– Blake Abel Foster –

“What about that guy,” Chris asks me, pointing at the guy standing at the counter, ordering food.

He’s very slim. His hair is jet black, short on one side, long on the other, covering one side of his face. He’s wearing a tight black shirt and black skinny jeans. One hand covered with a black and purple-striped fingerless glove.

I look at Chris with a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look on my face, as I take another french fry, dipping it in barbecue sauce before popping it in my mouth.

“My bad, my bad,” Chris says, holding his hands up in surrender while smiling.

Chris is my best friend, has been since the third grade. He’s the only one who really knows me, knows that I’m gay. I came out to him junior year after a bad break-up with a guy from our rival school.

***

Gavin Hatfield. Still hurts me to think about him, to say his name in my mind. I was there for Gavin when his boyfriend of two years left him and called it quits. We never had sex, it never got that far. But, sex doesn’t define a relationship, in my opinion. I thought what we had was something real. Little did I know, I was just his rebound – and a crappy one at that.

Our six-month relationship ended badly. Gavin couldn’t or wouldn’t cope with the fact that I was still closeted. I wouldn’t let him hold my hand or kiss me in public. He couldn’t handle it. Didn’t understand why I didn’t just come out. Of all people, I thought he’d understand. Thought he’d give me a chance and deal with it until I was ready. I just wish he would have given me more time. I think about him all the time. It’s hard for me some days. I miss him.

I came out to Chris on a Friday night a few months ago. It was after a football game against Gavin’s school – our school’s rival. We beat them 28-21 with me running in the game winning touchdown. I was on high, ecstatic. Glad that I helped the team win. Proud that we beat our rivals. The euphoria in the locker room after the game was palpable.

My high came crashing down when I bumped into Gavin and his new boyfriend as I was exiting the locker rooms.

Gavin congratulated me, half-heartedly, on the game winning touchdown. I heard his words, but all my brain registered and focused on was his hand, fingers interlocked, into someone else’s. He introduced me to his new boyfriend, Eric. Eric extended his hand as Gavin lovingly rested his head against Eric’s shoulder. That was a message I read loud and clear.

See, Blake? It’s not that hard to be physical with each other in public.

I said nothing to them, didn’t even shake Eric’s hand. I just adjusted my duffle bag on my shoulder and walked away. Pushing through crowds of people to get out of the stadium. I jogged to my car, tears already streaking down my cheeks. I needed to get into my car before I broke down in front of everybody in the parking lot.

I hit the unlock button on my keypad, tossing my duffle bag in the passenger seat before climbing in behind the wheel. I got in just in time, breaking down.

God, why do I miss him so much?

I punched the steering wheel, causing the horn to honk. Chris happened to be walking by at the time, duffle bag draped over his shoulder, hair wet and skin still moist from sweat. He thought I was signaling him over when I hit the horn.

I noticed him approaching and quickly tried gaining my composure, wiping the tears from my eyes and face. He approached my vehicle from the passenger side. I rolled the window down and stared forward. I didn’t want to look right at him, didn’t want him to know I had been crying.

“Yo, Blake,” he said, enthusiastically. “Amazing touchdown, bro! Can’t believe you-… Whoa! Man, what’s up,” he asked, apparently reading my face.

“It’s nothing, I’m okay,” I said, sniffing loudly.

He opened the passenger door, shoving his duffle bag and mine into the backseat. He climbed into the seat and shut the door. I looked down in my lap as he scanned the parking lot. He rolled up the passenger side window, knowing, obviously, that I needed privacy for whatever was bugging me.

“Blake. Come on, man. What’s wrong,” he asked, genuinely concerned.

“I already told you, damn it! Nothing’s fucking wrong,” I yelled at him, still staring down in my lap, picking at my cuticles.

“Blake, man, yell and lie to me all you want. But, I’m your best friend, you’re my best friend. I know when something’s wrong with you. You can’t hide it from me, bro. Talk to me, man.”

I don’t look at him. I can’t tell him. What if he hates me for being gay and never telling him after all these years?

Before I know it, I blurt it out.

“Well, I’ve been hiding it from you since we met, Chris.”

“What, are you trying to tell me you’re gay,” he said, jokingly, punching me in the arm like any friend would do, trying to cheer their buddy up.

I look up at him with a solemn look on my face, eyes still moist.

“Oh, man. Blake? You’re gay,” he asked, definitely shocked.

I look back down in my lap, shoulders bouncing up and down, crying again.

“Blake. No, I didn’t mean it like that, man,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “I’m just surprised. I honestly had no idea, bro.”

“Just get out of my car, Chris,” I said, sniffing and breathing through the tears.

“No.”

That’s all he said. A simple no.

“I said, get the fuck out of my car,” I yelled. I was upset at Gavin, but taking it out on Chris. That and I was afraid that I just ruined our friendship by coming out to him.

Chris, his hand still on my shoulder, gives my shoulder a squeeze.

“Blake, if you want me out of this car, you’re going to have to physically kick me out. I’m not leaving you here like this. I don’t give a damn if you’re gay. That doesn’t change who you are. I mean, I guess the only downside to that is, I lost my best wingman at parties. But, other than that…”

I cut him off with laughter.