Miles and I had been Snapchatting periodically throughout the week. I still hadn't given him a definite answer about hanging out, but that night I decided. I decided I was willing to risk blowing up my life of anonymity so that I could finally, just finally, be myself, even if it was just for one day in someone else's home.
So, I told Miles I was free Saturday.
I was going to get my mind off of Josh. I was going to stop worrying about him, stop thinking about him, stop imagining us being together. It was a fantasy anyway; I had built up this idea of him, of us, when in reality we were barely more than strangers.
By Thursday, I had finally started my college admissions essays. I was applying to the University of Maryland, the University of Michigan, SUNY, the University of Iowa, and Berkley, which was definitely a long shot. To apply for early action, I had to submit my applications by the end of the following week, the exception being Berkley, which was due at the end of November.
I really had no qualities that set me apart from other candidates; all I had was my 3.8 GPA and an SAT score of 1400. Universities wanted students with all of that stereotypical stuff, but they also wanted those students to be "well-rounded." Which, according to my applications, I was not. It was also a little too late to start trying now.
At lunch, I sat with my typical group. Since the party after homecoming, Lydia and Ben had been more touchy-feely with each other. Though I didn't ask, it was obvious they were now dating.
"Hey, Connor," Liv said to me while peeling the top off of a cup of yogurt. "Can I see your notes from physics at some point? I missed a class last week because of my dentist appointment and totally forgot."
"Yeah," I told her.
"Also," she said through a mouthful, "do you wanna study together for the test next week?"
"Sure, you can just come over on Sunday or something."
While we continued eating, I noticed Josh sitting with his friends a few tables over. He didn't appear to be eating or really engaging in conversation. He looked tired. Depressed. When the bell rang indicating we had 5 minutes to get to our next period, everyone got up to go to class. Liv picked up my backpack for me.
"I can get it," I told her.
"It's fine," she said. "I'm going that way anyway."
"I have to go to the bathroom," I lied.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "I can wait."
"Yeah, I got it."
After everyone else shuffled off to class, I crutched over to Josh, who was very slowly packing up his seemingly untouched lunch.
"Hey," I said in a quiet voice, since some students were still leaving the cafeteria.
He looked up at me, surprise flitting across his face. "Oh. Hi."
"Um, are you okay? You don't...look so good."
Josh sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes had dark circles underneath. "Connor, I'm sorry, but...can we not do this right now?"
"I'm just trying to talk to you."
Josh looked at me, a sad expression on his face. "I don't feel like talking, okay?" His expression quickly morphed from sadness to anger. "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" I asked, taken aback.
"Like...you pity me. I'm so goddamn sick of everyone telling me what I should or shouldn't be doing or feeling." His words sounded angry, but his eyes were filled with sorrow. Maybe he thought no one noticed, no one could see how much he was hurting if he deflected enough or drank enough or bottled everything up.
But I noticed.
"I'm not going to tell you how to live your life," I told him. "I'm just saying...I'm here if you ever decide you want to talk to someone."
"I don't need your fucking help," he spat. Then, he walked out of the cafeteria.
I took a moment to recover before going to class. As I struggled to carry the weight of my backpack while crutching to class, I regretted all of my decisions that day.
I was beginning to think that maybe I'd be able to get through the hockey rumor unscathed. However, at the end of my next class, US Government, one of the girls who had signed my cast, Rylee, approached me as I packed up my stuff.
"Hey, Connor," she said.
"Hey, Rylee."
"Um...So, I'm friends with Lydia." She briefly glanced down at her shoes, almost as if she was nervous.
"Okay..." I said slowly.
"Yeah, her and Ben are doing something together on Saturday, and we...I mean, I wanted to know if you wanted to go. With me." When I didn't say anything, she quickly added, "Like, as a double date."
"I can't." I tried to look apologetic about it, but internally I just wanted our interaction to be over. "Sorry. I, um, have other plans already."
Rylee nodded, looking disappointed. "With Olivia, right?"
"What? No," I said. "Just with...other friends."
Before she could respond, Liv walked in the classroom. Other students also began filing in for the next class period. "Sorry I'm late!" Liv said, helping me finish gathering up my stuff. "Hi, Rylee." She smiled warmly at Rylee, who ducked away and practically ran out of the room.
Liv looked at me, a hurt and confused look on her face. "What was that about?"
"You don't wanna know," I said.
"But...I kind of do."
I shook my head as we headed towards Mr. Powell's room for physics. "Don't worry about it."
***
On Saturday afternoon, I spent approximately an hour trying on different outfits. What was a closeted gay who was hanging out with a guy for the first time supposed to wear? All of my clothes seemed too straight, but at the same time discretion was key.
Ironically, that morning, I'd received a message from Josh, apologizing for what he'd said to me at lunch the other day. Using every ounce of self-control I could muster, I didn't reply, at least not yet.
I'd told Miles that my leg was broken and that I couldn't drive, so he'd agreed to pick me up. He also agreed to park down the street a bit so my parents wouldn't see me getting into a strange boy's car. I'd told my parents I was going over to Liv's to study, which was the most plausible excuse; my parents really seemed to want me to hangout with her, probably because they thought we had "a thing." You know, my mom would say, Olivia is very pretty. I think you're good influences on each other. Real inconspicuous, Mom.
I decided to just wear jeans, a plain blue hoodie, and a pair of gray Vans. I did, however, spritz a little bit of cologne on myself. I double-checked my reddish-brown hair in the mirror. I was definitely in need of a haircut, but the messy look it was currently giving seemed like it was done on purpose. In short: good enough.
Miles texted me to let me know he was on his way and he'd be here in a few minutes. The lunch I had eaten shortly before was threatening to come back up as my shaking hands texted back a thumbs up emoji.
I then brushed my teeth and triple-checked my appearance while doing so. Miles, so far, seemed like someone who was so open about who he was, like he didn't care what others thought. I didn't know how to be like that, how to turn off that part of my brain that always thought about how everyone else perceived me. I was worried Miles would see right through me, see that I was some sort of phony, too afraid to ever do anything meaningful.
Too afraid to even tell my closest friends I was gay.
Shortly later, while I sat on my bed, my phone buzzed with a text from him, telling me he was parked down on the corner of my street. Deep breaths, I told myself. Everything was fine. It'll be fine. Fine. As I repeated that word to myself, it started sounding weird, losing its meaning entirely.
I grabbed my crutches and got up off of my bed, crutching over to the doorway. I thought about texting Miles, telling him that I changed my mind, and then crawling back into bed. It would've been easier. Safer.
I imagined there was a line across my bedroom door, and if I crossed it, I could never get back to how I was or who I was before. It was like Shrödinger's cat in that moment; if I stayed where I was, if I didn't cross the imaginary boundary or get back into bed, I was both fine and not fine, safe and not safe. In that moment, and that moment alone, I didn't have regrets regardless of what I would decide to do.
Or maybe I was just being dramatic and overthinking it. Yeah, I probably was. Maybe none of this mattered. Maybe meeting Miles would be the best thing that ever happened to me. Or maybe he'd be a serial killer and lure me to a remote location.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. Then, I crutched out of my room, crossing the line and refusing to look back.