“You’re, what, Caleb? You’re what?” I bark, turning to sit sideways on the bench so I can face him head on. I can see him better now, but the slats of the bench dig into my thigh like individual icicles. Heat is radiating off of Caleb’s body and I want to burrow into it, wrap my arms around him, place my numb nose into the crook of his jaw. The impulse surprises me because it isn’t the usual kind of “wrap my arms around Caleb” kind of impulse. He’s in pain and I want to hold him, comfort him, tell him it’s all right, but I can’t. I don’t know why he’s hurting and so I can’t make it better. I feel totally powerless.

It is the worst feeling I have ever felt. For a brief moment, I understand what my parents must go through on a daily basis with me and suddenly I’m unable to breathe.

“Nothing. Just forget about it, okay?” And with that, Caleb stands abruptly.

“No, come on, you know you can tell me stuff. What’s bothering you?” I follow him, standing but not moving away from the bench. It feels like I’m holding something precious and fragile that a soft breeze could blow away, taking it from me forever.

“Nothing, okay? I’m sorry for—you don’t need to worry about it.” Caleb finally turns to look at me and there’s something helpless in his eyes. “I don’t want you worrying about it.”

“I’m not worrying about it,” I insist, even though I am. “I just want to know what’s going on with you.”

“There’s nothing going on with me!”

“Yes, there is, Caleb!” I’m gripping so hard on the precious thing in my hands so that it doesn’t float away that I just might break it instead. “And you never talk to me about it and I get that maybe you’re not comfortable, but I’m not going to judge you or anything. You can tell me. I want to know.”

“God, Adam,” he exclaims, “just because you’re a know-it-all doesn’t mean you deserve to know absolutely everything.”

That stings more than I’d like to admit, and I see my flinch reflected on Caleb’s face. That bugs me even more—why should he look hurt over something he said?

“And just because you’re the jock,” I counter, “doesn’t mean you have to be so emotionally stunted!”

The flinch is bigger this time and the bottom of my stomach drops out.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” he bites.

“Look”—my voice drops—“I’m sorry, okay? I’m just confused.”

Caleb closes his eyes and breathes deep.