Stupid Love (Stumbling into Love 1)

You know, there was this guy I went to high school with. Neither of us was out, and we didn’t have shit in common, but we gravitated toward each other for some reason. We became friends. Years later, I ran into him. He’s out and proud, and I realized that as queer people, we seem to gravitate to each other because we get it. I can’t promise everyone will be outgoing and friendly. That’s not the way the world works. There are queer assholes just like there are straight ones, but I think you’ll find someone you can talk to.

If not, check queer online spaces.

I don’t know if you need to hear it, but there’s nothing wrong with who you are. I know every situation is different, but if you can get out of the town that holds you down, try. If you can’t do that safely, maybe try and find a queer-friendly therapist?

I’m going to keep thinking of other options for you. Thank you for trusting me with your story. I feel like I’m not much help, but I’m here, and my email is always open to you.

Sincerely,

Anonymous.

When I finished reading, I stared at my computer for a long time. It wasn’t until a drop of moisture hit my keyboard, followed by another, that I realized I was crying.

CHAPTER NINE

Shaw

Boom! Boom! Boom!

I jerked awake at the banging sound coming from outside my apartment. What the fuck? I sat there for a moment, thinking maybe I was imagining things, when it came again. Boom! Boom! Boom!

Heart in my throat, I scrambled out of bed. There was no good reason for someone to be pounding on my door at—I ripped my phone from the bedside table—three in the morning. Sleepily, I tugged on a pair of basketball shorts before making my way into the living room, turning on lights as I went.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

I looked through the peephole to see Elijah standing there. I unlocked and tugged open the door, a feeling of unease twisting in my gut. “What happened? Are you okay?”

He untangled his arms and poked me in the chest. “Who.” Another poke. “Are.” Yet another one. “You?” And one more for good measure. I was assuming by his statement that nothing was, in fact, wrong.

“The guy you woke up in the middle of the night? Are you high or something?”

“What? No.” He slipped past me into my apartment.

“Well, okay, why don’t you come in?” I closed the door behind him. This guy was getting on my nerves. I wasn’t sure what it said about me that I liked it. “To what do I owe this after-midnight visit? You already kept me from getting laid tonight. Apparently, you’re going to keep me from sleeping as well.”

“How did I keep you from getting laid?”

For the first time since I opened the door, I took him in. He was wearing a dark-blue, cropped pajama tee that said Wake me up with cuddles and matching shorts. Fuck, he had nice legs. Dancer’s legs, all muscular and toned, but lean too, and coupled with creamy chestnut skin… Not gonna lie, I was thinking about what his thighs would feel like wrapped around me when he said, “Wait. Are you checking me out?”

“Can you blame me?” I rubbed a hand over my face. “And again, why are you here? I’m tired and horny.” I plopped down onto the couch with a sigh.

Elijah groaned and began pacing my apartment. I crossed my arms and let him do his thing. Obviously, he was working through something in his head. He didn’t seem to need me for that, so I wondered why he hadn’t done it in his apartment and let me sleep.

“I read it,” he finally said.

“Read what? You’re gonna have to give me more to go on than that.”

“Your stupid post to Lonely in Rural America. Why do you fuck with my brain so much? I don’t understand you—at all. It’s trippin’ me the hell out, in case you couldn’t tell. Lord, what am I even doing here? I’m going home.”

He headed for the door but stopped when I said, “Wait.”

Elijah didn’t turn around, but he didn’t leave either. He stood there with his back to me, and somehow, I knew him well enough to realize that if I spoke, it would ruin it and he’d walk out. Don’t ask me why I cared if he left, but some part of my idiot brain did.

“You don’t make any sense!” he said, turning around. “You give love advice, yet you don’t believe in love.”

“For myself,” I clarified, though I didn’t quite get why others were so into it for themselves either.

“Whatever. Same thing.” He waved his hand in the air. “You’re probably the most cocky man I’ve ever known. You’re a serial hookup artist, yet you tell Rural to really think it through before he finds someone to have sex with. You unabashedly flirted with me through email, even though I told you I was in love with someone else, yet you’re staunch in your rules about no cheating or lying and making sure no one gets hurt. And fuck, Shaw, that post…the way you offered to be there for him. It was so sweet, and it’s you, so all this shit is fucking with my head!”