I’d had as much fun hanging out with him over spring break as I did in bed with him, and I’d never had that with anyone. That sense of rightness. That sense of fulfillment in a friendship and in a relationship. I wanted both with him. Friends and lovers. Friends and boyfriends. But I didn’t know how to do that when our future goals were so incompatible. It was impossible.
Our deadline was barreling toward us fast.
Now that we couldn’t make out in the storage closet, maybe I should let our relationship peter out naturally. But I wasn’t sure I could make it through another day without his hands on my skin, without his smile.
I stared up at the twinkle lights around my ceiling and tried to talk myself out of calling him. After my storage closet freak-out, I’d wanted nothing more than to be comforted by him. To be held.
I’d never been vulnerable with the men I’d fucked. I’d never let other guys take care of me after sex, and no one had ever acted like they wanted to. With Connor, I craved it. I craved his cuddles and the spill of his words and the warmth of his stingy smiles.
I was pretty sure I was in love with him.
I was pretty sure it would devastate me.
“Hiya, hot pants!”
I jumped at Paulie’s deep, musical voice. I hadn’t even noticed that he’d opened my door.
“Knock much?” I said, trying to infuse my voice with humor and failing. “You’re lucky I wasn’t crying and masturbating in here.”
Paulie laughed. “Oh heavens. The whole house knows when you’re getting in a good wank. Trust me.”
“You do not.”
Paulie shrugged and dove onto my bed with me, cuddling into my side. Joel appeared in the doorway, and a soft smile stretched his face as he watched Paulie get comfy on my bed. That smile sent another bolt of longing through me.
I shouldn’t have been jealous of my best friend. He’d had a horrible road to reach this sense of contentment.
But I was a bad person because I was green with envy.
“I thought you guys were going to the Lumberyard.”
Joel sat on the edge of my bed, drawing his legs up underneath him. “We decided to stay home instead.”
“Why?” I asked, suspicious. Were they trying to take care of me? I didn’t want that at all. Unless it came from Connor. I’d planned to lick my wounds in peace. Then, let’s be honest, I’d have probably called Connor.
“I wanted mudslides,” Paulie said. “And can you believe that the Yard doesn’t serve those?”
“Do we have the stuff to make mudslides? Don’t we need ice cream?” I asked.
“Roy is picking some up. They’re on their way over,” Joel said.
I laughed but wanted to groan. This was an intervention. Joel and Paulie were calling in the big guns if they were getting Roy involved. Roy and I had been thick as thieves since freshman year when we’d been the only Black students on our dorm floor. Plus, we were both queer as hell. Solidarity was survival sometimes.
Roy showed up thirty minutes later wearing a kilt and a see-through sweater, showing off their muscular chest. They also had on yellow eyeliner, and it popped against their darker skin. There was no way Roy had dressed up like that to spend the night drinking alcoholic milkshakes with me.
I gave them a hug. “You didn’t have to cancel your plans to hang out with my sorry ass.”
Roy grinned and pinched my side. “Maybe I’m here because I’m angling for a Joel and Paulie sandwich.”
“God, I’m glad you’re here. And if that happens, I want all the details.”
I was pretty sure Paulie would never be able to share Joel, but the image sure was a pretty one.
Paulie made us mudslides that were noticeably weak—he was the worst at making drinks—and we hung out on the back porch. It was a pleasant Oklahoma night. I didn’t need a jacket, and the stars were bright in the sky, twinkling through the tree cover.
It made me think of the storage closet. I was going to miss those glow-in-the-dark stars.
“Okay, baby. Tell me what’s got you so muppety,” Roy said.
“I’m fine.”
“Bullshit,” Paulie said. “I haven’t seen you this dejected since last spring. And I’m pretty sure Connor was at fault then too.”
“This isn’t his fault,” I said. “It’s mine.”
“How so?” Roy asked.
“We’re friends-with-benefits, but feelings are starting to get involved. I keep pushing him away, then pulling him back in.”
Paulie sucked on his bendy straw noisily. After he swallowed, he said, “If feelings are involved, why not be boyfriends?”
“We graduate in like forty-five days.”
“So?” Paulie shrugged.
“So what? Are we supposed to be boyfriends for a month, then break up? That’s dumb.”
“No,” Roy said. “What’s dumb is being friends-with-benefits with someone that you have real feelings for. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good friends-with-bennies. But there is a reason we didn’t keep fucking once we realized we wanted to be actual friends, Travis.”
“I don’t get the comparison. We didn’t have feelings for each other.”
“Yes, we did. I love you as a friend. Our platonic friendship is incredibly important to me, as important as a romantic relationship. I didn’t want to be wondering if we were only hanging out was because one or both of us wanted to get off. Or because you needed a spanking. Fucking would have ruined our friendship, and I wanted a friendship with you. Mixed messages, you know?”
“I agree with that, and I love you too. But my feelings for Connor are not platonic.”
“So why are you letting him think they are?” Roy asked.
I jerked at their words and heat hit me right in the chest. Fuck.
Roy softened their voice. “If you actually want a fuck buddy, don’t choose someone you’ll miss after the orgasms get old.”
“I hear you, but it’s a little late for that in my case. The orgasms aren’t getting old, for one, and I want everything with him. Friendship, relationship. But it’s impossible.”
Paulie leaned his head on Joel’s shoulder. Joel was staring up at the stars, a sense of calm radiating from him. He’d kept his mouth shut this whole time, and I needed to know what he thought I should do. He was my best friend. I loved Paulie and Roy with my whole heart, but I needed Joel.
I said his name softly, and he dropped his chin to smile at me.
“I hate seeing you hurting, Travis,” Joel said.
Tears threatened to choke me, but I swallowed them down. “I’m doing the hurting this time, I think.”
“I’ve been there, right where you are.”
A small awkwardness filled the space. Joel had hurt Paulie. A lot. Yes, they’d both screwed up during that time, but there was no doubt that Joel had been the impetus for their breakup last year. Roy’s eyes flicked between the two men avidly, eating up the sudden drama.
“What would you do if you were me?” I asked Joel.
“Well, because I have a tendency to be a toxic mess, I’d likely do something horrible that makes him break up with me.”
Those words tore a hole through my chest. While Paulie reassured Joel that he wasn’t in fact a toxic mess anymore, I reeled from his words. I was suddenly breathless.
I tried not to be horrible, but was it time for me and Connor to put a stop to this nonsense? Could we really end things? Never kiss again? Never laugh and smile and just be in each other’s presence?
Joel grabbed my hand. “And you’re adamant that you can’t last after graduation?”
“Yeah. Our futures—they’re too different. He’ll be here forever, and even if I didn’t have a game plan with law school and SAFE Asylum, I don’t want to live in Elkville the rest of my life. He can’t leave, and I’d never ask him to.”
“Do you think you could keep fooling around until graduation, then end things amicably?”
“Maybe. I don’t see us having a big blow up fight or any
thing, but I don’t want to hurt him either. I don’t want to lead him on.”
“I can’t imagine what I’d do if Paulie and I were in the same situation as you—with career paths that could never align. I don’t think either you or Connor should compromise your futures to stay together. That’s an avalanche of resentment waiting to happen. But I wouldn’t draw out the pain either.”
I took a huge gulp of melting mudslide, hoping to loosen the lump in my throat. Instead, it froze the panic there, making it hard to breathe. “End things now. Or fool around until May, then end it. There has to be another option.”
They all stared at me sadly.
“Ah shit. Why does this feel like the world is ending? I didn’t think it’d hurt so much.”
Roy snorted inelegantly. “First love, baby. It’s a helluva thing.”
Chapter Seventeen
CONNOR
Wednesday’s entomology class wasn’t as painful as the week before. Travis and I actually worked on the discussion questions together, and he watched me as if he were memorizing me for later.
I liked that.
After class, we didn’t move to the fourth floor. That whole hallway felt off limits now that we’d been caught there, but he did linger with me outside the building for a few minutes. We talked about finals, and he gushed about an email he’d gotten from SAFE Asylum about his start date. He was so excited about his internship over the summer. I wanted to feel that sense of potential in my own life. That sense of anticipation.
But then of course I fucked it up. I hooked our pinkies together as he chattered away, and he froze.
“I’m sorry.” I pulled my hand back.
“No, I’m sorry, Connor.” The way he said that, with so much pain, made my whole body recoil from his hurt. He left after that, begging off to get some studying done. I spent the rest of the day distracted and on edge.
I went to my parents’ house for dinner that night, hoping it’d level me out.
Lena was helping my mom manage a skillet of scrambled eggs and a griddle covered in pancakes.
Mom gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but Lena sent me a suspicious side-eye. I’d avoided family dinners lately because they’d been making me more anxious. The conversation inevitably led to the farm.
As I set the table, I noticed the carton of eggs on the counter. I slid past it and nudged the carton. The expiration date was next week. That was good. It calmed the sudden pounding in my ears.
I surreptitiously checked the date on the Bisquick box as well.
It didn’t make me feel better though. I shouldn’t be checking like that. It was a compulsion. I felt sick with the need to turn the vegetable oil around and see the use-by date.
Lena was watching me, her eyes laser-like. She’d noticed. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Dad showed up and hugged me. His shirt smelled of livestock, and that familiar scent comforted me momentarily. We sat around the table and everyone started eating.
I couldn’t bring the pancakes to my mouth.
“Grace’s Steakhouse is thinking about adding a patio,” Dad said. We owned a stake in the restaurant, but I’d never been involved with it. I didn’t want to be involved in it. “They’re having a meeting with their investors before finalizing the decisions. I think you should go with me, Connor.”
I stood up and walked into the kitchen. The house had an open floor plan so I was still visible to my family. I grabbed a Dr Pepper and twisted the vegetable oil on the counter slightly so I could see the date. It didn’t expire for another year and a half.
I sat back down.
Silence.
It made me dizzy. I took a sip of the Dr Pepper. Then I checked the date on the bottom of the can.
Holy shit. This was not good.
“What day is the meeting?” I asked.
“Saturday,” Dad said. He glanced at Mom, concern etched into his laugh-lined face. I pretended not to see.
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
I took a bite of the pancake, but it tasted like ash in my mouth. What if the eggs were actually expired? I’d get sick. We’d all get sick. And then I’d miss the meeting. I’d miss class. I’d miss seeing Travis.
What was the date on those eggs again?
Maybe I’d read it wrong. It could have said March instead of April. Then we’d all be fucked.
I pushed my food around on my plate for a few minutes, long enough for the conversation to pick up again. I couldn’t eat it. The very thought made my whole body tremble.
I stood and went back to the refrigerator.
When I swung the door open, Mom said, “Connor.”
But it was too late. I’d already checked the date on the eggs again. They were not expired.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Come back and sit down, honey,” Mom said again.
Tears heated the back of my throat, and I watched them all warily as I settled back into my seat.
“When was the last time you saw Dr. Dimond?” Dad asked. I swallowed convulsively. Then I took a bite, just to prove to them that I could.
“Last spring.”
“Graduation is a stressful time,” Mom said gently. “Do you think you need to call her?”
I nodded. I obviously did. It probably was onset by stress. But was I stressed because of a looming graduation or because of Travis? An ugly mash-up of both?
Lena grabbed my hand under the table, and I held on through the rest of dinner.
A few days later, I knocked on Dr. Greer’s office door and tried not to seem desperate.
I was desperate.
I’d had a therapy appointment yesterday, and Dr. Dimond and I had talked about the things that had been stressing me out lately. I hadn’t told her about Travis because I was worried she’d hint at me to end things. I didn’t want to end things.
Instead, we’d discussed my concern over my future in Elkville, and she’d given me some exercises to work on when I started to struggle with fears and compulsions. She’d also told me to talk to my parents about my concerns about the farm. I’d decided to talk to Dr. Greer first.
“Connor, come in. This is unexpected.” Dr. Greer ushered me in.
I’d been in this office many times through the years, and it was soothing in its warmth and order.
There was a new photo in a frame on his desk—a picture with his spouse, Dr. Lopez, at a pride parade. Dr. Lopez was in drag and absolutely stunning. They looked so happy and free together. It sent a rush of longing through me.
I was scary desperate.
“So, what’s up, Connor?”
I ripped my eyes away from the photo. “Uh, do you have time to talk to me? I’m not interrupting anything? Because it might take a couple minutes.”
I cringed. It was like all my control had left me.
“Sure.” He glanced at his open door as a few noisy graduate students walked by, making plans for dinner. “Does this need to be a private conversation? We can close the door.”
“Thank you.” I pushed the door shut and sat in the chair in front of his desk. I didn’t want anyone connected with Elkville overhearing.
“Are you all right?”
I considered the question for far too long before shaking my head. “I’m not sure.”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m having a crisis in terms of my career.”
Christ, could that sound more dramatic?
“Okay. Tell me about it.”
“I’m not sure I want it. My career. I don’t think I want the one that’s been laid out in front of me.” I took a breath, on a roll now. “It’s always been assumed that I’d step into the family businesses. It seems like it was decided for me before I was old enough to have an opinion. But I’m not sure it’s what I want.”
Dr. Greer’s head tipped back slightly. “Ah, I see. What would you like to do instead?”
“I have no idea.”
That was the worst part of this whole thing. I didn’t have an alternative.
It wasn’t as if I dreamed to be an actor or an architect or anything like that. I liked agriculture. It was important to me. I just didn’t want to run the family farm. The thought terrified me, made me feel like I was in quicksand with no escape.
My situation with Travis had only heightened my anxiety about graduating and my future. I was running out of time on both.
“Fear over career paths is normal,” Dr. Greer said. “It’s okay to not be sure.”
“I think that’s easier for other people. To be unsure, I mean.”
Dr. Greer smiled. “I get that. You’re a very exacting person, so being uncertain must be difficult.”
“Yes. But that’s not what I mean. This is my legacy. My father died, and this farm is my connection to him. It’s my connection to my parents. It’s what they’ve worked their whole lives for.”
Dr. Greer rubbed his fingers along his bearded chin.
“Let me ask you some questions, okay?”
I nodded.
“Do you like the agricultural field? Is agriculture, or at least aspects of it, important to you?”
“Yes. It is.” I had embarrassingly strong feelings about the honorability of farming and creating the nation’s food source. And that was part of the problem. If this was what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, why not do it at my family’s farm?
“If you could pick one small part to champion, what would it be?”
My mind blanked. “I don’t know.”
I believed in a lot of the tenets of my family’s farm and businesses—sustainability, community food security, natural resource management—but I had no idea if I could pick only one to champion.
“What do you think your strengths are?”
This one was easy. “Organization.”
Dr. Greer smiled again. “From knowing you, and from talking to the professors around campus, I would say you also excel at soil science and herd management. Your last essay about insects and agriculture in Entomology 101 contained a wonderful section on conservation and sustainability. You’re good at explaining things—straight and to the point. And your organizational skills enhance your other strengths.”
Clean Break Page 20
