Well, that went just fucking great. I watch Tay hightail it out of my room, before I can so much as blink. When I hear the front door shut, I don’t bother joining Mom and Olly in the kitchen, but go straight to the spare room, once my parents’ bedroom.

A year after my father’s death, Mom moved to a smaller room in the house and began to change their once joined bedroom into a space for everyone. While Olly uses it to practice her violin, I bought a treadmill, weights, and a punching bag to make a little gym corner.

I shut the door and put on my boxing gloves, standing in front of the punching bag.

Snippets of the conversation with Tay spring through my head with every fist I slam into the red PU leather. When he asked about the bar picture, I panicked, and somehow everything went downhill from there. Tay has always had this unnerving skill to get under my skin, and today it felt like I had to glue my own mouth shut to keep from spilling anything.

Bam. That was a gay bar. Bam. The guy with the ridiculous smile was my first time. Bam. He wasn’t that funny. Bam. I didn’t like him that much. Bam. Still. Bam. I’ve never felt freer in my life.

The bag rattles loudly and a badly placed punch sends it flying to the side. I catch it, sweat building on my forehead and out of breath. But everything inside me that burns pushes me to keep going.

My best friend is about to be kicked out. Bam. I met him when he was harassed by some homophobic shitheads. For the longest time, he was the only one who knew. He was the first to tell me it was okay. Bam. Bam. And for that, I will be forever in his debt.

I let out an involuntary shout and beat into the bag with both fists, searching for any outlet I can allow myself. Finally, my arms slacken, and I lean my head against the punching bag, which is slowly coming to a halt.

“Fuck.”

Drops of liquid darken the red PU leather one by one. I sniff and catch my breath. Then I take off the gloves, slip into my running shoes, and start the treadmill.

❖

After a hot, refreshing shower, I join Mom and Olly in the kitchen. Olly is icing a freshly baked carrot cake under Mom’s watch.

“Smells good,” I say. Olly catches my hand before I can dip it into the icing. 

“Don’t you dare! The cake’s not for us.”

“How disappointing.” I sit down on one of the barstools and watch her work, pointedly ignoring my mother’s inquiring gaze. “What’s it for, then?”

Olly’s cheeks flush, and her look causes sirens to go off in my head. “A friend’s birthday party.”

“A friend, huh?” I ask, and the red color on her cheeks deepens. Jackpot. An evil grin spreads on my face. “Don’t tell me you have a crush.”

“Noah!” Mom chides, while Olly points the piping nozzle at me. Her silent threat is not very effective in shutting me up. Instead, I get closer and open my mouth, waiting. Olly doesn’t go through with her threat after all and returns her focus to the cake. But apparently, I deserve worse, and she asks in her most innocent, shit-stirring tone, “At least I’ve got a crush. What about you? Still no girl that caught your eye?”

The pressure I just managed to shake off starts to rebuild.

“No.” The word comes out sharper than I intended, and both Olly and Mom freeze and look at me. 

Thankfully, my phone lights up and Chris’s name appears on the screen. I check the message with apprehension, but he just wants to meet up for a chat. With a mumbled excuse, I slip off the chair and speed out of the kitchen, successfully evading that conversation.

When I arrive at CC’s, Chris is already at our regular table, with our regular drinks. As soon as I flop into my seat, Chris frowns and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Take your pick. My sister just threw me for a loop by asking about my lack of girlfriends in front of my mom and before that, Taylor stormed out on me ‘cause he was asking some questions that would have ended with me coming out to him. Or you coming out to him, actually.”

Chris leans back. “Me? I don’t even know the guy. Also…,” he pushes his untouched plate of waffles over to me, “I think you need this more than I do right now.”

I eye his latte. “Did I also mention that I kinda almost flirted with him?”

Chris protectively puts his hands around the steaming cup. “You won’t get my latte for that. That was obviously self-indulgence.”

I huff and take a bite of the waffle. “You would be right about that.”

Chris lowers his voice. “But seriously, what do you mean by my coming out?”

I swallow. “Well, Tay was there when you called me from the playground.”

His face darkens in understanding. “Oh. So you told him about me?”

“No, of course not,” I stress. “I would never out you, Chris, you know that, right?”

He fiddles with the corner of the menu and nods. “Yeah.”

“He did ask about you, though. He thinks you are my secret girlfriend, because I’m so evasive whenever you come up in conversation.”

As I anticipated, this makes Chris break out in a fit of laughter. “Your secret girlfriend?”

I can’t help but laugh along. I rub over my face and say, “It’s not just that, though. He also asked about my time in New York because of a picture with … the guys.” For Chris, I don’t need to elaborate who I’m talking about. “I brushed him off and it felt shitty. But not as shitty as when he up and left after telling me a pretty harsh truth.”

Chris steals a forkful of my … his waffles. “Hit me.”

“In a nutshell, he told me we can’t be friends, because I don’t actually want anyone to know me.”

Chris puffs out his cheeks. “Harsh. But the truth.”

I stab another piece. “I know, right? How dare he hold me accountable for my actions?”

I let the fork fall to the plate and Chris startles.

“I’m so angry that he is right. Or no, I’m angry at the situation forcing me to be in the wrong.”

Chris frowns. “So, explain something to me. I understand he asked about your other friends and me, couldn’t you have just said, ‘They are my friends’ and be done with it?”

I shake my head. “You don’t get it. Once Tay has gotten his little toe in the door, he will crash through it like a damn bulldozer. And I’m honestly not strong enough to keep him from finding out about my orientation.”

Chris raises an eyebrow at my words. “Then don’t.”

I tap my fingers against the table once, twice. Then say, “I’m trying to find arguments against it. And I’m baffled I can’t find one.”

Chris laughs. “I mean, is he homophobic?”

“No. He made it pretty clear he’s not. His best friend is bi.”

“Oh well, a sticker for the ally,” Chris mumbles and I kick his foot under the table. “He means well.”

“So, is he capable of keeping a secret?”

“Hm. I think so. I once broke my mom’s favorite vase and he never spilled a word about it.”

“Does he even remember that?”

I pause. “He might not.”

Chris snorts, then waves me off. “We are getting off topic. What I really want to say is, just go for it, man. Flirt your heart out. If he catches your drift, even better.”

I stay silent and Chris stares. “There's something else, isn't there?”

I groan and shake my head. “If I flirt with him, I’m not doing it for the right reasons.”

“How come?”

I hesitate because I’m not sure how Chris will take it. That he is part of the reason. Chris's foot taps mine under the table. “Come on, spit it out.”

It doesn't take more than that. “During my time in New York, when I was surrounded by other queer people and had freedom to explore this part of me, I sometimes had these glimpses of hope. Scenarios, where I would tell my mom and she would be graceful and accepting.

Witnessing you go through the rejection of your very self by your closest family, however …” I shake my head. Chris pulls a face, but lets me finish my thoughts. “I can’t say it didn’t dig up some old doubts. And now I have this compulsion to erase them, to get a positive experience to balance it out, if you so will. And Tay is a much safer option than my mom.”

Chris leans back and looks almost amused. “So you are flirting with him, because you feel shitty about my coming out to my mom? How introspective of you.”

I throw him a look. “It’s not the only reason. I guess I can allow myself to let loose with Tay, because I know for a fact that nothing will ever come of it. Not only is he straight, he also has some kind of feud with me, and when I suggested anything of this sort in jest, his words were, quote, hell no.”

“Ouch.”

I huff and take a sip of coffee. “Tell me about it.”

I ignore the sting in my heart. Once the summer courses start, I will be off to college, and I will quickly forget about the tutor sessions. Just like I will forget Tay. I have to. There is a lump in my throat, and I search for a distraction and remember the reason I’m here in the first place.

“What did you want to show me?”

Chris eyes me, but accepts the change of topic and pulls a thin folder out of his bag before handing it to me. 

“Look,” he says with pride. I take the folder and peruse it. Birth certificate, copies of his ID, social security card, and driver’s license, his school records. Heck, even his immunization records and the medical history of his parents are in there. 

“You’ve been quite busy.”

“I looked up tips on how to prepare for being kicked out. I checked everything on the list I found. It was kinda difficult to get the medical records and my social security card long enough to copy them at school, but I managed.”

I reach the end of the folder and there is a document with a bunch of fill-in-the-blank fields. I read the title and my head shoots up to Chris. “You want to change your name?”

Maybe for the first time ever, I see Chris blush. He clasps his latte and rubs his thumb along the cup's edge. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, yeah. My name … is connected to a lot of bad experiences, and for a long time, I’ve felt that it doesn’t fit me at all. And when I get kicked out, I will have to get many of my documents redone, anyway.”

When not if. My chest aches, and I have to swallow hard. “Have you already chosen your name?”

Chris nods, then shakes his head. “There is one name I like, but I don’t think I’m really ready for it yet.” He suddenly laughs. “Actually, I introduced myself with that name to train-guy and it felt strange. Like I shouldn’t have, because I haven’t reached that stage of life yet.” 

I lean forward and smile at him, waiting. He sighs and leans in as well, whispering the name as if handing over a treasure.