“It’s not as big a deal as you’re making it out to be,” Matt says. We learned our lesson last weekend, so now it’s Friday, and I’m at Matt’s house. Sleeping over.
“I’m sorry I’m not braver,” I tell him. Matt wants to take me out on a date, to dinner and a movie, but I can’t. I can’t.
“It’s not like we’d make out at the theater,” he says. “You’d go to dinner and a movie with Alex, no problem, right?”
But Alex isn’t gay.
“I’m not asking you to come out,” Matt reassures me. “That’s not a thing with me. I’m only trying to understand why you’re okay with playing laser tag with me, in public, but not other things.”
Something about the dark, the fog, maybe also the general stereotypical maleness of it? But I don’t know how to say those things out loud.
“You make it look easy,” I say. “But what we do already is a lot for me.”
“I’m not trying to pretend like it’s easy,” Matt says. “But you think it’s like this door you walk through and suddenly you’re on the other side. Out.” He makes jazz hands.
“It feels like that. No turning back.”
“You’re afraid of rumors?” he asks. “That’s all we’re risking, really.”
Yes, because the rumors would be true. I’m afraid of the truth getting out. “I guess. I know it’s kind of shitty of me.” I’m basically saying I don’t want to be seen in public with him. That can’t be fun to hear.
“It’s not,” Matt says. “You deserve to be comfortable about any hint of coming out.”
“I feel like I’m letting you down. Or hurting your feelings.”
“Nah.” He grins. “Invincible, remember?” He plops a gentle kiss on my lips, then goes to his liquor stash.
Ugh. “See? I’m driving you to drink.”
Matt shrugs. “We’re in for the night, right?” he says. “We can stream a movie. It’s no big deal.”
I follow him across the basement, put my arms around him. “I’m not ready. I’m so sorry.”
“So we won’t go. Honestly, it’s better for you right now to keep things as they are. I get that.” He turns toward me, scooping me close and hugging me tight. “This is all I need, too. It was just a thought. I’ve never been on a real date.”
Me either. The thought makes my stomach ache with nervousness and excitement by turns. I’m denying him something he’s waited a long time for, and I hate it.
“How do you turn off the part of you that’s been told a thousand times that it’s wrong?” It comes out like a whisper.
Matt traces my fresh-cut edges with a finger. “It’s not wrong. Everything else we do in life might be wrong, but not this. Not you and me.”