I felt like if I stayed home, Jim would know, so I made sure to make plans with Kyle to go watch a movie "or something."

I wasn't sure what I meant by or something.

The reason Kyle and I are friends is because he is also gay. I've vented time and time again about my struggles, but I'm always careful to make sure he doesn't know everything. And he never pushes me.

During the previews of the movie, we were talking to each other. "So, how's your crush on the straight boy?" Kyle asked.

"Terrible," I sighed. "How'd you know that was the problem?"

Kyle shrugged. "We don't talk about much else."

That was true. Our sexualities were the only thing that made us click. He was a drama geek, and I was... just a geek? A geek that plays Soccer.

I only started playing Soccer because Jim wanted a buddy of his on the team. I have no actual skill, and everyday I am convinced that I will be kicked off the team, but I never am.

It's strange how much of my life just depends on him.

Once the movie started, we stopped talking. It was some dumb dramatic rom-com, which Kyle clearly enjoyed more than I did.

He clapped when it was over and the credits started to play. "That was pretty good," he said.

I shrugged. I guess it was time for the "or something". We didn't plan for anything else, so we were both sitting outside of the movie theater waiting for our rides.

"I think I figured it out," Kyle said, looking over at me.

"Figured what out?"

"Your crush."

I froze. How could he know? Was I just that obvious? Probably.

"It's Jim, isn't it?" Kyle inquired, but he sounded sure of it. He knew.

"Yeah," I admitted, with a sigh. "I'm tired of liking him."

Kyle nodded. He was also familiar with falling for straight guys, but he actually has a boyfriend now. "Have you tried telling him?"

"Of course not!" I exclaimed. "He might feel uncomfortable with me if I do."

Kyle's mom's car pulled up in front of us, making him stand up. "Take the chance," he said, climbing into the car.

I promised him I would, but I wasn't even sure if I would or not.

I keep thinking about the situation until the honking of a car snaps me out of it. I look up, expecting it to be my mom, but it's him. It's Jim, in his tiny little black car.

I reluctantly get in his car, sitting down.

"Hey," Jim said. "Your mom told me to pick you up."

"She couldn't do it herself?" I asked harshly.

He flinched, detecting that I was mad at him. He didn't know what for. "I'm sorry," he apologized.

"Whatever," I sigh. "Just get driving."