The anguished look he gives me breaks my heart.

How can he even think he’s a shitty parent? I’ve seen the way he’s raised May all these years. Every kid deserves parents that dedicated to them. If one day May has something important to tell her dad about herself, I’m sure she won’t be scared to do it.

“You’re doing the best job a parent could,” I tell him. “You and May have an incredible relationship. Just talk to her. She’ll either agree to go along with this, or she’ll tell you she’s not comfortable with it. And if she says that, then I know you won’t do it, because you always put her first.”

He takes a bite and chews slowly. As I watch him, taking in his features—the black-framed glasses, his defined jawline, his perfectly sculpted eyebrows, plump bottom lip glistening with grease and just about begging to be bit—it hits me that even though this is probably a bad idea, I almost want to do it. Some crazy, selfish part of me wants to know what it would feel like, pretending to be his boyfriend.

I bet it would feel good.

Even if it could never be real, because Brenden has a playful energy that would only get zapped out if he was foolish enough to fall for a guy like me.

When his tongue darts out to swipe at the grease on his lip, my eyes track the movement hungrily. “All right,” he finally says. “I’m gonna ask her.”

Well, okay then. I expect him to get up and do it right now, but he doesn’t. Instead we both stay here, finishing our beers.

This day has been a lot. While I’m not used to sharing my feelings with someone, what I am used to is pushing the idea of coming out to my dad to the back of my mind. I haven’t even considered it in so long. I don’t particularly want to consider it now, but Brenden’s quiet presence feels like a safe space, so my mind begins to wander.

It’s true my dad doesn’t seem to have a problem with any of the queer people in town. And it’s been so long since I heard him use the f-slur, that sometimes I almost question my memory and the stuff I heard from him back when I was young.

But then again, there’s also the fact that he’s constantly hounding me, asking when I’m going to find someone and get married. Never mind that my mom left him—and me—when I was little, and he’s been bitter about it for the last twenty-five years. Even though he never bothered to try again, he still pushes all that heteronormative crap on me. At least he hasn’t talked about wanting grandkids.

I haven’t been in a relationship in so long, and I haven’t missed it. But if I had the option to date someone here without hiding it, do I think that’s something I might want at some point?