Page 12 of Test Me
“No worries. Want to grab a drink?”
We made our way to one of the beverage stations, and I struggled again to keep my focus on the present. Just because Josh had come out to me didn’t mean anything. He’d probably felt comfortable telling mebecauseI was already out. Like how girls sometimes told me everything about their love lives because I wasn’t going to try to sleep with them. God, was that what this was? Was I going to become Josh’s gay confidant while he explored his sexuality with other people? The idea made my stomach churn.
“So,” Chet said after a particularly long pause in our stilted small talk. “Want to be honest about why you’re checking over my shoulder every thirty seconds?”
I winced. “That obvious?”
His smile was kind. “Does it have anything to do with the guy you were talking to earlier? The one who walked you over here?”
“I’m sorry. I really thought I wanted to meet up tonight but?—”
“Hey, no worries.” Chet shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m not really in a place for anything serious anyway. Got some stuff I’m dealing with.” Something flickered behind his eyes before he shook it off. “You seem like your head’s somewhere else, too. Or maybe withsomeoneelse?”
I opened my mouth to deny it, then sighed. “That obvious?”
“Only because I’ve been that distracted guy before.” He finished his drink. “Look, no pressure, we can just make this a friendly thing, and if you just want to hang out sometimes, I could actually use more friends who get it, you know?”
The offer felt genuine, and some of the tension eased from my shoulders. I was probably more relieved than I should’ve been. “That’d be great, actually.”
We chatted over another round of cider about classes and the upcoming break, and by the time I walked home, my head was a little clearer. Josh had trusted me with something importanttonight. The last thing I wanted to do was make him feel weird about it by reading too much into things or pushing for more than he was ready to give.
6
JOSH
Istared at my phone, thumb hovering over Logan’s contact info. I’d typed and deleted about twelve different messages since leaving Winter Fest. None of them felt right.
Hey, how was your date?Too casual. Plus, we’d never discussed stuff like that before.Want to grab coffee?Too desperate.Sorry I was weird about your date.Too… everything.
With a groan, I tossed my phone aside and flopped back on my bed. The confession about liking guys didn’t seem big anymore—my parents had been great, the few friends I’d told supportive. But this thing with Logan? It felt enormous. Terrifying. The way he’d looked at me when I told him about coming out, all soft and understanding, had almost made me brave enough to tell him the rest. That he was the reason I’d finally admitted it to myself. That watching him push his glasses up his nose or get all animated while explaining physics made my heart beat faster.
But then he’d mentioned his date, and reality had crashed back in. What the hell did I know about dating guys? Logan had experience. He’d probably want someone who knew what theywere doing, not some newbie who’d need hand-holding through everything the same way I did physics. Chet had looked exactly like the kind of guy Logan deserved. Confident, put together. Edgy. Not some jock who’d blown off a group project freshman year and needed tutoring just to pass physics.
For all I knew, he and Chet were hitting it off right now, planning their second date. The thought made my stomach clench.
When my phone buzzed and my sister’s name popped up, I scrambled for it, welcoming the distraction of one of her random FaceTime calls—usually to complain about something Mom and Dad had done.
“You look like crap,” she announced as soon as I answered. “Sound like crap, too.”
“Thanks, Al. You’re a real boost to my ego.”
“Egos are gross, anyway.” She squinted at me through the screen. “Seriously, though. What’s wrong with you? You’re all…” She waved her hand vaguely. “I don’t even know. Mopey?”
“I don’t mope.” At least not in front of other people.
“Please. You’ve got the same look on your face you had that time you thought you wouldn’t make varsity.”
I sat up, propping my phone against my knees. “Shouldn’t you be doing homework or something?”
“Shouldn’t you be studying?” She arched a brow, and then frowned. “Wait, did someone say something about you being bi? I will hurt a motherfucker, swear!”
“Aly!” I couldn’t help smiling, though. Ever since my announcement over Thanksgiving break, she’d appointed herself my personal bodyguard, as if I needed one. “No one said anything. Well, nothing bad anyway.”
“Then why do you sound like someone whose dog has just run away?”
“I don’t have a dog.”
“Oh my god.” She groaned, her face going blurry for a second as she flopped dramatically back on her bed. “Fine. Be mysterious and broody. I’ll just tell Mom you’re having a crisis and?—”