As Friday night rolled around, I found myself scrolling Instagram while laying in bed. Of course, Josh's account came up as a recommendation for me to follow.
I clicked on it and scrolled through his photos. Most of them were of him and Charlotte or of Josh playing soccer. However, the last picture he had posted was a selfie of them from June, shortly before Charlotte's suicide.
Regardless of whether or not they were dating, it was clear from the pictures that the two of them were undeniably close. My heart broke for Josh, as well as for Charlotte and her family.
I debated following Josh for a while. At this point, what did I have to lose? Even if he wasn't into me, we could still be friends.
Finally, after doing a bit of mental olympics, I clicked the follow button.
Too nervous to wait and see if he followed me back, I put my phone on my nightstand and rolled over to sleep.
When my alarm went off for work the next morning, the first thing I did was check my notifications. And there it was: josh.brooks15 started following you.
Okay, so he didn't entirely hate me. I had to restrain myself from immediately messaging him.
***
When I got to work, I expected Liv to be there waiting for me to use my discount on her, but I didn't see her. I had told her after school yesterday that I wasn't going to go to homecoming. She said it was fine and that she understood, but her absence made me wonder whether she'd downplayed her disappointment.
As the morning rush subsided, I found myself lost in thought, my fingers absentmindedly tapping against the countertop.
I almost didn't notice when Josh approached the counter, his tousled hair and casual charm sending a ripple of both nervousness and a cringe-worthy amount of pining through me.
"Uh, I have a pickup order for Sharon Brooks." Josh looked past me as he spoke.
I hated how he made me so completely disoriented. Did he hate me? Wait, no, he wouldn't have followed me back if he did. Did he fear me because I knew his secret? Would he reveal my secret? Why did he smell so good? How did his hair look both messy and perfect at the same time?
I realized, then, that I had just been staring at him, unresponsive. "Sorry, yeah. Um...let me go see if it's ready."
I went to go find it, my face flushed. After I brought it up, Josh handed me a credit card to pay. When I went to grab it, our hands brushed.
Did he also feel the spark, or was I manifesting something that would never happen?
Josh cleared his throat as I swiped the card. He was visibly uncomfortable, with his eyes darting around and his feet shuffling. I hoped I wasn't as obvious.
When I gave him the card back, I couldn't stop myself from saying, "Sorry."
"For what?" Josh mumbled, still refusing to meet my eyes, as he grabbed the coffees.
"For annoying you, I guess," I muttered, wishing I hadn't said anything to begin with.
"You're not annoying, Connor."
Before I could say anything in response, he turned and walked out the door.
As much as I hated to see him go, I loved to watch him leave.
***
On Sunday morning, I found myself sitting in church with my parents as usual.
In case you're wondering, this wasn't one of those new age churches with pride flags and shit, telling newcomers everyone's welcome; my family's church was very traditionally Catholic. Each parishioner was silent, except for the oldest lady you've ever seen singing hymns off-key.
Everyone was bored and miserable, especially me.
The priest began the Universal Prayer, which was basically a series of prayers for either specific people or specific things. For whatever reason, they often involved social issues like abortion, and were sometimes clearly pointed towards certain people in the congregation.
This time, the last prayer our priest said was perhaps a jab at the Hastings kid my parents mentioned the other week: "For those who defy God's wishes by committing homosexual acts, may they turn to God for his love and forgiveness. Let us pray to the lord."
As I said, "Lord hear our prayer" along with everyone else, a tiny piece of myself silently broke apart.