Eric's POV

It was the day before classes started that Izzy had managed to corral and bribe me into going to Fresh Brew, the quaint coffee shop on the corner a few blocks from campus. Izzy's friends worked there, and I knew they'd message her about my location if I stepped near its vicinity. It wasn't that I didn't want to see my girlfriend, but I didn't want us to have the conversation I knew she desperately needed to have with me. I could push it off until after classes started, and I'd have at least homework to use as an excuse to leave early. That was what I had hoped, at least.

My avoidant personality style never used to be this terrible. Still, I'm sure if I could afford a therapist, they'd say it was an unhealthy coping mechanism and that I needed to learn to communicate better. Why pay for a random stranger to tell me something I was already too self-aware?

I wasn't like Izzy or Kenji; no one in my immediate family to listen and understand me. I didn't have living grandparents who could fund my housing or supportive parents who actually cared for my happiness.

It was why I learned to suppress. Less heartbreak that way.

Except, Izzy, as I began to date her, could see right through me. She prided herself in her intuition and ability to listen and understand people calmly. It was why she was in her last years of studying to become a therapist. It was also why I sat my ass down in the chair as instructed and waited for her to bring me my favorite coffee and pastry. I wasn't going to argue with her.

"Eat," she instructed, sliding the s'mores tart I was obsessed with toward me. It's more sugar than I'd probably need, especially considering conditioning was next week, and Coach liked to have us follow our nutritionist's plan to a tee. I took a hesitant bite, watching her neutral expression for any sign of hate, disappointment, or anything negative. I took a second bite when she added, "How are you?"

"How am I?" I parroted, not caring that marshmallow fluff was likely all over my cheek. "You're not mad?"

Her brows lifted. "Why would I be mad at you?"

I took a long sip of my warm coffee, ignoring the burning in my throat.

"I fucked it all up," I confessed. "It's all a mess."

"Why makes you say that?"

I scoffed, reaching for my coffee like a client would clutch a pillow in a therapist's office. "You know why. I never should've suggested it to him."

"It wasn't just you," she pressed. "I distinctly remember us conversing about it in this very shop. We both agreed he was the safest option. I was the one you suggested it in the first place."

I glanced around us as if someone could overhear. "Yes, but I don't think this is a normal thing friends do. I crossed a line."

"He agreed," she reminded me. "He had multiple chances to back out."

"We're friends, Iz. How am I supposed to go about and act like nothing happened?"

She tilted her head. "I mean, it's up to both of you. He's discussed it with me over the summer, and I don't think he disliked it."

"Because it was sex," I whispered. "I don't remember the last time he brought a girl over."

Her brows raised. "You didn't see the way he looked at you, Eric. I don't think it was about me."

"He's my friend, Iz. My best friend. That's all he views it as. That night doesn't mean he suddenly is into me or attracted to men in general."

She shrugged. "Have you asked him that? You know attraction can be different for everyone. Not everyone knows who they are quite yet. Maybe Kenji isn't sure, either. Like you said, it's been a while since he's dated anyone seriously."

"He's not—" I stopped myself. He's never alluded to it before. Nor has he denied anything when the team messes around and asks. "It's just, wouldn't I've known by now?"

"Well, from our night together, he wasn't appalled by the idea of sleeping with you, was he? He seemed very interested."

I pursed my lips, willing the memory away. "Iz, please."

"Eric." She leaned over the table. "Do you want to know what he was like this summer? Insufferable. He wouldn't stop asking about you. He didn't ask about me and the girls. He didn't ask about my grandmother or her constant need to adopt the neighborhood cats. Just you."

I didn't dare look up at her.

"He was distraught when you wouldn't answer your phone. More than I was at times. It was always 'What do you think he's doing?', 'Has he messaged you yet?', 'You think he'd be mad if I spontaneously fly out there?'"

The last one made me eye her suspiciously.

"Okay, he didn't ask that one, but I think it did cross his mind. My point is he does care about you. It could be platonic, or romantic, or who knows. But until you talk to him and express where you two stand now, you're just going to make yourself miserable. It won't change what we did, and honestly, I don't regret it. Maybe this is for the best?"

I scoffed. "How can you be so chill about this, Iz? You should be furious. With me, with all of it."

"Why would I be?"

I resisted the urge to bite a hole in my lip. Wasn't it blatantly obvious? "I mean, where should I begin? That I'm basically cheating on you with these...these feelings for him. That I seemed more interested in him that night, that instead of waking up with you in my arms like a normal boyfriend, I had clung to him like a koala all night? Or what do I really have to offer you? I'm never around once the season starts, for starters. I don't have money to spend on gifts or fancy restaurants all the time. None of my family wants to be around me, and they've practically banned me from my savings. The amount of times I couldn't even defend you from their horrible jabs should be criminal. I...I don't even know why you're dating me; I'm not a good boyfriend."

Shame ran through me as I rambled, aware that the neighboring tables probably could overhear and were probably judging me. I wouldn't be surprised if they decided to point their fingers and throw their drinks in my face. Hell, Izzy deserved to have that.

But in Izzy fashion, she calmly rested her hands on mine and squeezed. Her tender touch eased the self-inflicted blight.

"You are a good boyfriend," she said each word like a punch. "And it's not cheating, to me. But I think you need to listen to yourself for a second about your feelings and wants. You've been led to believe that anything different would anger your ancestors and their god, but being 'normal' is overrated. It's a stupid rhetoric, and the things that make us different make us real." She pressed her finger into my chest, not condescending, but in a way that made her words strike through. "Can you imagine if we were put on this earth, as they say, all the exact boring carbon copy?"

Izzy was never shy about her opinions and beliefs of my family's beliefs. Her outspokenness and confidence had me whipped when we were teens. It was, like she said, different. But not abnormal, weird, or devilish, as my mother had once referenced. In ways, my family disrespected her, but I admired how she maturely handled their immaturity. She was willing to understand them, to know that the religious rhetoric they used as a shield and weapon resulted from generations before them.

She had taught me that it didn't excuse their actions and that I had a right to believe in whatever I wanted. I suppose it was a lesson she was still trying to teach me. It was hard to unlearn things shoved down my throat before I could remember.

"God, I'm such an idiot," I moaned.

"No, you're not. It's okay." She squeezed my hands again.

"No, it's not." I pulled my hand back. "It feels like I broke your trust. And his too."

"Eric." She shook her head. "You didn't. I think I've always known you two have a special connection. I don't think that changes how we were nor invalidates what we had, but I can tell that a part of you will always wonder and want to explore something with him. That night must've been terrifying for you, but we've been dating for years, Eric. You never had the chance to explore that part of yourself, and it's okay to want that. It's okay to want to explore your feelings for him and what that might mean. I'm not mad. I could never be mad at you when I'm the one who suggested something with him. I saw you, Eric. I saw what he does to you and how much you enjoyed it—even if it scared you. He is your safe. Just as you are mine and I am to you. I think you've known that for a while, but you need time to grow and learn more, and I'm perfectly fine stepping back and allowing that. I love you, Eric, and I want what's best for you. If that means stepping back and remaining as just a friend, I'm completely okay with that. You deserve to feel validated about your identity, and who am I to stop that? I'll never not support you. You know that."

"You're too good for me," I mumbled. "I love you too."

She smiled. "But you love him too."

I opened my mouth to argue, but I think there was always a part of me that did. At some point, our friendship blossomed and left an impression that couldn't be ignored. It's like Izzy said. I did find Kenji as someone safe. At least enough to have cuddled with him so vulnerably. But it was more than just that. In ways, I saw a future with Izzy and could see that with Kenji, too, if I pushed my reservations aside.

"Eric," she said her words like a balm to my overactive mind. "It's okay."

I swallowed the lump in my throat before giving her a hesitant nod.

"So what does that mean, then?" My words are breathy, as fragile as I think I look in front of her. "We break up?"

"Whatever you want it to mean," she said. "A break, perhaps. Suppose that makes it sound less definitive."

"And you're sure you're okay with this? You know I still love you, but..." My words faltered, but the smile on her face and the way her shoulders were held high, undeterred from any of this, meant I didn't have to explain myself. She nodded as simply as she accepted everything in life.

There shouldn't have been a 'but,' but she pulled the curtains back to reveal more about myself. Like I needed a little light to show a part of myself, I needed to see. Maybe there was something there that night that I needed to work out. Something real and not something I've just been deluding myself into thinking it was wrong.

I didn't know what that meant for us or my friendship with Kenji, but I knew one thing for sure. Izzy was going to be a stellar therapist one day.