Page 75 of Roommate
“Well…” I say. “It’s just that you haven’t told anyone close to you that you’re into men.”
“Nope,” he agrees, sipping his beer. “I also haven’t told them that I might try for a college degree. Or that I’ve started painting again. Everything is on a need-to-know basis.”
“But why?” I press, even though I’ll probably regret it.
He wipes his mouth on a napkin and then looks down at his bowl. “My family is weird, Roddy. We don’t tell each other the things that matter. We only talk about the things that don’t. We never share.”
“But what would happen if you did?” I whisper, hoping he won’t hate me for asking. “I’m not judging you. I’m just trying to understand.”
He sits back in his chair. “If I tell all my truths, then it could make other people tell theirs. And some of that stuff is ugly. I really don’t need to hear everyone else’s secrets. It’s better this way.”
“You don’t want to make them say it out loud? What they’d think about you and me?” I clarify.
“Exactly. It’s just a bad idea. Because then it’s too real, and I’m stuck laboring on a farm for a man who openly hates me. And if I stop helping, I’m bailing on my mother and my brother.”
Well, heck. I have never navigated that particular minefield. My parents’ disapproval is more or less in alignment. I take another bite and try to think. “I’ve met some of your extended family, though, and they seem pretty great.”
“They are,” he agrees. “And as long as I toe the line, I get to keep the good people in my life. I don’t ever have to find out whose side they’d be on if they knew how things really are at my house. And anyway—why I should go first? Nobody else tells the truth. Why me?”
“Because it might set you free?” I say softly.
He makes a face. “It might, or it might not. I could be the guy who broke the truce and blew the whole family sky high.”
“It’s a risk,” I concede. Sometimes I forget that Kieran was living at home when I met him. Independence is still new to him. After a little time passes, he might realize that his father—or whoever—doesn’t control him anymore.
“Besides,” he says, pushing his empty bowl away. “School might not work out. I might be a shit painter. And you might leave Vermont. Then I would have stuck my neck out for nothing.”
My chopsticks pause on the way to my bowl. Because he’s right about that last thing. I’ve made him no promises. I was so careful not to. “The thing is, Kieran?” I take a breath and gather my courage. This usually ends badly. But I’m already used to being the guy who cares too much. “You’re the kind of guy who’s worth sticking around for. Just so you know.”
He gives me a slow blink. “I am?” It doesn’t sound like he believes me.
“A hundred percent. So just… Think it over.”
The waitress picks that moment to approach our table, ruining the moment. Of course, she does. “Can I bring you boys any dessert? Or another drink?”
We ask for the check, because it’s getting late, and neither one of us wants to overspend. Kieran tries to pay, but I insist on splitting it. “I didn’t ask you out to dinner to make you pay.”
“I know that,” he says. “But I really needed a night out, and I didn’t even know it. And you just had that car-repair bill.”
He’s right about the car-repair bill. It was ghastly. And the shop warned me that other issues are lurking on the horizon. But I still won’t let him pay. I plunk down my half and close the bill wallet.
“Suit yourself,” he says. “We’ll just come here again next week, then.”
* * *
Outside, the storefronts of Montpelier have been decorated with white lights and fake snow, because we don’t have the real stuff yet. “I love Christmas,” I gush.
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? Lights. Carols. Wrapping paper. Christmas cookies.”
“Okay—I understand the cookies.” He bleeps the locks on his truck. “The rest of it never turns out like it does on TV, though.”
Of course he’s a hundred percent right. I’ve never had a Christmas that even came close to fulfilling my Hallmark fantasies. But I can’t quit hoping. “Do you think we’ll get more snow soon? I haven’t had a snowy Christmas in a few years.”
Kieran’s lips quirk up in a smile. “You’ll get your snow, probably. And nobody makes better cookies than you.”
As usual, the praise makes me light up inside. “Play your cards right, and you can have all my cookies.” Somehow this comes out sounding flirtatious. I have a gift. Kieran’s smile only widens. Then he leans in and gives me a long, slow kiss, right here on the street where anyone might see.
