Chapter Eight

School the next week was totally weird. I kept looking for Ronan, and either we were really in sync somehow or he was really good at sensing my energy, because usually he was looking at me, too. I was so preoccupied with Ronan I almost didn't notice that Brad's cast was gone.

I really wanted some word from Mr. Duncan, but all was quiet on the TVA front, right through Friday afternoon. Add to that the fact there was a long weekend coming up, with Presidents Day on Monday, and that I knew Brad and Staci were planning on the Skyline scenic drive in Arkansas, and I was feeling rather at large. I wasn't at all sure enough of myself to see what Ronan was doing. Was it too soon to get together again? Would it look like I was needy or anxious or unsure or any of those things that I'd never bothered myself about with a girl? Those things I knew Brad had felt when he'd started going out with Staci? Those things I thought I'd never feel about anyone?

I was packing up things at my new locker, still paint-free, when I got a text from Ronan.

Do you have plans for tomorrow that would get in the way of a visit to the trees?

My heart sang, my dick jumped; life was good. If you'll be there so will I

Excellent. I'll feed you. Say, one?

Saying yes CU

All of me.

That made my breath catch very pleasantly. Take that, Stu of the Valentine's weekend away! You won't be the only one fornicating.

Evidently Ronan didn't trouble himself with worries about whether he'd seem needy. And I have to say, nothing about what I'd seen from him made him appear needy at all. I gave about two seconds of thought to whether I should do or expect anything special, seeing as how we were getting together on Valentines Day itself, but I decided not.

I would so loved to have let Brad know what I'd be doing on Valentine's Day. But—no. Not yet, anyway. And I knew I should ask Ronan first.

 

 

As I was about to head out of the house Saturday, Mom stopped me.

"Jesse, I'm not asking you where you're going, but I do think it's reasonable for me to know if you'll be back for dinner."

"I will, yes." As far as I knew...

"And tomorrow, would you be able to pick some things up for Monday dinner? Patty and Stu will be back, and they'll have dinner with us."

I was feeling much more generous about my brother's romantic weekend than I had the night I'd learned about it. "Sure. Do you want me to help with the dinner?"

"Well... would you mind doing a roast chicken? The way you make it with the onions and carrots that get all caramelized? I'll make dessert."

I gave her a big grin. "You're expecting an announcement from them, aren't you?"

"I think so, yes." She grinned back.

I turned toward the door. "Roast chicken it is, then. See you later."

"Jesse?" I turned just my head toward her. "You seem happier lately." She paused, and I just kept looking at her, unsure whether to say anything. Then she added, "I'm glad."

The look on her face told me she had at least some idea why my mood had changed. So I smiled at her again and left.

It was pouring rain, and I was very glad I didn't have to ride my bicycle this time. I would, however, need to leave my truck in that pullout across from Woods Way and skirt around the edges of the village itself, on foot, through trees and underbrush. By the time I got close to the treehouse, I was cold and partly drenched despite my hooded rain parka. The smell of wood burning got my attention, and smoke rose from behind the treehouse. Ronan had the wood stove going! Thank the Goddess.

I knocked just to let him know I was there, in case he couldn't follow my energy that closely, and then opened it. He was in a rocker, watching the door, a relaxed smile on his face. I shed my rain parka at the door, and the next thing I knew Ronan's arms were around me.

God! It was the most amazing thing, to just stand there and kiss him. Something pulsed between us, something other than the blood racing around my body. Eventually he pulled away, taking my hand in his, and he led me to the table, where there was incense burning again. It smelled different, but I didn't know what else it would be. So I said, "Frankincense?"

"I’ll tell you later. Sit here." Ronan pointed to the pillow closer to the stove. "You'll warm up quicker." He fetched a pan from the stove and poured hot cider into two beautiful, deep blue mugs on the table. There were forks, too, and glass plates. Beside my plate was something wrapped in thin green paper and tied with brown raffia.

"What's this?"

He smiled. "Valentine's Day present. Don't worry; I didn't want you to get me anything. I'd bought this a while ago and didn't use it, but I think you might."

I waited until he sat across from me and then pulled the raffia and paper off. It was a cookbook about using ingredients you can find in the forests of the US, organized by geography. He'd written on the first page: "To a courageous chef. –R."

"Courageous?"

"Aren't you? I think you are. Griffin says you create your own recipes. You wander into the woods late at night, alone. You defy the conventional wisdom of your family and friends to come to this den of heathens so you can explore something that calls to you, something they aren't likely to understand." He laughed. "And you let a Pagan kiss you, and more." He held his mug toward mine, and we clinked before taking a sip.

"These are gorgeous. These mugs."

"My mom made them. She throws pots."

"'Throws pots?'"

"Makes ceramic things."

"And what have you got in here? It's really good."

"Spices only. Nothing alcoholic." He got up and fetched a straw picnic basket, pulling out sandwiches with lettuce and cold cuts on that terrific bread I'd had at the labyrinth build, as well as tiny tomatoes and cucumber slices.

"Who makes this bread?"

"It's my mom's secret recipe." As he sat down again, he asked, "Isn't Patty Arnold your brother's girlfriend?"

I'd picked up half my sandwich, but his question made me hold it in midair. "Yeah. Actually, he's very likely proposing to her tonight. They're away for a romantic weekend. Why?" And I allowed myself the luxury of a large bite of sandwich. The mustard was unusual, and I held it up to get a good look at a tiny blob that was trying to escape from the bread, almost missing Ronan's answer.

"Patty came to visit my mother about a month ago. My mom knows wortcunning. Do you know what that is?" I nodded, and he looked like he wasn't sure he believed me, but he went on. "Patty wanted a potion. I don’t know what it was for." And he took a huge bite from his own sandwich.

I let this information sink into my brain. What kind of potion might Patty have wanted? Maybe a love potion? Something to make Stu propose? Whatever. "Is there anything your mom can't do?"

Ronan chuckled. "Not much." He took a sip of cider and asked, "How did you end up coming out? To the people who know, that is."

"I told Brad first. He was pretty cool, actually. Told my folks next, and then my dad told my brother. Kind of ugly. Mom's doing her best. And then, well... I kept expecting more kids at school to know. After my locker got painted. You heard about that?"

"Griffin told me."

"I scrubbed off what those assholes had painted and sprayed 'GAY' in purple, instead."

He held onto the cucumber slice he'd picked up, but his hand landed on the table edge. "Wait—you did that? You painted 'gay' on your own locker?"

I teased, "You mean, you didn't just know that?"

"Very funny. No, I didn't. That was—I don't know what that was. Brave? Stupid?"

"Whatever. In any case, it seems Ivy Gilman, in her office assistant role, was the one who moved my stuff to a new locker. She saw the can of paint I'd left there, but she didn't tell anyone. So at this point, I'm not sure who at school knows about me and who doesn't. Though Brad tells me the football team knows. Oh, by the way, Ivy tells me she's seeing Griffin. You did that?"

He just grinned and popped a baby tomato into his mouth.

I sent the last of my sandwich on its way to my stomach. Then, "Listen, um, I'm not sure whether it would be appropriate to tell Brad anything about—well, about being with you. I don't really know that I would, but if I did, would that be okay with you?"

"You said he was okay with your being gay. But I'm more than just some guy you've had sex with. I'm a 'freak.'"

"Don't say that. And anyway, I've also told Brad about working on the labyrinth, and about how I can't go into the village again. He was interested. Wanted to see the labyrinth himself, though that seems unlikely now. But anyway, I think he could handle that I like a guy from the village. If it's a problem, though, I won't. Absolutely."

"Let me give that some thought." Ronan rubbed his hands over his face. "Jesse, I want so much for the day to come when you don't have to worry about anyone keeping things to themselves. I want you to have the freedom in your life that I have in mine."

So he was out at home, anyway; no surprise there. "Well, hell, Ronan. I want both of us to have that freedom in each other's world."

I stood, and he did, too, and then we we're hugging, then we we're kissing, and before long we were on that mattress on the other side of the tree, naked and under the covers this time. After the first… well, the first excitement was over for each of us, he got up and went over to the same messenger bag he'd brought last time. I watched his body, the smooth, supple movements, the way his ass moved, and on the way back the way his dick moved, how the dark hair stood out against his pale skin. He had a long feather with him, peacock, I think. How appropriate. And a towel. He spread that on the bed and then told me to lie face down on it.

"Close your eyes," he said.

Man, the shivers he gave me! He used the feather, he used his mouth and his teeth, and I swear he used his own hard dick a few times. I never knew where he'd touch me or with what, and then he flipped me over and did it some more until I couldn't stand it. Then we were on our sides, facing each other, kissing, each of us with our hands on the other's dick. Then his laughing started, and we made this rich cum soup, contributing almost at the same instant.

Ronan balled up the towel, dropped it on the floor, and then pulled the covers over us. He curled against me, under my arm, and as I was dozing off it occurred to me that Ronan had done this before. Even last time, it had seemed as though he knew what to expect, he knew what he wanted, he was familiar with what was going on. I was tempted to ask him about this, but I was too sleepy. And I wasn't really sure I wanted to know.

He woke me up by pinching my tits. "Haven't you had enough sex for one day?" I teased.

"There's no such thing."

We kissed for a while, but then things calmed down. The wind had picked up, and I could feel the treehouse swaying a little. Ronan got up to put another log into the stove, and again I watched him move. He was so sultry, just like a cat. Just like a cougar.

When he climbed in beside me again he said, "My alarm is set for four. If we really fall asleep, that should leave us enough time for a little more activity."

"You're oversexed, you know."

"Mmmm. And you love it. By the way, the incense today is patchouli."

The aphrodisiac scent. This gave me an odd rush. I mean, we didn't really know much of anything about each other, but here we were in bed. Kissing, fucking, you name it. This person was a total mystery to me, and I felt the need to solve at least a little of it. But where to start? I didn't exactly want to ask his favorite color or what movies he'd seen lately. This is Ronan, the Pagan, the sexy heathen. I said, "Can I ask you something?"

His eyes were closed, his words muffled and slow. "I've just had my tongue in your mouth and you want to know if you can ask me something."

I took that as permission. "That cougar on the table over there. Somehow that's about you, isn't it?"

That got his attention. He looked closely at my face. "What makes you ask that?"

I'd been thinking I wouldn’t talk about what I'd seen in the lake that day, but maybe it was the only way to explain. So I did, but with no details—only that I'd been thinking about the village when I saw the eyes.

He sat up. "Have you ever heard of scrying?"

I gave a little snort. "Is this another way to have sex, or something?" I was thinking that would make him laugh, but it didn't.

"Scrying is when you use some object or pattern to open a door for the spirit world to speak to you. To tell you something, or guide you in some way. Some folks see it more as your own subconscious rising to the surface and telling you something you already know but can't put your finger on. Usually you'd start with a question. What were you thinking about, specifically, when you saw the cougar in the water?"

There was no use beating about the bush at this point. "You."

We stared into each other's eyes for several seconds. Then something heavy landed on the roof and rolled, and we both jumped. Ronan laughed nervously. "It's just a falling branch." Then, "What were you thinking about me?"

"I was trying to figure out why I'm so interested in this place, and I was thinking about the people I knew best. When I thought of you, that’s when I saw the eyes. Then later, when you brought me here, I saw the cougar on the table, and when I turned toward you there was this—this weird look in your eyes, like you were a big cat, and you were trying to decide whether to rip my throat out or turn and leave."

Ronan was quiet for a bit, and then he said, "You would have to do something really awful at this point for me to rip your throat out."

"Okay, but I'd kinda hoped you were gonna say that you would never do it." Again, when I expected him to laugh, or at least smile, he didn't.

"Maybe we'll get there. Not yet."

I had to set that aside. "So… the cougar?"

He pulled a blanket around himself and sat with his back to the wall, knees up, arms around them, and watched my face. "If you've never heard of scrying, have you ever heard of power animals?"

"No. And—see, this is the sort of stuff that makes me feel like that stolen child song isn't so far away from what you are."

He shook his head. "No. There's a huge middle ground, and working with the connection between the physical and spiritual worlds is in it. For us it's a believe system, Jesse, not some kind of alternate universe. And you don't even have to be a Pagan to know about power animals, or to scry, or to sense someone's energy. There are Christian people who work with power animals, and do all the same things we do here."

This blew my mind, but it wasn't what I wanted to focus on at the moment. "So, about the cougar. Is that, like, your power animal? It's powerful, that's for sure."

"The power of a power animal has nothing to do with physical size or strength. Someone could have Mouse for a power animal. Its power is to pay attention to every detail of life and be able to figure out very quickly which things are important, which are necessary, and which are dangerous. Sometimes you might have more than one power animal. But usually you have a primary one. And—well, it's a very personal thing, to talk about your power animal."

He stopped; I thought he'd go on. I wanted him to go on. So I said, "You've just had your tongue in my mouth, and you don't want me to know what your power animal is?"

This time he laughed. "Think of it this way. Sex is something that's possible to do with someone else and keep the intimacy purely on a physical level. That's important, but the inner levels of who we are? They're more intimate. Much more."

This hurt, actually, and I remembered that he'd referred to himself as some guy I was having sex with. "Are you saying that what we have is only physical? Because it's not for me."

He smiled. "No. It's not for me, either. I'm falling in love with you, Jesse Bryce. I'm not there yet, but I can feel it getting closer."

This hit me hard, in a good way. "So when you finally love me you won't ever rip my throat out, and you'll tell me what your power animal is?"

He laughed, but he still didn't say anything. We lay side by side, holding hands, and just before I fell asleep I heard him say, "Cougar is my power animal."

 

 

So of course, back at home in the evening, I spent some time researching power animals in general and Cougar in particular (it appears each animal is referred to as though the kind of animal is also it’s name, and it’s capitalized). And what I read about Cougar was spot-on with what I knew about Ronan.

Cougar people’s boundaries are very clear, and if you cross one you’ll know immediately. They’re great at camouflage, and they tend to watch things from a distance, even under cover, before they decide whether to take action. Cougar’s roar is blood-curdling, and non-Cougar people tend to avoid making Cougar people roar. Cougar people need space—emotional and otherwise—and they’ll choose to be with someone who respects that. Once they find this person, they tend to stay with them. And this point I really liked: When Cougar is happy, the purr is wonderful.

There was no way Ronan wouldn’t have Cougar for his power animal. It made me even more fascinated by him. And a little afraid.

 

 

My roast chicken dinner was well on its way to being ready when Stu and Patty showed up around five on Monday. I was really looking forward to this dinner; I wanted Patty to be officially on her way to becoming my sister-in-law.

I wasn't disappointed. Stu had even bought an engagement ring, with a diamond—a small one, but still—in what Stu called a channel setting, which left room for more diamonds in the future. Patty was over the moon, and so was Mom. Dad was grinning a lot, not saying much, patting Stu on the back every now and again. Stu and Patty had already stopped by to tell her folks.

Patty raved about my roast chicken and even asked for the recipe, joking that she'd need to take cooking more seriously now that she was going to be a married lady.

Mom couldn't resist getting a plug in for grandchildren: "And a mother soon after, I hope!"

Once the engagement conversation was exhausted, there was a lull. Maybe it was my new-found romance, or maybe it was this TVA idea hanging over my head and waiting to drop, maybe it was both. Whatever the source, almost without knowing what I was going to say I blurted this out: "Say, has anyone heard of porphyria?"

I saw a bunch of blank stares, and then Dad said, "Wait… I saw that. On CSI. Crime Scene Investigation. The one in Las Vegas. It was an old episode, and this girl had it. She sicced her dog on joggers, and when they were dead she drained their blood so she could drink it."

Leave it to Dad to come up with something criminal. But at least he'd replied to me, which made a break from the near-silence between us since I'd come out.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!" Mom said. "We're at the table! Jesse, why would you bring that up now? Or at all?"

I shrugged. "Schoolwork. Something about how King George might have had it."

Patty said, "That's right! I remember that. Though I think they decided he didn't, after all."

I didn't want to get too far away from my agenda. "There was someone in the village who had it. That's how all the vampire stories got started. But he never really drank anyone's blood. He got medical treatment, not truly-bloody Mary cocktails."

Suddenly I had everyone's attention. Everyone's silent attention. I looked from face to face, wondering where I should go from here, or if I should just shut up. Then Dad said, "How would you know that, Jesse?" His tone was heavy, like there was a lot riding on my answer.

I hadn't thought this far ahead, but somehow I landed on something that was at least reasonable. "I do go to school with kids from the village, you know. And it came up when we were discussing King George." Lies and more lies. Someday this would have to work itself out.

"Anyway," I added to try and get back on track, "that man died a while ago, and no one else in the village has it. So it makes them kind of mad when people call them vampires. And it makes them mad when they get blamed for killing animals, too, because even if someone had porphyria, they couldn't drink animal blood."

Stu said, "How do you know no one else there has it?"

Good question. How did I know? Then I remembered the sunlight issue, and I called on the research I'd done. "People who have porphyria can't stand sunlight. It's an inherited condition, and that man had no children. All the kids at school from the village are there in the daylight, and I don't know of anyone who doesn't go outside." They seemed unconvinced. So I tried again. "And anyway, that lady on CSI was fiction. People with porphyria don't go around harvesting blood. They can get medicines, and they can get transfusions." And one last shot: "There's no such thing as vampires, anyway."

"I should hope not," Mom said. "Now, can we talk about something else, please?"

Stu was not quite ready to let it go, though. "They could have other reasons for killing animals, you know. What about that cat last Halloween?"

I couldn't let that go by. "That was almost certainly done by Chuck Armstedt, or Lou Dwyer, or both. I saw them cornering a black cat just before Halloween. Griffin Holyoke stopped them. He took the cat."

"That proves it!" Stu was almost shouting. "His initials were written in the cat's blood."

"That's stupid! He'd have to be an idiot to sign his initials to that. Besides, I know Griffin still has that cat. He named it New Moon."

Now Mom got into the act. "And you know this how?"

I didn't have to lie about this one. "Remember I told you I'd gone to the village after Mr. Ward was killed? I saw Griffin, and that cat."

Dad's voice rose above those of Mom and Stu, who both tried to respond to that. "I think we've had enough talk about those people. Let's not derail our celebration."

When it was time to clear the table, which Mom and I usually did, Patty said, "Mrs. Bryce—"

Mom interrupted her. "Oh, Patty, it's 'Diane' to you, please."

Patty actually blushed. "Diane, then, please stay where you are. Jesse and I will clear tonight."

"But the dinner was in your honor!"

"And I'm honored. So if it's my dinner, this is what I choose. Come, Jesse." She smiled at me and jerked her head a little toward the sink. To everyone else, she said, "Talk amongst yourselves."

As soon as conversation at the table picked up a little, Patty turned to me and, very quietly, said, "Jesse, how are things going with you? Are you okay at home?"

I knew she meant about coming out. I shrugged. "About like you'd expect."

"Would you like to talk sometime, just the two of us?"

I almost answered no, thanks anyway, but something stopped me. "Sure. Nothing urgent, though. I'm fine. Really." Maybe we'd connect, maybe we wouldn't. But if she could give me any more indication of what Stu was thinking about my situation, that might be good to know.

 

 

Per Mom's policy for dinner, I'd left my phone in my room. When I got upstairs after the meal, I saw Ronan had texted me about an hour earlier.

It's fine to tell Brad if you're sure he'll be cool about it.

I knew this was a response to my question of letting Brad know I had a boyfriend from the village. I replied, Thanks I'll let you know if I do.

I sat in front of my PC, knowing I had homework to finish but unable to think of anything other than telling Brad about Ronan. It was more than just "I can't wait to tell someone." It was a lot more than that. It was about being honest with Brad, and it was a test for him. Would he, in fact, still be cool with my being gay if it meant there was actually someone in the picture for me? Or was he one of those "Just don't make me see the reality of it" people?

Also, I still felt like I was holding things back from Brad, not telling him about the TVA yet. And telling him about Ronan was telling him something important. So I texted him an invite to meet me at The Pig for some fun news.

Never mind that I'd had dessert at home; each of us ordered a sundae. Then Brad asked, "So what's this news, anyway?"

I didn't start with my own news. "Just had Patty over for dinner. She and Stu were away for the weekend, and when they got back she had a ring."

"They're engaged?"

"Sure are."

"You like Patty, right? I mean, as a sister-in-law?"

"Yeah. She's great."

Our ice cream arrived, and of course we had to get started on that before anything else was said. Before I could go on with my other news, Brad scooped me.

"I have some news of my own, actually. I've made a decision. Just today, really. Been thinking about it a long time. I haven't told my folks this yet, so don't go blabbing to anyone. But I don't think I want to go to college."

I was surprised, and I wasn't. I'd kind of hoped we could go to the same school, but I'd known better than to hope very hard. "You have something else in mind, or you just don't want to go to college?"

"Truth? I wanna take the courses Stu took. I wanna work on engines."

His eyes were on his spoon as he poked at the melting ice cream, but this was heavy stuff, for both of us. Not for the first time, it occurred to me that my father would have preferred Brad over me as his son.

I sat back, hands on the table, and gave him the best smile I could muster. "Then that's what you should do."

I waited to see if he had anything else to say about that, but he just said, "I might. I just might. Yeah. Mum's the word for now, though." And he dug into what was left in his dish.

"I'll keep your secret if you'll keep the one I'm about to tell you. Don't you owe me about now, anyway? Or were we already even?"

He looked right at me and grinned. "Best friends are never even."

"Agreed. So my news is—God, I'm not sure I can say this out loud. But—I have a boyfriend."

His spoon dropped. "You what?"

I let a few beats go by; did I hear negativity in his tone? I couldn't be sure one way or the other. "It's a guy from the village, actually." I paused to see if he had anything to say.

"Don't keep me in suspense. What are you waiting for? Who is it?"

All good. I heaved a sigh of relief. "Ronan Coulter."

And there was more silence. Then, "Dude... Ronan Coulter? Really?"

I was pissed. "Don't bowl me over with your enthusiastic support."

He breathed out through his nose. "Sorry. Are you gonna tell me you have to get to know him before you like him?"

"Yeah. It's true. He's edgy, and a little intense. But Brad, I really like him. And he really likes me."

Another pause. "You're sure? I mean, that he likes you the way you like him?"

What the... I didn't want there to be any doubt. "Oh, yeah. We've been down that road. More than once. And we'll go down it again."

"Really."

"Um, what the hell, Brad?"

"It's just—don't you remember that he used to be with that girl Adara? What was her name... Farrow. From the village. A year older than us."

My entire world went blank, and it felt like my brain was trying to pass a stone. "He had a girlfriend?"

"Sure did. She died in that tornado a year ago April."

I scrambled to push this information aside. "Well, whoever he was with last year, he's with me, now."

"Maybe he's bi. Not gay."

"Maybe. Anyway, we're together." Even I could sense the anticlimax.

"Jesse, I—well, sorry if I seemed unimpressed, or something. I'm real happy for you. I can't imagine what it must be like not to be able to talk about something like this. I mean, when I decided I liked Staci and she agreed to go out with me? It's like I wanted everyone to know. I wanted to shout it from the rooftops: 'Staci Thompson likes Brad Everett!' And you can't say a fucking thing to anyone you can't trust to keep it under wraps. Fuck that shit, man! I just can't get there in my head. It must piss you off royally."

Suddenly it struck me hard how much I had bought into the need to hide. I'd accepted it so thoroughly that it hadn't even occurred to me to be pissed. Brad was right. "One of these days, in a galaxy far, far away, people will be cool with who I am."

"I know you'll go to college. I bet you'll be able to branch out, there."

"God, I hope so."

 

 

I didn't remember anything about the drive home. Ronan had a girlfriend. It kept repeating in my brain. Back in my room, I sat there staring at my phone. And staring at it. And staring at it. I was trying so, so hard not to feel pain. Telling your best friend you have a boyfriend and then having him say, Well what about that girl last year? How the fuck was I going to recover from that?

When Griffin had told me about his sister being bi, it had made sense that she was with Parker, because Parker was kind of both male and female in an odd sort of way. But if bi people want everything, how would I ever mean as much to Ronan as he means to me? And was I in love with the guy yet? He'd told me he was falling for me. And, yeah, okay, I've fallen for him. But how can that mean much to him? I can't give him what he wants. Not all of it.

And if I can't, then Adara couldn't have, either. So what did that mean?

I couldn't stand it. I had to know more.

Ronan answered on the second ring. "Jesse." His tone was low and sexy.

"Hey. Um, I heard something I gotta ask you about, 'cause it's confusing me."

"All right." The tone was flat, now; he was on guard.

"Didn't you have a girlfriend last year?"

Slowly, he said, "Yes."

"But—"

"Are you asking me if I'm bisexual?"

"Yeah. That's what I'm asking."

"I am."

That took my breath away. I needed a few seconds to recover before I said, "What does that mean for us?"

"I don't understand the question."

My voice wanted to get louder, but I was afraid of being overheard. So instead, I nearly hissed. "Look, Ronan, I'm gay. That means when I love a guy, he's exactly what I want. But when you're with a guy, he's only half of what you want."

Ronan's laughter took me completely by surprise. "I'm sorry, Jesse, I didn't mean to laugh. But that's not what it means to be bi. See, it's just—Okay, here's the thing. I can be fully and passionately in love with a girl, or I can be fully and passionately in love with a guy. I'm not the sort of person who wants more than one 'significant other,' so for me—and, I'm going to venture to say, for all bi people—a relationship with a girl or a guy could be the same for me as your relationship with a guy could be, for you. I don't need both, I just need the right person. Do you understand?"

"Well... that's not what I thought."

"Yeah, I think a lot of people have the wrong idea. But, Jesse, I want just one person. Adara was great. Really great. I'll never know how far we might have gotten. Maybe we'd already be broken up by now. And maybe you and I won't be together in a year. But if that's true, it won't be because I'm bi. Unless you make it about that."

Even though I knew I'd need to spend some time thinking about this, I'd started to breathe normally again by this point. So I was able to say, "I won't. I'm not sure I get it, exactly, but I believe you."

"That's good enough for now. Um, what brought it to your attention?"

"You said I could tell Brad about you, so I did. And he remembered about Adara."

"How was he? I mean, about us?"

"He was pretty cool, actually. He has a lot of sympathy for how we need secrecy when he doesn't."

"I don't need secrecy. And—you need secrecy? You're the one who painted 'Gay' on your own locker.'"

"Yeah, but no one knows about that except Mrs. Knapp. And anyway, even if the other kids know I'm gay, that's different from seeing us walking down the hall holding hands."

"Which we couldn't do anyway, because of the town hating the grove."

I came so close—so close!—to telling Ronan about the TVA. But I didn't. "Ronan, you know what I mean. What Brad means. If we were both from the grove or the town, we still couldn't do it without getting murdered."

"True. All right, I give Brad a gold star for his empathy. I really do appreciate it, especially for your sake."

We spent another couple of minutes planning our next meeting, and Ronan suggested another treetop tryst. But Brad's comment had got me thinking about what dating relationships look like out there in the real world.

I said, "Here's an idea. Now, don't get me wrong, I'd love to be alone with you in the trees. But what if, before that, we do something like a double date with Griffin and Ivy? A movie, or dinner, or something. We'd have to go out of town, for sure, but they're already doing that. What do you think?"

"Wow. That sounds... Are you trying to be normal, Jesse?"

All I could do was echo the word, "Normal?"

"Which one of us should ask the other out? Which one should pay for dinner? Who drives? Who makes the first move?"

"Hey, I think I just asked you out. Look, I don't have everything all figured out, okay? I just feel like—well, all right, I feel like maybe I'd like to at least nod in the direction of normal. What's wrong with that?"

"Well, okay, let me think about that." He seemed reluctant, and I couldn't figure why.

"You don't sound enthusiastic."

"It's just that I've never done that before."

"What, double date?"

"Yeah."

"Aha! Something I've done that you haven't."

Ronan laughed, and I felt better immediately. He said, "I'll talk to Griffin, okay?"

"Great. And even if that doesn't work out, we always have the trees."

"We do."

 

 

Ivy approached me at my locker Tuesday after school. "Got a sec for me?"

"Sure."

She looked around to be sure we wouldn't be overheard. "I understand we're double dating on Saturday."

OMG. Ronan did it! He asked Griffin! And he never said a word. Maybe he was going to call me later. I grinned at Ivy. "Had you guessed? About us?"

She laughed. "No way! But I love it. We'll have a blast." And she nearly bounced off.

Ronan did call me after dinner. I told him, "Yeah, Ivy surprised me with the news. I, uh... thanks, Ronan. I know this wasn't what you had in mind."

His tone teasing, he said, "For you, Jesse, anything. To quote Elwood P. Dowd in Harvey, 'I'd almost be willing to live my live over again.' I'll expect appropriate compensation when I get you alone afterward."

Which, of course, made me want him even more than I already did. It also made it that much harder to pay no attention to him at school. This secrecy was maddening. But it didn't stop me from following him with my eyes. It wasn't until I looked back on this week later that it struck me, but never once after Tuesday was he looking back at me.