The truth is, I really don’t want to go back to how it used to be between us. I want this, I want what we have now. I’m also starting to want it to be real. My heart is longing to forget that this is all a game. That thought both terrifies me and excites me. It’s so sudden, so soon. I’ve never believed that there’s a set amount of time before you can like someone.
When it happens, it happens.
And I can already tell that I am on the precipice of falling for Bryson Keller—my fake boyfriend.
14
Donny and I are standing amid a sea of crimson and white. I’m doing my part to fit in. I’m wearing black jeans and the only red T-shirt I own. When you blush as much as I do, it’s best to avoid the color. The sun has just set behind the soccer stadium. I occasionally come to watch Priya play, but Donny comes to every game. He is energy personified. Every time Priya touches the ball, he screams his heart out. His face is red not only from the shouting, but also from Priya’s number seven painted on his cheeks. I feel a pang of jealousy. I also want to date like this—out in the open and free.
Whatever tension there was earlier in the day seems to be forgotten. Just like I knew it would. Donny is the ever-supportive boyfriend. Still, he’s a nervous mess next to me. He’s been chewing his thumbnail ever since the away team leveled the score.
“We can’t afford to lose this one. We really need the points.” I smile at my friend. It’s cute how he refers to Priya’s activities as his own.
“What is it?” Donny asks when he catches me looking at him.
“Just…you practically have hearts in your eyes.”
Donny laughs. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to me, because I’m your best friend. And I know you.”
“The same goes for you,” Donny says. “I know you.”
Before I can ask what he means, Priya scores. Donny practically jumps into my arms, and I barely manage to stop us both from falling. When we pull apart, I’m laughing. For the rest of the game, Donny and I are Priya’s very own cheerleading squad. It works—we win two to one.
After the game, Donny and I go to grab a drink from concessions. My throat needs it.
“Wasn’t she amazing?” Donny has been talking about Priya nonstop. I know I shouldn’t, but I feel a pang shoot across my chest. I long to be able to talk openly about who I like, not just with my friends, but with the rest of the world, too. It’s unfair how heterosexuals get to love, laugh, and live so freely, while we second-guess everything. Our actions are always cautious.
As if my thoughts have summoned them, I spot Eric and his boyfriend. They’re crossing the parking lot, heading for their car. They look happy, oblivious to the few people who have stopped to judge.
Or perhaps not so oblivious. They stop and deliberately stare at those very assholes. My stomach sinks—I hope they don’t cause a scene. For every step that I take toward wanting to come out, these moments hold me back. It’s a mix of fear and anger that my coming out means dealing with stuff like this. Eric smirks and pulls his boyfriend toward him. They kiss and give the homophobes something to talk about. The group scurries away, and Eric laughs.
I laugh, too.
“What?” Donny asks. He’s missed the boldness—and bravery—of this out and proud gay couple. Eric catches me looking.
He offers me a nod, and I find myself returning it. I decide that when I grow up, I want to be just like him.
“Nothing.” It’s our turn to order. “I’ll just have a Coke, please.”
Donny buys snacks for him and Priya, and I help him carry them to the Quackmobile. Priya arrives a short while later. She’s showered and changed, and her wet black hair is braided down the length of her back.
“You were so great,” Donny says.
“Thanks.” She smiles and kisses him on the cheek. “I’m glad we won. It was tough.”
I offer her a thumbs-up. Priya laughs. “Did you follow any of the game, Kai?”
“Hey, I at least know the basics.”
“Your dad must be so proud,” Priya teases.
I take a sip of my soda.
“You sure you don’t need me to drop you off?” Donny asks me.
“Yeah. Dad will come get me. It’s fine, go.”
“It’s really no problem,” Donny says.
“I know, but it’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“Donald, Kai said it’s fine. We should trust him.” Priya pops a handful of candy into her mouth and chews. She heads around to the passenger seat and climbs in. Donny joins her in the car. I wave as I watch them leave the parking lot.
I finish my soda and throw the can away before returning to the stands. I scan the crowd for Bryson’s family, but I don’t see them. The Cougars are warming up as I make my way to an empty seat. Almost instantly my eyes find Bryson. He’s talking excitedly to Dustin. Bryson laughs and his whole body shakes. I find myself smiling at the sight.
Bryson continues some stretches. His jersey pulls tight against his broad shoulders as he holds one arm across his body and then the other. He spins to look at the stands. I can feel the moment Bryson’s eyes find me among the sea of people. His blue eyes widen with surprise at first, but then his face pulls into a wide grin. He waves and he could be waving at anyone around me, but I know that it’s for me. I wave back. I’m just another face in the crowd. Bryson adds a wink to punctuate the gesture.
I watch as he jogs to join the rest of his team to finish off their warm-up. My eyes scan the rest of the team and I barely bat an eye at Isaac. Who have I become?
Everyone takes their positions and the referee blows his whistle. It’s clear Bryson is the star of the team. He’s a forward who always seems to have the ball. Bryson nimbly bypasses the opposition. He is sure and confident. And only ten minutes into the game, Bryson scores.
His team tackles him, and I can’t help but feel a little jealous at the sight. Bryson pulls away and runs to the corner, and he slides toward me. Everyone around me goes wild, and I join in. Bryson spots me cheering him on. He smiles, and if I were closer, I’m sure I’d be able to see his dimple.
The home crowd starts to cheer even louder. I pay them no mind. My eyes are stuck on Bryson. Just before halftime, Bryson is roughly tackled in the penalty area and awarded a free kick. My heart’s in my throat as I watch him climb to his feet. He limps for a bit and shakes his ankle. Only when everything seems to be okay do I release the breath I’m holding.
I take a bathroom break at halftime. When I’m rinsing my hands, I get a text from Kelly.
I didn’t know you were coming. He adds a series of confetti-cannon emojis.
I smile as I type my response. I wanted to surprise you. I guess it worked.
I was the one who promised to be the perfect boyfriend, Bryson texts back.
Fair is fair.
What am I going to do with you? Bryson asks.
What do you mean?
Aaah. Got to go. Coach is calling. Talk later. I’m not sure if he’s hit the emoji by mistake because he’s in a rush, but my heart hammers in my chest as I stare at the kissing-face emoji.
I return to my seat but distractedly watch the second half. My mind is on the text, on that kissing face. What does it all mean?
I pull my phone from my pocket and reread our conversation. My eyes snag on What am I going to do with you? Is Bryson as confused as I am? This can’t go on. We need to talk.
Soon.
The final whistle blows, and the Cougars win four to two, with Bryson scoring three of their goals. I can’t help laughing as Bryson is picked up onto Dustin’s and Isaac’s shoulders. As the crowd cheers, I realize my voice is one of the loudest.
As I’m leaving the stands, my phone buzzes—another text from Kelly.
Wait for me. I’ll give you a lift home.
I pl
anned on calling Dad to pick me up, but this is easier.
Okay, I text back.
I make my way to the school parking lot. It doesn’t take me long to spot Bryson’s Jeep, but I don’t walk toward it. With so many people around me, it’s best not to draw their attention. I don’t need people questioning why I’m here and, more so, why I’m here with Bryson. I’m not sure I have a believable excuse to offer them. Instead, I head to the stairs that lead into block A and take a seat. I can still see and hear Bryson from here.
I watch as the parking lot starts to empty. Soon the vehicles that remain belong to either the stragglers or the team. Bryson jogs into view a short while later. He scans the parking lot but doesn’t see me. I watch as he pulls his phone from his pocket.
Where are you?
Instead of typing a response, I stand. He spots me and his frown morphs into a smile. Before I can walk toward him, though, Shannon, Natalie, and Isaac approach him. I sit back down. This is how I’ve lived my whole life—hidden and in the shadows. And the longer I stay here, the more tired I’m getting.
“We’re heading to my place to celebrate the victory; do you want to come?” Isaac asks.
Bryson shakes his head. “I’m beat, man.”
“You should be. You were on fire tonight,” Natalie says.
“That’s why you deserve to celebrate,” Shannon says. I watch as she slides up to Bryson. “Come with us. It’ll be fun.”
“I’m really not in the mood,” Bryson says. He very subtly creates space between them. I can’t help but smile at the gesture.
Dustin runs up to them. “So, is he in?”
“No,” Shannon whines. “He says he’s tired.”
“I told you he’s become a real buzzkill lately,” Dustin says. He pats Bryson on the back. “Must be old age.”
“You’re older than me,” Bryson points out.
“Well, we should get going, then,” Isaac says. He takes Natalie’s hand in his. And the sight should make me feel a little jealous. Just last week it would have.
It doesn’t take long for them to climb into Isaac’s car and drive out of the parking lot. Bryson waves them off. I stand and walk toward him once more.
“I hate that you had to hide,” Bryson says when I approach. The smile that was on his face is gone. He even curses as he unlocks the Jeep and climbs in.
I join him. We don’t go anywhere, though. “I’m sorry,” Bryson says to me.
“For?”
“I don’t think it’s hit me until this week how scary it is to think about coming out. How cautious you have to be.” He sighs. “Even when you like someone, you can’t just outright show them. Everything has to be subtle. Or announced. There’s, like, no middle ground. You’re either in the closet or you have to announce that you’re gay and dating. You can’t just do it.” Bryson starts the Jeep. “It’s such bullshit.”
I offer him a small smile. “I admire people like Eric Ferguson who just live their truth.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to understand just how brave Eric is.”
Bryson scrolls through a playlist on his phone before hitting play. He pulls out of the parking lot, and soon we are surrounded by one of the Graces’ ballads. It’s a song about liking a boy for the first time. The song choice feels deliberate. I study the boy next to me.
“You know, I haven’t scored a hat trick since sophomore year,” Bryson says. “I think you may be my lucky charm.”
“I should come to more of your games, then.”
“I’d love that,” Bryson admits. “It was kinda cool knowing my boyfriend was there to support me.” He laughs. “I guess I’m starting to get the perks of dating in high school.”
“I know I’m not the first of your dates to watch your soccer games.”
“You’re not,” Bryson says. “But it’s the first time I’ve felt this.”
“Felt what?” My heart’s in my throat.
Bryson doesn’t speak. As I watch him drive, I keep playing over and over all the times that have made me question if Bryson Keller is straight. I want to ask him about it. I need to, for my own peace of mind, and for the sake of my heart, which will be breaking come next week. By the time we pull up to the front of my house, I’ve finally worked up the courage to speak. I clear my throat, ready to ask the question that needs to be asked.
“Are you—” Just then, his phone rings. Bryson looks from me to the ringing phone.
“It’s my mom. She’s away on a trip until Saturday. So I should take this.”
“Go ahead.”
Bryson answers the phone. “Hey, Mom. How—what?” Bryson’s frown deepens as he listens to his mother. “What kind of accident?” Two minutes later, he hangs up. He turns to me. “My sister’s in the hospital.”
“What happened?” I ask.
“She was in a car accident on her way home from college.”
“Is she okay?” I reach for his shoulder. Bryson leans into my touch.
He nods. “Mom says it’s just minor injuries. But I should head over there.”
“Do you need me to come?”
“No,” Bryson says. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for offering, though.”
“No problem.” I grab my things and reach for the door handle.
“I promise we’ll talk more.” Our eyes lock. “Soon.”
“Okay,” I say as I climb from the Jeep. I watch as Bryson drives off. He stops in front of the neighbor’s house and reverses. Bryson rolls down the window and I bend to look into the car.
“To answer your question,” Bryson says. “Yes, I think I might be.”
And with that, he pulls off, leaving me breathless and full of even more questions.
15
I won’t get to see Bryson at all today. Which makes me want to simply just roll over and stay in bed. I blink the world into focus and reach for my phone. I reply to a message in my group chat before checking out Instagram.
I scroll through my feed and stop on one of Bryson. It’s a selfie of him in his sister’s hospital room. There’s a small smile on his face, and even without a filter he looks good.
Babysitting today, the caption reads, with a doctor emoji. Already there are over fifty likes, even though the picture was only posted about fifteen minutes ago. I double-tap the picture and smile at the red heart.
My phone buzzes with a text from Kelly mere heartbeats later.
You’re up? Yay!
I smile and respond: How’d you sleep?
Eh, not good, Bryson says. Very tired. I was here at the hospital until late. My sister’s getting discharged in a few hours. Concussion and whiplash. She’ll be stiff, but nothing too serious.
You should get some more rest.
Haha do I need some beauty sleep? Bryson adds a winking face.
Is it even possible for you to not look good?
You flirt you.
A few seconds later, another text follows.
Got to go. Chat later.
This time the kissing face that follows is intentional—I’m sure of it. I think back to last night and Bryson’s confession. We need to talk about it, but it’s the type of conversation that needs to be had in person, face-to-face.
I lock my phone and climb from my bed. I walk to the bathroom and begin my morning ritual. I’ve become used to being done by seven o’clock because of Bryson, so by then I’m already dressed. I realize too late that I’ve done everything too quickly.
With a sigh, I head downstairs and find Dad making waffles. Mom sits at the island as usual with her iPad open to today’s news. She scrolls through the articles but stops at the sight of me. Mom fake gasps when she sees me taking a seat next to her.
“Is it really you?” she asks.
“It has to be a mirage,” Dad adds.
“Maybe a hallucination.�
�
I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t been spending as much time with my family as I normally would, but it’s only been three days. If this is how they’re reacting now, how are they going to handle it in a few months’ time when I head off to college?
“Are we tripping right now?” Mom asks.
“Funny,” I say.
Dad laughs. “Are you eating with us today?”
“Yeah.” I reach for the coffeepot. I pour myself a cup and add two sugars and some cream.
“How was the game yesterday?”
“Priya scored, so we won.” I take a sip of my coffee. As I drink, I find myself missing what has become my routine with Bryson. He was right when he said the bacon and eggs at Glenda’s were the best. “The boys won, too.”
“You watched that game, too?” Mom asks.
“Yeah, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”
“Baby steps,” Dad says. “I might make you a soccer fan yet.”
Mom shakes her head. “I don’t need to find two people asleep on the couch. Why even bother waking up if you’re just going to fall asleep instead of watching?”
Yazz rolls into the kitchen. “Oh, you’re still here.” She looks me up and down. “I hate to admit this, but I miss our morning altercations.”
“I don’t,” Mom says.
“I’m pretty sure the neighbors don’t, either,” Dad adds.
“We aren’t that loud,” I say.
Yazz pours herself some cereal and adds milk. “We’re loud because we love each other.”
“Jislaaik, you two fight all the time but are so similar,” Dad says as he takes the final vacant seat. He piles his plate with his own share of waffles.
“Most parents would be thrilled to know that Yazz and I are so close.”
“Well, most parents did not raise you and Yazz,” Mom says. Dad holds up his hand and she high-fives him.
Yazz and I roll our eyes. Sometimes our parents’ corniness is too much to deal with. Thankfully, Donny sends a text that he’s arrived.
Date Me, Bryson Keller Page 11
