"Peter," a soft voice called out to me. They had been talking for a little while now, but I could never make out what it was saying. As I slowly pulled my mind out of its groggy state, I started to piece it together.
"What?" I managed to mumble out, attempting to roll my head which caused a sharp pain to shoot through it.
"If you're going to keep sleeping, I think you should get into bed."
I knew the voice. I couldn't quite place who it was, but I definitely knew that I knew them.
"No, no. I'll go back to the party."
"Pete, look at me."
Groaning and generally making a big deal out of opening my eyes, even more, I eventually was able to look at the person waking me up.
"Blaire?" I asked, once I finally got a good look at who was in front of me. "Why's it so bright? And why does my head hurt so much?"
"Because it's two in the afternoon on Saturday. And you have a hangover," Blaire said with a smile, holding a glass of water in front of my face. "This isn't the same one I got last night. I promise."
"You got me water last night?" I asked groggily, lifting my head and feeling something unstick from my head and slam back on my desk, where I had been resting it.
"Jesus, Pete. Come on." Blaire moved closer to me and grabbed my arms, making me moan and mumble.
It was as if my body had lost all of its capabilities as Blaire slowly struggled to get me out of the chair I certainly didn't remember falling asleep in and moved me across the room, onto my bed. My head protested against the movement as well, feeling as though it would explode at any moment.
"Is everyone okay?" I asked, letting myself be lowered onto my bed and allowing my head to sink into my pillows.
"Okay is a vague word." Blaire chuckled. "Everyone got home safely. Some may have regrets."
"Please tell me you're not talking about me."
"No, no. You just passed out at your own computer desk." I felt my bed sink slightly, and I opened my eyes a slit to see Blaire sitting next to me. "I mean, Andy kissing Carly..."
"Oh... yeah," I muttered, thankful I hadn't done anything stupid. "He was furious when she broke up with him," I added, more so thinking out loud than answering Blaire.
"Should we tell him?" Blaire asked, repositioning herself on my bed and moving to lay beside me.
"Hopefully, he remembers. He usually has a pretty good memory after a big night like that."
"How's yours?"
"Pretty good. A bit fuzzy on the end of it, though."
"Yeah. At least you're not as bad as Leroy usually is." Blaire laughed, and I followed suit before wincing at the pain in my head. "You may not have Leroy's bad memory, but you've definitely got the hangover part down."
"Shut up."
"You should be thankful. Hell, you could make out with Leroy when he's drinking, and he wouldn't remember a thing!" Blaire exclaimed, and I groaned. "You're lucky you only have a sore head."
"Yeah..." my voice faltered slightly as my mind skipped at Blaire's words.
Kissing Leroy wasn't something that I wanted to be thinking about, especially now that I was starting to feel something for him. I didn't want to make things weird or awkward, but not thinking about it wasn't as easy as that. The alcohol that I had been drinking wouldn't be helping, but even when I was sober, I couldn't not think about him like that. He always seemed to play on my mind ever since Monday night when he smiled so brightly at me.
"Are you okay?" Blaire asked, and I could feel her eyes burning into me.
"No. Yeah. Why?" I managed to get out and was wondering if the alcohol was the reason for feeling this horrible or if it was the feelings for Leroy.
I had drunk enough the night before to feel the way I did now. It felt as though I would never know what it was like to be healthy again. On the other hand, the growing feelings for Leroy and the constant lying I'd found myself doing were taking a toll on me.
It wasn't just the terrible feeling that was hard about the lying, it was the fact that Blaire had terrific intuition. It was always as if she could see into my mind and feel my emotions. It was a little freaky and terrifying in situations like this.
"Peter," she said my name slowly and rested her hand on my arm.
"Blaire," I mimicked her, not wanting to get into a serious conversation at this time.
I knew that if she asked specific questions, I wouldn't be able to dance around them. Not like I usually do.
"Something's bothering you," she stated bluntly, not taking her eyes off me, and while I wanted to look away, I found that I couldn't.
"Blaire, I'm fine," I tried to convince her, but she shook her head at me. The motion made my head spin.
"You're not. Something has been bothering you all week," Blaire said knowingly, moving a little closer to me. "And not just this week, Pete. It always feels like you're treading on ice. Like you're trying not to make a wrong move. It's like you're afraid the ground beneath you is gonna shatter, and you're going to fall."
Blaire paused for a moment, and all I could do was stare at her. Yes, I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted it to be out there, even if only one person knew—because she wasn't wrong. Every day, it felt as though I was trying to navigate over a thin sheet of ice. Every step I took could cause the ground beneath me to collapse, and I may not be able to recover from that. I may not be able to find my footing again.
"I don't... Blaire, I just..." I had no idea what to say. Usually, I would find a way out of a conversation like this, but nothing was coming to me.
Damn hangover.
I was so tired. Pain was rippling through my brain, and my stomach was not sitting well. Not only that, but I was mentally and emotionally exhausted. I had been trying to pretend I was someone I wasn't for as long as I could remember. Always trying to keep things the same and not disappoint anyone. After a while, it becomes draining. It becomes a challenge. There comes a time when I don't want to do it anymore. I was getting to that point.
"You know that you can talk to me, right?"
That was something that I had heard many times, from many different people. Everyone wanted to seem like they cared, but in actuality, very few people wanted to help. Very few people wanted to listen. But Blaire was different. She had always been different.
"There's something I need to tell you." The words fell out of my mouth before I had time to stop them. As soon as they dripped from my lips, my heart began to race, and it felt as though it was going to burst through my chest.
As I felt Blaire's hand tighten on my arm, I closed my eyes to try and ease my mind and stomach, though it didn't help. I could feel my stomach twisting itself into knots, and it suddenly seemed as though I couldn't draw any air into my lungs. I opened my mouth a few times to speak, but each time I did, nothing came out.
After a few more moments, Blaire spoke.
"Pete..." was all she said, as she moved her hand to rest on my shoulder, and I closed my eyes tighter, unsure if I could hold myself together for much longer.
With each passing moment, I got more and more anxious, and I could feel the fears wanting to form in the back of my eyes. In my mind, I had already decided to tell Blaire. It was just a matter of getting the words out of my mouth.
"Blaire, I don't know how to do this," I started, my voice shaking and cracking with each word, but feeling Blaire's hand on my shoulder, and knowing that she cared, gave me the courage to continue. "There's something I need to tell you. I've wanted to say it for a while now, but I could never figure out how, and I was afraid... afraid that it would change things."
Blaire kept her hand on my shoulder as I paused and took a few deep breaths. Looking at her, I had no idea what she was thinking, but the one thing I could see was her patience with me. It was something that I had always admired. The way that she never rushed anyone or pushed them to do something they didn't want to do. I felt that's why I needed to tell her—why I could tell her.
Deep down, I knew that she would be okay with it. Deep down, I knew that she wouldn't tell anyone else if I asked her not to. I didn't want to keep living a lie. Making the video proved that. This was the next step, and I was as ready as I was ever going to be.
"I'm gay."
Comments (0)
See all