That makes me crack up a little. “I guess not… Well, what do you guys talk about then?”
Kristen shifts, twisting her lips for a moment. “I don’t mind the question, but can I ask why you’re asking?”
“Just trying to get a fuller picture of your relationship, what you see in him, what makes Vincent better than another guy,” I say.
She nods, understanding. “Honestly, we just talk a lot about our lives. Sometimes it feels like half our relationship is us recapping the seventeen years we spent not together. We also talk about our ideas—”
“Yourideas?”
Kristen glances at me, the look too brief for me to make anything of it.
“Youknow, it’s all stuff that I’ve told you before. Like, what inspires us, what we want to do after high school, after college. Our inventions, our philosophies, that kind of dramatic stuff.”
“I had no idea Vincent had philosophies,” I tease, shifting out of reach when Kristen tries to swat me.
“He’s deeper than a lot of people give him credit for.”
“I’m notunconvinced of that possibility.”
“Oh mygosh, when you start dating someone, I’m gonna dog the heck out of them to get back at you!”
You already do,I think to myself.
“Okay, okay. What’s an example of Vincent being deeper than a drop of water on a countertop?”
“Well, I told him about how Tyler—that guy I dated in, like, eighth grade—cheated on me. This was when we first started officially dating, and we were, like, talking about past relationships and dos and don’ts.
“Anyway, he said that when it comes to cheating, people are always so hung up on theare theyoraren’t theywhen they should really be asking themselves whatwill Iorwon’t Ido if they are. And at first, it did hit my ear wrong. He was taking the focus off thecheaterand putting it on the person being cheatedon. But, when you think about it, he’s right.
“Obviously, there was more to the conversation. But, yeah, that was one of the things that he said that really surprised me.Like, it was deep, and smart, and I wasn’t expecting that from him.”
“Yeah, wow—” I stutter, fidgeting with the seam of my T-shirt. “I mean, right, totally unexpected, but true.”
An anxious kind of sadness makes my heart flutter. Kristen never told me that Tyler cheated on her. But she told Vincent. They talked about it,in depth. They talked about it over the summer while I was gone, and if I hadn’t pried, and she didn’t think to pullthatspecific nugget from the archives of their philosophical chats, then Ineverwould’ve known that.
I never would’ve known that mybestfriend’s first real boyfriend cheated on her. I had no idea for five years of a thirteen-year friendship… and Vincent found out a couple weeks, maybe a month, into becoming a part of Kristen’s life. I would understand if she maybe didn’t tell me that her first kiss was with someone in first grade or if she lied about getting an F on a test… but for best friends who tell each othereverything, this is a pretty big thing to leave out.
Half of me wants to latch on to that, the knowledge that I’m not the only one with secrets… but it’s not the same.
“Hey,” Kristen whispers, her voice soft. She wraps her hand around mine to stop me from tugging on a loose thread in my shirt. “Clarity, if this is about Maurice, you don’t need to be so worried. He’s so into you, and you guys are still getting to know each other. It seemed like you clicked at Rockne’s—”
“Kris, it’s not about Maurice. I—”
My voice cracks and Kristen goes still, the thumb she’d beenrubbing in circles on the back of my hand stopping abruptly. I want to pull away, but I can’t. Her hand holds mine firmly, her warmth grounding me even though my heart’s racing.
“I don’t like Maurice,” I start, my voice barely above a whisper.
Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t rush to askwhy not. Her silence is like permission, but I can’t stop the war in my mind—what if she hates me after this? What if she never looks at me the same way?
I stare into her blue eyes, warm and round in the dimmed yellow lights of the den. My best friend. Shewantsto hear what I have to say.
So, I force the words out, my voice so quiet I think the hum of the heating vent is louder than me. “I don’t like guys. I’m gay.”
She doesn’t react. Her eyes are wide, locked on mine, and her lips part as she takes in what I said. I brace myself, holding my breath as I wait on the edge of everything I’ve feared since I got home from Camp Refuge.
She squeezes my hand, hard, and before I can process it, she pulls me in—
Brrrrriiiiiiiiiiiingg! Brrrrrrrrrrrrriiiinnng!