Page 48 of Ancient History

“Nah, man. A hole is a hole.”

“I guess that’s true. Did you always know you were a…hole-sexual?” I would never get used to saying that word aloud.

He sifted through the clothes on my bed, pursing his lips like he was damn Anna Wintour, someone I only knew from my Nashville teammates who got to go to the Met Gala one year. My confidence plummeted in the face of his withering expressions.

“I figured it out in college, like most people.” He tossed rejected outfits on the floor, until my bedspread was coming into view. “I was torn between this guy and this chick, first time that had ever happened. I didn’t know if I was gay because I really liked the chick. And then I realized that the whole package of a person was what I was looking for. The male or female or non-binary part of it was only part of what attracted me to them. It was the whole that I cared about more than the sum of their equipment.”

Then, it clicked for me. “You’re awholesexual. W-h-o-l-e.”

“Yeah. Wholesexual. What’d you think I meant?”

I could feel my face turn red. “Nothing. I’m out of clothes.”

I pointed to my bed, completely devoid of clothes.

“This all you got?”

“There was nothing good on that,”deep breath, Hutch“whole pile?”

“It’s like if wet farts got into designing clothes.” Raleigh strode past me and fished through my closet. Hangers swished across the pole with lightning speed. “My friend, if you want Amos to notice you, then you need to peacock tonight.”

“What’s that?” I steeled myself for another TMI explanation.

“Peacocking is when you wear something flashy to get people’s attention. You don’t want to dress as your normally preppy self. You want to get to that crowded party and immediately stand out to Amos.”

“Or other people,” I said sheepishly.

His cocked eyebrow called bullshit. “That is your goal, right?”

It shouldn’t have been. I told myself that flirting with Amos was a no-go, but Raleigh got me all excited about the possibility of pulling his attention. And so I nodded yes.

“Found it!”

I wasn’t sure what I expected Raleigh to find in my closet, but my loud, garish ‘90s shirt was at the bottom of my list. Loud wasn’t the right word.

Itscreamedat me.

The short-sleeve button down shirt was covered in circles and triangles and squares and waves in various offensively bright colors. It was a relic straight out of the ‘90s, something that would fit in at a Blockbuster or a Radio Shack.

“That’s not a real shirt. I found that online for South Rock’s ‘90s Day when I was in high school. It’s a novelty shirt. It’s not meant to be worn in public except for explicitly ironic reasons.”

The more Raleigh stared at it, the more he nodded at his genius idea.

“No way, dude.”

“Aw, c’mon. Try it on.” He tossed it over.

I made sure he didn’t have his phone out before I slipped it on. My mirror nearly exploded from the retro vibes and vivid colors. I turned as pink as some of the shapes floating across my chest.

“I don’t know about this, man.”

“Dude, trust me. You look awesome.” Raleigh looked at me with wide eyes like he was Dr. Frankenstein watching his monster walk. “It rocks. This is going to make a statement. And you and Amos went to high school together, so he might remember you wearing it.”

I hated and loved Raleigh’s logic. Either Amos would get a kick out of this shirt, or I’d be laughed out of the party.

Only one way to find out.

15

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