Hey, I wanted to come to your game with Travis this Saturday. Can you get us tickets?
The three dots blinked at me.
Evan
Sure. Got a hot date with the football player?
I scoffed a laugh. Of course, he’d go there.
“What?” Travis leaned in and pushed on my hand, tilting my phone’s screen toward him. As a grin swept his lips, he said, “Tell him yes.”
“It’s not a date, Travis. We’re not dating.” My heart hurt a little. That was a rude thing to say. “I mean…”
“I know what you mean. It’s not a public date. We’ll keep it friendly while we’re out. But everything else about that night will be me taking you on a date. We’ll know it’s a date, but no one else. Does that work?” He squeezed my wrist, and lines formed between his brows. “You said you didn’t want to see anyone else, and we like each other.”
My heart battered against my rib cage. Was I ready for this? It was one thing to have hookups in secret, but outwardly calling our time together dates? It meant so much more. I croaked, “Yeah, okay.” I had to be real with myself. He was right.
“Good.” With a quick exhale, he straightened. “Get those tickets from Evan and I’ll make dinner reservations.”
I stared at my phone. I’d just agreed to my first date with a guy. Travis, no less.
“Are you okay?” Leaning toward me, he cupped my cheek and pressed a lingering kiss on my lips. “Colton, talk to me.”
My gaze darted between his stunning blue eyes, framed by blond hair. “Yes, I’m okay. I just needed a moment to process this.” I tapped on the screen. Evan knew we’d hooked up, so he might as well know the rest.
Colton
Yes. Do we pick up the tickets at the venue?
Evan
Good for you, Colton! Yes, just give them your name at the ticket office and you’re in. I’m so happy for you.
Colton
Thanks. Don’t tell anyone.
Evan
Who the hell would I tell?
Colton
Thanks.
With a long sigh, I picked up my fork and shoveled it into my food. “Okay, looks like we have tickets.”
“This’ll be so much fun, Colton.” He patted my shoulder and ate his dinner.
I should callthe help center before Travis got here. It was Thursday, and I had half an hour before he’d be here for his tutoring session. Okay, hookup or whatever we were calling it now. I knew he’d ask me about this again.
With a scowl, I pulled up the website on my laptop as I sat on my couch, my pulse beating into my throat. Why was this so hard for me? It was only a phone call. I punched in the number and held my finger over the call button. What would I say? Just tell them I’m queer and I need a therapist.
I hit the button and set the phone on speaker. It rang a few times and picked up.
“ASU LGBTQ Help Center. What can I do for you?”
Stabbing the end call button, I dropped my phone and scrubbed my face. With a growl, I said, “Fuck.” What if the therapist wanted to rehash my mother’s death? I might return to that horrible place, and dating Travis…I could spiral and start drinking heavily again. Or worse. But I didn’t know how to get painkillers. But then there was a weed dispensary close by. Hell, that wasn’t the same.