Asher Samuels had seemed to become the bane of my existence. 

He had become the subject of my innermost thoughts after his introduction in Creative Writing, leaving me reeling from the feelings that were a product of those thoughts. His presence felt like an invasion, disrupting the structured life and mindset I had tried so hard to build, feeling like my life had become shambles at this point. The anxiety of the millions of thoughts that ran through my mind didn’t help, closing my eyes for a brief second so I could shoo the thoughts away before my slowly rising panic could set in. 

I remember the concerned face of Gage as we had driven home the day before, my will to carry on conversation had escaped me at the time, the worry evident, but he knew better than to press it. Before I had gotten out of his car, he had given me a tight hug reassuring me that whatever plagued my mind would be gone soon enough, but my brain did something I did not expect. 

It became a conflicted mess. 

My emotions were now a tangled mesh that I felt would never become what they once were. I was so confused on what it meant for me, what it meant when it came to my identity, the one thing that had been swept under the rug for the majority of my life. My sexuality never defined me in the past, it was always something I had put on the back burner to figure out later in life. My focus had always been my academics, the one thing I could control in a definite way, a definite I knew would determine the outcome of my foreseeable future. But now that aspect of my life—my sexuality—was something I couldn't see in my future, mainly because I had no outcome for it, no way of knowing what would happen once I was able to fully define myself. 

I was scared.

Scared, because there would be an endless amount of possibilities that lie on the end of the personal journey I had put off for so long. For the first time in my life I felt what could only be described as fear, anxiety and surprisingly frustration, emotions that I had no experience with; emotions that felt unfamiliar. I guess you could say it was possibly going to be the start of many firsts for me, things I knew would leave me uncomfortable until I overcame them. I wasn’t ready. 

My eyes opened to the sight of Mrs. MacDonnell informing the class of our next classic novel to consume until the end of November—Wuthering Heights. The cover looked ominous, a large manor covered in darkness by an impending storm as a cloaked figure walked up a beaten path towards the mysterious home. Mrs. MacDonnell talked with a twinkle in her eye, describing it as a drama-filled romance novel with the cruel Catherine and the dark and brooding Heathcliff. 

“God, Mrs. MacDonnell you look like you're swooning over that book pretty hard” Ulyssa spoke out, “Should we give the both of you some alone time?”

The class erupted in laughter at her outburst, my face remaining impassive at her words, “Ulyssa, once you read this, you’ll understand the intense love I have for this book. I wrote my thesis in college over this masterpiece, the gothic style romance was something that won me over when I was young.”

Mrs. MacDonnell looked flustered as she explained herself, to my surprise, the word ‘gothic’ catching my attention. The change in tone from our previous read to what she presented us seemed to intrigue the other students, leaving me and Ulyssa wondering what elements of the novel could have caused the reaction that it did in our teacher.

“What aspect of this novel catches your fancy Mrs. MacDonnell” I spoke without thinking, noticing that everyone looked at me with questioning looks, “I mean, how does this novel differ from the other novels that you have in store for us this year?”

“Good question Tristan” She beamed, the light from behind her eyes making an appearance once more, “The elements of romance in this novel transcend the norms of the time period it was in, yet it shares both a happy and sad ending. It shows that even though love and progress through time can break barriers, it can also be cruel and unyielding to a generation that refused to change even though newer generations accepted it.”

Me, along with the rest of the class, looked at her with amazement, her description catching all of us off guard due to it being unexpected. When she had mentioned the cruelty of love, I felt something tremble within my core, something that I had become all too familiar with over the last few months. Unrequited love was something that made my skin itch, yet the situation between Gage and I was far from unrequited—I hoped it stayed far away from that definition— because hopefully the feelings were mutual. It's what kept me sane the last few weeks, waiting for his answer to our situation and what our situation could really mean. 

Hope.

Gage’s actions, the touches, the hugs, the soft looks, and the fact that he knew me better than I knew myself at times, only cemented my belief that something was there. That my love for my best friend went beyond the norms of a regular friendship between two guys, there was no denying it. I knew once we were able to talk about these possible growing feelings that everything would change; that everything would become different. I could only hope that he would be with me as we embraced and experienced the difference together, allowing for everyone to follow our example and help us. In all honesty, I didn’t know what to expect once we talked and it worried me. 

“So does that mean it's going to be a sappy love story?” Edmund asked, looking concerned with the possibility.

A few students chuckled, Edmund looking around nervously as he lowered his hand. I looked at him, seeing the awkwardness of his composure due to the fact that he asked a question that could make the others view him differently, especially his questioning of the love story that was Wuthering Heights.

Mrs. MacDonnell smiled at him, “That’s one way of looking at it Edmund, the story is about much more than a love story though. This is a journey that Emily Brontë takes us on, showing us the struggles of the social class system on whether its precarious or necessary, while additionally showing us that revenge, in the end, is pointless if there's no basis for it, and that an unchanging love is destructive no matter how long it lasts. This story overall is something that all of you can take lessons from, even apply it to your own lives.”

“And what lessons would that be?” a girl from the other side of the class asked. 

“Well for one, Paige, no matter how badly you want something, even if you are willing to go to great lengths and destroy everything you love, you still won't accomplish anything” Mrs. MacDonnell answered.

“This book sounds pretty hardcore, not sappy at all” Edmund mumbled. 

“Oh you are so right Edmund, it is pretty hardcore—especially the love between Heathcliff and Catherine— but the second ending makes up for all of the bad things that happen in the beginning of the book” Mrs. Macdonnell explained. 

The rest of the class started chatting amongst themselves at the revelation that Mrs. MacDonnell had presented to us, pretty much selling the book to us so that we would read it.But one thing sat with me after her explanation. No matter how badly you wanted something—even in the aspect of love of all things—you would not accomplish anything if there wasn’t some kind of life altering metamorphosis, or that's what I took from it. The thought had not sat well with me as our teacher answered questions from the other students about the book, making sure not to give too much away about the plot of the classic. 

I peered down at my desk, staring at the brooding cover that was my copy of the novel, the book silently giving me ominous feelings about my own life. The book’s primary theme revolved around love, something that, until recently, had been non-existent to me, but there I was considering my conflicted feelings towards Gage once more. The reminder that he was possibly going to avoid our promise weighed heavily on my soul, because I avidly hoped he would keep his word. I hoped that knowing him the way that I did would justify that hope, the silent desire for everything to turn out in our favor and for it to be okay. Gage always kept his promises, so my patience was something I was proud of when it came to any situation, but I never would have guessed that time would have become my enemy in that moment. 

“What do you mean by the second ending?” Edmund asked, his interest now peaked. 

“Well that’s technically where the sappy part, in a way, comes in Edmund. The love that happens between two completely different characters is something that resonates with people. They are from the opposite sides of the spectrum of the social class system, yet they find love and it's accepted. Completely” Mrs. MacDonnell answered, with a soft look on her face, “So you could say that we’re in for an emotional roller coaster of a novel.” 

With that explanation, thoughts of Asher flooded my mind, reminding me that our silent interaction in creative writing had confused me. What did it mean? Why did I feel attracted to the warmth that was promised behind those dark eyes? And why was I still afraid of what it could all mean? Asher and I were from two different worlds and it was obvious. I lived in the world of academics and Gage, and he loved football and was next in line to be at the top of the social food chain; we didn’t mix. But then again, neither did Gage and I. 

Why did it have to be so confusing?