a pained-sounding sigh. “Those were dark times. I used to get debilitating panic attacks. I called them guilt attacks. It was my body’s way of voicing aversion to deceit. Coming out felt like unveiling a crime, not something to celebrate. I threw myself into school to escape it all. And when that wasn’t enough, I joined the HRS…so I could literally pretend to be someone else for a while.”
“Fuck, that’s heavy.”
“Yes. I only told you about it because you asked, but…it’s a good example of my own communicative flaws. The Gregs of the world will always exist, but good friends…are special. Sarah wouldn’t have cared that I’m gay. She would have put friendship first. My lack of honesty led to a fissure we weren’t able to fix before she died. I regret that. If I’d been honest, I could have avoided a lot of pain.”
Ezra pulled me close. “I think a wiser man than me would say it’s better to learn from the past than to waste time on regrets.”
“That’s very mature of you,” I said, kissing his bare shoulder.
He pushed my hair from my forehead. “Hey, I think she’d be proud of you, Holden. Very fucking proud.”
I gulped around the ball of emotion in my throat and hugged him. “Thanks.”
Ezra fell backward and laid my head on his shoulder. I listened to his heartbeat in the quiet room, thinking how very strange it was to be here like this with him. Exposed and vulnerable, yet safe. Odd because being with Ezra was the definition of danger. He was a secret, and he had a big secret. And gosh, I didn’t do well with secrets. But I did well with him. I could stay here, just like this…and be very happy.
And then his stomach rumbled.
“I’m starving.” He kissed my cheek and untangled himself. “C’mon. I’ll make you a sandwich.”
I followed him to the door. “You should put on some shorts.”
“Take off my…what?” Ezra pulled his boxer briefs down and swayed, swinging his flaccid penis from side to side.
“Ezra, you can’t—”
“Last one downstairs has to clean the kitchen.”
“Grr!” I scrambled out of bed after him, chasing after him with the pair of shorts I’d found lying next to the bed.
In other words, nothing had changed. Ezra was still Ezra and that was…kind of wonderful.
We made turkey sandwiches—histurkey and cheese, my bread and condiments—and sat at the kitchen table, talking about random things, such as…
“What would you do if you won nine thousand dollars?”
I bit into my sandwich and shrugged. “Nine thousand dollars? That’s a rather arbitrary sum. Why not ten? Why not a million?”
“Don’t get greedy on me, Shakespeare. Look at it as thepetitlottery. It’s not enough to pay off student loans, buy a plane, retire, and buy houses in five of your favorite cities around the globe. You actually have to think about it.”
“Good point, but I’m not sure. You go first.”
He squinted thoughtfully. “Easy. I’d take a killer trip and invest the rest.”
“I like that idea. Me too.”