Page 34 of Advanced Chemistry

“I won’t.”

“I mean it.”

“You can trust me. I didn’t tell anyone you were gay in high school.”

“I came out my freshman year.”

“Well, I still didn’t tell anyone.” She grabbed my hand in both of hers, her eyes basically pleading with me. “Sebastian, I will not tell a soul. I promise. Please, I need this gossip or else I don’t know if I can go on.”

“Melodramatic much?” I inhaled a calming breath. I couldn’t believe I was about to say this sentence aloud. “It was with Anton and Mr. Mathison, our old chemistry teacher.”

Savannah stared at me unblinking.

“You okay?”

“I think I just had ten strokes at once.”

I gave her a very brief rundown of what happened last weekend. As scared as I was about spilling the beans, it was a relief to share it with an objective third party. Yet it wasn’t the sex part that Savannah got stuck on. Her face dissolved from giddy shock to something more heartfelt.

“So you and Anton finally hooked up?” I’d never heard her sound so sweet. Anyone who was close friends with me long enough usually found out about my crush on Anton, either by obvious context clues or me confessing my hidden feelings outright. Savannah had known about the crush for a few years, but to her credit, she never pushed me to act on it. She understood the complicated tightrope I walked.

“It was just the heat of the moment,” I said.

“Are you sure about that?”

“We talked about it. Anton was just having fun. You know Anton.”

“He loves to have fun,” she said with a slight eye roll. “And he kissed you for fun.”

“Heat of the moment,” I reiterated, reaffirming this point for me.

“Was it good?”

I gave an exaggerated nod. There was no word that could describe how good it felt to taste Anton’s lips. Only noises not appropriate for the library.

Savannah studied me as if I were on her final. “Sebastian had a fucking threesome. What was it like getting with Mr. Mathison?”

“That was also very good.” Despite my feelings swirling for Anton, I wouldn’t forget how drop-dead sexy Chase was on Saturday. He was adorably awkward at SpringFest, and then ravenous back at our apartment, then adorably awkward when he scrambled out the door. It was a thrilling kind of whiplash. I always appreciated a guy who could keep me on my toes.

“I’m debating whether or not I want details on that. I’ll keep you posted.” Savannah’s face softened as it looked like a pang of pity flashed across her eyes. “How are you feeling about everything?”

I shrugged. “Good.”

“Sebastian, you hooked up with the guy you’ve been pining over for years. You are not good.”

That was the problem with friends; they had the power to read you.

“I told him I was cool with everything.”

“Ugh, but you’re not!” She slammed her head into her pile of books.

“Yes, I am. How do you know?”

“Because you’re not the Cool Girl.”

“I’m not a girl period.” Trying to stay on Savannah’s wavelength tonight was impossible. Med school was definitely breaking her brain.

“The Cool Girl is what every guy wants. She’s a hot chick who he can bang for fun and not get attached. Have you really never read or watchedGone Girl? Ben Affleck goes full-frontal.”

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