My god. She thinks he’s in love with her.

“What?” she barks. “Did I shock you?” I don’t answer quickly enough. “You’re gay! That’s way more out there than me liking an older man.”

“A married one, three times your age.”

“Married to a frigid shrew, which is an unjust punishment of some kind. And come on: I’m eighteen, and he’s only twenty-six! We could have almost gone to school together.”

“When he graduated from high school, you were in, what, fourth grade?”

“I said almost.” She looks away for a moment, shaking her head. “I thought you’d be cool.” She turns her gaze to meet mine. “Why are you freaking out?”

“Because he’s your teacher and a legit adult, and he has not only a wife but all the power here. He could ruin you.”

“I don’t think he’s running to Frohmeyer to confess our relationship any time soon.”

“I bet he’s banking on you thinking that.”

“Have you even met him? He’s the nicest guy, the kindest.” I shudder. If only she knew I really can picture him three times her age, still hooking up with seventeen-year-olds. “He’s incredibly sweet—unlike you, ’cuz you’re being a dick—and he gets me. We’re going to get married as soon I’m out of here.”

“After the divorce …”

“Obviously.”

“Which takes how long?”

“How would I know?”

“And is he moving to New York with you and Chaz? Are you going to be roomies?”

She is full-on mad. “You sound like Chaz. Are all gay guys so mean to their own friends?”

“Maybe we just watch out for people we care about. You said it yourself: you’re my friend.”

“Judging is not super friendly.” She stares at the sky for a moment, and I do too. I don’t want her to have anything to do with Buckman—I mean, nothing good can come from it—but I also hope I haven’t blown it with her because my circle here is already small. Her voice is soft. “He loves me, you know.”

What can I say? “Do you love him?”

More silence. More stars. “I think so. I mean, I’m pretty sure. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. And we’ve done stuff …” Her words are tinged with thrill, regret, awareness. There is so much color in her voice, which is lower than ever. “I already imagined our life together, so …”

I don’t argue anymore. Instead, I slip my arm around her, and she rests her head on my shoulder. I make a promise I don’t know how to keep. “You don’t have to worry. My lips are sealed, and my ears are open.”

She doesn’t look at me. “Good.” She relaxes. “Good.”

Blinded by the Light

Blinded by the Light