and I pretend to like the taste

I listen as mom sips wine,

talks about how her

friend’s son came out and

went to Pride

She doesn’t realize the curl of her lips

as she sighs and says

“There’s nothing to be proud of.”

The liquid stains her teeth

as she asks me when I will

bring home a Christian girl

“How about Courtney

from down the road?

She seems nice”

and I nod because mom is right

I take Courtney to the movies

to the Italian joint

in the center of our small town

She’s nice. We laugh over calzones

and she grabs my hand and says,

“Your fingers are so big,

and mine are so small and

fit into yours

like the pieces of a puzzle.”

Except one of the pieces

doesn’t fit

so I smile—it’s what I do—

and tell my best friend I’ll marry her one day.

I convince my reflection.

Then there’s you

with eyes like a mirror

full of divine conviction

your irises undiscovered galaxies

shards of broken glass

distorted by tears

mine and yours

you don’t demand anything from me

but me

And I run away

because I fear what I see

when I look at you,

the endless possibilities

and your inevitable

disappointment …

Jack looks up at me, tears swelling his eyes.

Applause thunders around him.

He bows his head and makes a dash for the door.

I leave my plate of now-cold chicken nuggets on the table and find him outside on the stone patio, leaning against the railing overlooking a patch of grass between the campus center and the glass-enclosed fitness center.

It’s eerily empty out here tonight.

Jack’s shoulders hunch like a vulture. His back rises and falls. He’s either crying or breathing heavily.

My sneakers scrape the pavers, and he tilts his head toward me.

“There’s a reason I don’t let people read my writing. It’s fucking brutal. Like ripping open my own chest.”

“Jack—” I don’t even know what I’m going to say.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he says. “I screwed up, Chase. I should never have kissed you.”

Oh. Yeah, that’s not what I would have said. But good to know where he’s at.

He waits for me to say something—anything—but the hurt and whatever gooey feelings I have for him are being blocked by an anger I’ve been letting slowly build.