That evening, I finally replied to Josh's message, where he apologized for the other day. I sent, It's fine. Don't worry about it.
Then, he replied, No, I shouldn't have reacted like that. I know you were just being nice.
I thought about Miles, but only for a moment before responding, I just wanted you to know I'm here for you. Even if you don't like me back. I then sent him my phone number, "just in case he ever needed it," but my true reasoning was less than altruistic.
I thought back to that night in the hospital and cringed. I probably seemed like a desperate boy with a crush to Josh, someone who also doesn't know how to mind their own business. I should have just left well enough alone.
But then Josh messaged back and said, You call me on my bullshit. I respect that, but you really don't know anything.
My mind reeled. What the hell did that mean? Why couldn't he just, for once, say what he wanted to say without being so damn ambiguous?
What don't I know? Explain it to me like I'm five, I replied.
It wouldn't matter even if I did. We're here, and nothing ever changes here. We can be friends, but that's all we can ever be.
Message received. I closed out of Instagram and texted Miles.
***
On Monday, I aced the physics test. Liv had gotten a B, which was decent for her in STEM classes.
I had also finished all of my college applications except for twoâBerkeley and the University of Michigan.
Miles and I talked more frequently that week. We decided to hangout again that Friday. I was actually hesitant to say yes; while I liked Miles and enjoyed his company the other day, I knew that 1) I was not entirely over Josh, and 2) I couldn't be open about being gay like Miles was, neither of which was entirely fair to him.
During Spanish on Thursday, Jake invited me to attend the final soccer game of the season, Clareview vs. Aspen Heights, which took place on Saturday. Of course, I immediately thought of Josh, how impossible it was to separate myself from him lately.
But I thought, then, if I could stop myself from trying to do anything, including going to a soccer game I didn't care to watch, just to be near Josh, maybe I'd feel like I had some semblance of control over my life. At the time, I didn't know how futile all of my efforts would prove to be.
So, like a liar, I replied, "Uh, I have plans."
"C'mon, dude," Jake said, an exasperated tone to his voice. "Lydia, Ben, and Sophia are going, too, and probably Liv if you go. Why does it feel like trying to piss with a boner to get you to hang out with us anymore?"
I side-eyed him at his crass simile. "Maybe because you say shit like 'trying to piss with a boner.'"
Jake punched my arm, just hard enough that it made me flinch. "Just come."
I sighed, and, in spite of myself, said, "Okay, fine. I'll be there."
***
Friday evening at around 7, I found myself back in Miles's room, watching Paris is Burning for the first time. According to Miles, this was part of my "gay-ducation."
Miles and I held hands, and I appreciated he didn't mention how sweaty my hands were. Shortly after the movie ended, Miles looked at me and asked, "Can I kiss you?"
I looked at him, my gaze trailing down to his lips. "Yeah."
Miles pulled me into him, pressing his lips against mine. He held my face in his hands as we moved our lips in sync with each other. I felt his tongue against mine, and a rush of warmth spread throughout my body.
But then I started having all of those doubts creep up on me, only these doubts were bigger. I started questioning why Miles even wanted to be with me. Was he just lonely? Was he actually attracted to me? Did he want to go out with me?
Then, I asked myself whether or not I truly wanted to be with him or if I just wanted to feel like I wasn't so alone.
Miles pulled away and studied my face with a look of concern. "Are you okay?'
You know when you're on the verge of a complete breakdown, barely holding yourself together, and then someone asks if you're okay and you just completely lose it? Well, that was what happened next.
"Hey, what's up?" Miles asked as I buried my face in my hands and started audibly crying. He pulled me into his side and rubbed my back. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No," I said in between sobs. "It's not...you. I'm sorry."
Miles kept rubbing my back. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm of the personal opinion that men should cry at least once a week to avoid becoming repressed assholes."
We sat like that for a while, me letting all of my emotions out while Miles comforted me, until I finally stopped crying.
"Do you want to tell me what's going on?" Miles asked.
I stared at the seat of the futon, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry. This is...embarrassing. I'm just...I'm really confused." I sniffled.
"Please tell me you're not confused about whether or not you like men," Miles joked. "That'd be a major blow to my self-esteem."
"No," I said, letting out a short laugh. "No, I just...I guess I recently sort of kissed someone. Or, well, he kissed me. I mean, I really do like you, and I like how open you are about being gay, and you're really nice and cute. This other guy, he doesn't even want anything to do with me. Like, he's kind of been through some shit, butâ"
"Connor," Miles cut off my rambling. He gave me a soft smile. "I get it. You're not over this other guy."
"Honestly, I'm really fucking sorry," I told him, wiping my eyes. "I don't even think he likes me."
"Yet...he kissed you?" Miles raised his eyebrows at me.
"He was drunk?" I offered, kind of shrugging.
"Nah, this guy is definitely into you. Usually alcohol just amplifies what you already think and feel."
I bit my lip, not saying anything.
"Connor, why don't you take some time to figure out what you want?"
I didn't understand how Miles could've been so understanding. Here we were, making out, and then I basically told him I was into someone else. I left his house feeling guilty, embarrassed, and confused.
What did I want? I wanted to be someone else. Or I wanted to live in a world where I didn't have to want to be someone else.
I could think about the future all I wantedâa future where I didn't live around here and I had other gay friends and people who understood me. A future where I could be myself and just exist. But this was now, and I was fucking miserable being me.
I wanted to be able to scream out into the world, "This is who I am! Screw everyone who has a problem with it!"
But I couldn't. Or maybe I could and I was just too scared to do it.
So, instead, when I got home I opened up my laptop and pulled up the document with all of my college application essays. There was one essay prompt for the University of Michigan that I hadn't written anything for yet:
"Everyone belongs to many different communities and/or groups defined by (among other things) shared geography, religion, ethnicity, income, cuisine, interest, race, ideology, or intellectual heritage. Choose one of the communities to which you belong, and describe that community and your place within it."
I stared at the document for a while, then finally began typing: Though the LGBTQ community doesn't know it yet, I am a part of it.
After I typed out 300 words, I submitted the application and tried not to think about the fact I was so desperate to be seen that I had just come out to a university that was probably going to reject me anyway.