Mitch frowned. “I don’t know. I—”
“The more data you collect, the better. I’m totally okay with it,” I intercepted. “Why not spread the word?”
“Chels’s audience is more varied and far-reaching than mine. I’ve purposely limited my exposure. I changed my handle and only invited people from my class and the LGBTQ Center and—”
“Why would you do that? I thought the idea was to get more viewers to collect data. This is for a grade, right?”
“I think this is where I scoot. Let me know what you want to do.” Chelsea kissed Mitch’s cheek and hugged me again before leaving us.
“Well?” I prodded. “What am I missing? I thought you had more followers than her.”
Mitch perched on the corner of the bench. “Under my own name, that’s true. But I made a new account for this project. I might have fifty viewers. It’s not ideal, but I’ll get a decent grade and—”
“Why would you keep it a secret?”
I watched his Adam’s apple move in his throat. He shifted on the bench and then shrugged. “I thought you might change your mind in the beginning. I didn’t want to introduce us to everyone and end up embarrassed when you pulled out. We have too much overlap. It would have been awkward. But when you didn’t go anywhere, I didn’t want to share you. I didn’t want anyone to point out all the reasons we’d never work. I didn’t want anyone to tell me what I already know. You’re good-looking, athletic, popular.…You’re out of my league.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s perception. And that’s what the project is about. A few people giving their two cents is normal. Thousands…I don’t know if I’m ready to lose quite so publicly.”
“Lose what?”
“You,” he replied quietly.
I sat beside him and pulled him against my side. “You aren’t going to lose me.”
“Evan, the only reason this works is because no one knows about us. And before you say it, my grandmother and best friend don’t count. In my experience, when more than five people know a closeted person is in a gay relationship, it’s just a matter of time before it all goes to shit.”
“I’m not Rory, and I—”
“But the story is the same!” He sighed in frustration and pulled away from me. “I’m a fucking magnet for gorgeous men with secret bi sides. It’s not you. It’s me.”
“Well, I think that’s bullshit. You’ve already decided you know I’m gonna fail. You haven’t given me a chance. I want a fair shot. Tell Chelsea to promote your page and then cross promote on your real site. Do this right and let’s get the fuckin’ A,” I insisted.
“But—”
“No ‘buts.’ Don’t tell me I’m gonna lose.”
“This isn’t a game.”
“I know what it is, and I know how I feel about you. Trust me.”
He met my gaze with a challenging one. “It’s a big audience, Ev.”
“How big?”
“A few hundred thousand.”
Oh. Wow. Way bigger than I thought.
“Do it.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.”
Mitch’s smile was more tentative than happy. It lacked confidence and though I wanted to be insulted, I understood. He was used to being left behind. By selfish parents and ex-boyfriends who put their insecurities before him. Geez, his last relationship was with a guy who tried to win him back by making him jealous…with a girl. He hadn’t had anyone go out on a limb and tell the whole fucking world how incredible he was. It wasn’t right. But I could change that.
7
Derek’s car was parked in the driveway later that night. That didn’t necessarily mean he was home. He spent a lot of time with Gabe, and I’d noticed they used his teammate’s car, which might have been to throw me off guard. Maybe that sounded paranoid, but I had a feeling the reason we didn’t see each other as often had more to do with his relentlessly squeaky bedsprings than a busy schedule.
Just last week, I’d left Mitch’s bed before dawn, driven home on empty city streets, tiptoed into my house and down the hall toward the bedrooms, only to stop short at the telltale sounds of sex coming from Derek’s room. The masculine grunts were reminiscent of what Mitch and I had been doing a few hours earlier. As long as I’d known Derek, he’d only been with women, but the walls were too thin to mask the obvious. So we were both bi. I’d heard their grand finale, punctuated with a loud moan and then soft laughter, and wondered if I should tell him I knew. And tell him about me.
I didn’t tell him that day, but I promised myself I would soon. When I was ready.
Maybe today.
I changed my clothes after practice that afternoon and was about to head to the kitchen when the door next to me clicked open. I listened to footsteps move down the hall, hushed whispers, and then the front door opening and closing. When I thought the coast was clear, I tiptoed down the hall to the kitchen.