“Julian’s old boyfriend,” Camille singsongs. “He was just the sweetest thing, and he made the most gorgeous homecoming garter for Julian sophomore year. I was so jealous.”

“Camille, stop,” Julian says, his eyes fixed on his empty Styrofoam sundae cup.

I’ve suddenly lost my appetite for my swirl cone, and I leave it dripping on a napkin. Julian had a boyfriend. Not long after I left, either. The thought of someone else touching him, putting a garter around his bicep, looking at him… it’s enough to make the tips of my ears turn pink, too. I don’t know what I expected. That a guy like Julian would sit around and pine for me after I left? After one kiss?

It wasn’t something I had time to think about when I was in Houston. But now, seeing him in front of me and seeing how just the name Reece affects Julian, it makes me wonder. Did he react that way to my name before he saw me again? Did the thought of me turn his ears pink?

That’s ridiculous, Elijah. It was one kiss. You’re the one that walked away without saying goodbye. Julian moved on. Obviously. With a boy named Reece who would probably never leave without saying goodbye.

Maybe I wasn’t exactly nice after that one kiss.

Maybe there was more going on at home than my fourteen-year-old self could handle, and maybe I wasn’t exactly the picture of maturity.

Maybe I hadn’t known what to do with that newfound thing with Julian.

I had known I was gay since I was a little tiny kid. Can’t really put words to that, honestly, but sometimes it’s just something you know in your bones. It was for me, at least. I’d been out since seventh grade. Everyone really kind of knew, anyway. Coming out wasn’t a huge deal. Frankie cried, but they were happy tears. The next day she bought me a pride flag and hung it on my bedroom wall with thumbtacks. Dad was gone by then, and Ma just kind of said, “Oh. Okay,” and smiled at me. Maybe I was hoping for a little more than that from her, but my mother wasn’t exactly known for her warmth. Ma was always busy or harried or just not available. Especially after my father went away. Frankie and I tried to stay out of her way for the most part. It’s not that she didn’t love us or care about us; she just had a very different way of showing it. Putting food on the table and making sure we had a safe roof over our heads was her way. I don’t fault her for that.