Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50681 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 253(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Please, Chelsea. I’ll owe you for life. I stared at the message helplessly and added one more pathetic Please.
Next, I texted Nicole.
Thanks for the invite to the fund raiser, but I won’t be able to make it.
It was short and direct, and given the circumstances, it was all I needed to say. I barely knew the girl, and I had no interest in playing cyber games with selfies and misleading messages. I sucked at mind games and innuendo anyway. If it wasn’t real, I wasn’t interested.
And then, I called home.
I didn’t think this part would be too hard. My parents didn’t care if I wasn’t the smartest, strongest, or bravest. They accepted me as I was, and they’d always made an effort to be there for my brother and me. When my life had literally been in the balance, they’d made sure I knew I had their love and support. No matter what.
Unfortunately, that didn’t make me less anxious. I swiped my damp palms on my jeans and ran through the speech I’d prepared in my head one last time before pushing Send.
Mom picked up on the first ring. “Oh! Look at you! Are we really FaceTiming? This is fun!”
I let out a half laugh and leaned against my headboard. “Yeah. Real fun. Um…is Dad home too?”
“He’s right here.” She swiveled her phone and instructed my father to say hello.
He pulled his reading glasses off and set his iPad aside before greeting me. “You’re still in bed?” he teased. “Must be nice.”
“No. I’ve been up for hours,” I assured him with a wan smile. It felt like days.
“Oh. Did you have practice?”
“Not yet. Um…you’re coming tonight, right?”
“Of course! It’s a big game. We wouldn’t miss it,” Dad said enthusiastically.
Mom nudged his shoulder and adjusted the screen so she was mostly in the frame. Then she narrowed her eyes and gave me one of her patented no-nonsense looks. The one she used to remind me she was an expert at sniffing out trouble.
“What’s wrong, Evan?” Mom asked.
“Nothing,” I lied. “But I have to tell you something and…”
“What is it?” she prodded when I stalled. “Are you okay? You look fine. Are you sick? Did you get hurt? Is it your knee?”
“Mom, I’m okay. Really. I’m healthy. That’s not it.”
I pushed my free hand through my hair and fixated on the football on my desk before refocusing on my parents’ worried expressions. Fuck, I shouldn’t have FaceTimed. But I couldn’t wait till later and risk them hearing my news from someone else. And there wasn’t enough time to drive to Pasadena and back before I had to be at the field. This was it.
“Don’t make me guess, Evan. I can feel my hair turning gray. Could you please just—”
“I’m gay,” I blurted. I shook my head and released a rush of air before continuing in a fast clip, as though I had seconds to get the words out and make them count. “Actually, I’m bi. And I think you already know and I don’t think you care but if you do…well, I can’t change it. I can’t deny it anymore either.”
“O…kay,” Mom replied cautiously.
She didn’t seem less worried, so I kept talking, turning my gaze back to the football, like a focal point in a spinning room. “I figured I should tell you myself, so you know it’s real and not some internet rumor. I should have said it a long time ago, but…I didn’t want to be this way.”
“Oh Evan,” she said in a pained tone.
“It’s true. I swore after Graham…after everything that happened…I wasn’t gonna talk about it. It’s really hard to say out loud and it’s hard to explain why I feel the way I do. I’m not ashamed. I’m cool with who I am as a person, but for the first time I feel like I’m on the outside. It’s different. But I’m not different. I’m still me. And I…I didn’t want you to think I’ve changed, you know? ’Cause I haven’t.” I swallowed hard and repeated. “I’m just…me.”
I glanced at my screen when my mom’s breath hitched audibly. She dabbed at the corner of her eyes and leaned against Dad’s shoulder.
“Oh, Evan, we know,” she said. “We love you exactly the way you are.”
I gulped around the grapefruit lodged in my throat and nodded. “I love you too.”
“You must have met someone. Is it the young man from the videos? When can we meet him?” she asked softly.
I wiped a tear off my cheek and barked a quick laugh that had more to do with a sense of relief than humor. “Soon. I hope. I—thank you.”
“Don’t thank us,” Dad interjected in a heavier than usual accent. “Noi ti amiamo figlio. We know who you are and we know how strong you are…in your spirit. That is where strength counts.”