Page 48 of 12 Gays of Christmas

“And?” I ask, trying not to sound impatient.

“And…he kissed me.”

“Nat!” My voice is louder than I mean, and she darts a quick glance at the door. Right. Don’t get the parents involved. “First off, be careful. Guys—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

I don’t want to say the next part, but she’s confiding in me. “He obviously likes you.”

“You think so?”

“Seriously? He tells you things he doesn’t tell anyone else. He does things just to make you happy. He kissed—” I’m not sure what clues me in first. The knowing glint in her eye or the smug smile on her face. But I haven’t mentioned certain things. And never will. “Who told you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m hanging up.”

We both know it’s a bluff, and her laugh just emphasizes that point. “Chill, bro. Remi told me.”

I glare at her. “Why are you talking to my sworn enemy?”

“Dramatic much? What’s the problem, Colin? Gil is obviously madly in love with you.”

“It’s not like that.” I change the view so she can see the chalkboard. “See? He’s actively looking for a guy.”

“And crossing them off.”

“Because he’s trying to be something he’s not. He just needs to be himself.”

“Or, hear me out, he’s in love with you.”

I turn the view so she can see I’m serious. “I don’t need you matchmaking.”

“Duh. The match is already there. I’m just pointing it out. You know what I don’t hear you saying? ‘I’m not in love with Gil.’ Take your shot, Col. Tell him how much youlurvehim.”

I’m shaking my head before she even finishes her pep talk. “I can’t go through that again.”

“That football player was an ass. And Remi wasn’t your fault.”

“You know way too much about my life. So this guy in your chemistry class doesn’t exist?”

“Oh, he exists. Unlike you, I take chances. I kissedhim.” She pulls a chain from around her neck. A class ring dangles at the end of it. “You can meet him when you get here.”

My baby sister is growing up. I miss her. I miss being home. Emotion clogs my throat, and behind it is the fear of messing everything up. “If Gil likes me, why wouldn’t he just tell me?”

“It’s no secret that you don’t date football players,” she says, and then adds almost to herself, “because of one asswipe.”

“Gil isn’t like that. He’s different.”

She glares at me like I’m a complete idiot. I feel like one. Getting advice from my younger sister? Pathetic. “Have you told him that? Or let him believe he doesn’t have a shot with you?”

“How did you get so smart?” I ask, and then before she can reply, I add, “Don’t answer that. And stop talking to my ex.”

* * *

It takes foreverto find something to wear. I’ve never been to a party that consists mostly of football players. The jerk wad wanted to keep our relationship quiet. No one knew he was bi, but I suspect it had more to do with him not wanting to be seen with a nerd. His word. Not mine. A few months after breaking up with me—and his girlfriend—he started dating another guy. A jock. And then he had no problem coming out.

Whatever. I’ve learned my lesson.

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