Chapter 13

(Unedited)

My first thought upon returning home was to search Google. I was sure I would find some tips about dealing with something so obvious. I found some articles and videos on Reddit and YouTube.

I undeniably had a crush on Christian based on all of the results.

As I kept wanting more advice from whatever Google suggested, I abandoned my homework thoroughly. I fell into a rabbit hole of wondering what to do next as I searched for advice on what to do. My phone pinged, and it was Christian's text message. As I click on the text, I wonder what to say to him.

Christian:

You're either thinking of the fun you had at the arcade or avoiding homework.

After lying on my back with my phone held close to my chest, I finally think of something to say to him.

Me:
Was that a date?

Not like a date - date, but I have to pass a class date.

Jesus. What was I saying? Let's not get me wrong: I have always found the notion of dating appealing, just like any other man would. However, rituals from most popular societies always seemed to hinder the moral compass of two members of the same gender dating each other since they were based on roles rather than a moral principle. If Christian said it wasn't a date, I was confident that I was safe and could hide in the closet until I started at MIT. If he responded that it was a date, I was terrified to think about it.

With that, three things stand out as my most immense contrasts. One: I have broken every glass panel in my closet, or two: Christian won't want anything to do with me in or outside of class. Three: He'd see me out, even though I doubted the last option. Everyone has heard the stereotypes. Some assume that they will hit on every person of the same gender. Or a magic cult that can turn one into a homosexual. No matter the year, people think that no one cares anymore. That's not entirely accurate. Our fight against homophobia is far from over.

Christian's text message pinged on my phone a few minutes ago, and I nearly dropped the phone on my head due to my lack of sense of time or how long I must have held onto it. I am on high alert as I wonder whether or not to glance at what he wrote.

Christian:

Would you like to have lunch with me tomorrow??

😁🍕🍫

Me:

I'll bring the Physics notes ⚛️⚛️

During my fantasy world, where he answered my question with the mechanisms of evolution, we were a couple, holding hands comfortably or kissing in public without fear of harm that could come our way in an oppressive homophobic society.

However, my internal process and bubbling anxiety of what he might say swirls nonstop like vanilla and chocolate ice cream mixed into one. My thoughts cling to the unwitting debate of whether he deliberately left the question unanswered or not.

***

As I slide an old comic book shirt on, my morning routine seems out of place. Another oddity is how I keep my Degrassi binges a secret. Perhaps a Christian crush led me to watch old episodes on YouTube. Maybe it was a love affair with Drake, or perhaps it was just an elixir that eased my anxiety.

My attention quickly returns to Dryden's Snapchat story, showing that the football team had won the game they were anticipating. With that, I prepared myself for whatever speech he saved for the ride in and the closeout of the app.

Instead of the usual talks that would typically ensue, his car is quiet. No rap songs he'd naturally play as we'd generally listen to as I rap off-key-nothing to imply any indication that he'd want to talk. His copper coloured eyes looked to the road with only one mission-that mission to get us to school as quickly as possible.

"Is the invite to your party still open?" I ask him curiously. I wasn't sure as to what he'd say-our frenemy complicated matters still sitting rocky between us. "Congrats on the win," I told him, though it felt like something that my parents would prepare me to say for him and not something in this scenario.

Dryden sports a crooked grin in the plight of the matter as though I hadn't said anything.

"It's just a party, and you can come if you want," Dryden tells me as we pull into the parking lot. Christian's jeep is in full view as he stands beside it before he starts heading for the school's entryway. With the tension rising the tides between us, I grab my bag, heading immediately towards my locker.

***

Slaughterhouse-Five in hand, he stands against my locker, looking at the controversial novel rather than the mantra. This pushed back a reality that perhaps now is the time to tell him what he needs to hear. Instead, I fail the bubbling words in my pharynx.

"About later," I announce as we walk towards the classroom. What did I want to say about it? Would it matter if I changed my mind about a thirty-minute lunch break? I adjust my bag and slide my hands into my pockets. "I don't know if I can make it," I tell Christian as I try to consider a believable excuse.

"It's impossible to avoid me. My class is the same as yours," he says in a matter-of-fact tone. That's the thing, I didn't want to avoid him, and I just wanted to figure out how to work out my crush on him.

"I never said that I would avoid you," I say honestly as we approach the doorway to class. Looking at the whiteboard, we see what Mr Olsten had already drawn out for class, along with the mechanisms of kinetic molecular theory. Maybe that's all we could be-just friends.

***

As we sit on the auditorium stage, I scoff at the irony. A closeted gay, who's good at acting, and the empty auditorium should be a perfect metaphor for an audience of one. A forgotten poster of A Spring Awakening, a production that never happened after a controversy broke out after finding out what the show was about, hangs in the stage's left-wing. It left me wondering why an all-boys school would find a measure to want to do such production if they had no idea what it was about.

"You act like you're avoiding me, though," Christian tells me as he adjusts his mauve and navy tie. The dim lights from the stage's background beaming down on him, giving him a halo-like in those over-dramatic effects. However, the halo seemed to have fit him well, making him more attractive.

"I've never been through something like this," I'm," I stop myself short. I played all the scenarios in my head-the ones with Xachary and Mitchell and the ones who I was sure would push me away because I was different. I remembered the stories of boys who had been exiled from friends lives after the big reveal of sexual orientation, and I was one of those people. So what was holding me back from telling him as we sat there alone in the auditorium at lunchtime?

"You're what? A secret drug dealer? Have a crush on someone and don't know how to tell them?" Christian suggests as he pulls some of his makeup out of his messenger bag, then holds it in his hand idly.

"I. Well. Maybe," I use those three terms to tell him, though I wasn't sure as to which one he'd believe. I supposed all three, knowing Christian.

"Not the drug dealer part. I was kidding about that part," Christian tells me as he starts applying foundation on his face. Making his face shine even brighter underneath the stage lights.

My curiosity about something still lingers as Christian finishes his foundation and applies his concealer. As he worked, his wrists worked like magic, conveying how confident he was and the confidence that any girl in this town swoon would have.

"How did you know?" I ask him as he stops applying concealer to his face, leaving me to wonder what coloured makeup he was planning to add. The Billy Idol aesthetic is already coming to life.

"How did I know what?" Christian asks as he parts a few hairs from my eyes. I swat them away as I feel something wobbly inside. A part of me wished that I was at Dryden's party tonight. That way, I could push these feelings aside until graduation. The feels of how I wish that I could chug down a few beers as they do in the movies. As the thought grows, I analyze how much truth comes out when drunk.

"That you liked makeup?" The question popped up quicker than I thought it would, as I felt the moisturizer being placed on my cheeks, and I felt a blush rising with the touch of his soft hands.

"I don't know. I was a kid," Christian tells me as he looks at me with a confident smile. "Probably around the time I Youtubed Ru Paul. More guys should be learn that they can wear makeup,"" he adds as he finally picks a light peach colour of contour, then starts applying it to where he had already surpassed the previous steps. Then he started working more on me to catch up where he was on himself.

As he finishes our makeup, I work into my mind on how physics equations could work into all of this. A free fall is defined as, in physics, the state of a body that moves freely in any direction in the presence of gravity. The planets, for example, are in free-fall in the gravitational field of the Sun. Newton's laws show that a body in free-fall follows an orbit such that the sum of the gravitational pulls is equal to zero.

Could this be what having an actual crush and first love feels like? A Free Fall of emotions instead of scientific methods? Now I knew how Flash felt when he fell in love with his lifelong best friend, Iris West, depending on which arc and or media podium you went by.

"You look like Team Boyfriend," Christian said as he dragged me back into reality and held his phone out in selfie mode. My own fashion statement is a peach fuzz colour at odds with my skin tone, and my latte toned skin meshes together against it as to remind me of those who don't care about stereotypes or what other people tend to say. It's a topic that stands with a society that claims you have to look a certain way to fit into what they want you to do.

"I'm," I start to say, but the words get stuck in my throat. Every chance of bravery I had, has yet again left the building, and who the hell knew when the opportunity would come again. If he assumed I was boyfriend material shouldn't he ask me first?

"You know where you asked me if it was a date," Christian states as I adjust his messenger bag over his shoulder, then looks at me.

Of course, I remembered. This entire lunch break was for just that. The big reveal. The lifting of anxiety.

"Did you want it to be a date?" he asks as he sends me a text of the selfie that he had just taken. My brain is irking on what to say-a repeated puzzle with Christian. Before I could answer, the bell announced the end of lunch, and I stayed frozen as Christian walked towards the double doors of the auditorium.

I'd definitely be at Dryden's party later that night.