Page 64 of Icing on the Cake

I hear someone shout in the distance and look up in time to see Nathan walking toward me. Panic surges through me, and I snap the book shut, my face going beet red.

“Gunnarson! What’re you doing here?” Nathan’s wearing his usual running gear—a sleeveless tee and leggings—and sweat already mats his hair.

“Waiting for a friend.” I do my best to sound casual, but there’s a slight quiver to my words. “What’s up?”

He nods toward the book in my hand. “Since when do you read stuff like that?”

I fumble for an answer. “It’s…for a class.”

Nathan shrugs. “Whatever helps you score, man.” He glances around, then back at me. “Hey, we’re hitting the gym in an hour. You in?”

“Can’t today. Got plans.”

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press further. “Alright, see you later then.”

Nathan walks away, and I realize my palms are sweating. I rub them on my thighs before picking the book up again. I read thefinal words of the chapter: “Understanding your sexuality takes time. It’s okay to be confused.”

I close the book at the same time the doors of Russo Hall burst open, and a stream of students pours out. I scan the crowd for Elliot’s tiny frame and spot him near the back, shuffling slowly with his head down.

Even from this far away, I can tell he’s exhausted. Between school and working at the library, he must be running himself ragged. I know I’m the last one to talk, with hockey eating up all ofmyfree time, but I know what it can do to the body, the mind, and the soul if you don’t take a moment to rest.

I stand up and wave, towering over everyone else. Elliot lifts his head, and surprise crosses his features when he sees me.

“Thought we could have lunch together.” He shrugs, and we walk over to the table and sit down. Opening the bag, I give him his food and take mine. “Hope you like meat.”

“I love meat.” For a split second, I think he’s being genuine. But then his lips twitch, and the double meaning nearly has me falling out of my seat.

“Uh, that’s good,” I mumble. “Would’ve been awkward if you were a vegetarian or something.”

He barks out a small, triumphant laugh—probably pleased with himself for making me blush—and unwraps his food. I take mine out, and the thing is huge, even for my hands.

The sounds of rustling leaves and distant student chatter fill the silence as we chow down. I steal glances at Elliot from time to time. The way he eats makes me wonder if he’s trying to make it last. His bites are careful and tiny.

“How did you know?” I ask, breaking the silence.

Elliot pauses mid-bite, and his brown eyes lock onto mine through his glasses. “Know what?”

“That you’re gay.” I shift uncomfortably on the bench as his eyes narrow. He’s scrutinizing me, and I’m not sure how I feel about that. “How did you realize? And how did you come out?

He sets his wrap down and wipes his hands on a napkinbefore launching into an explanation. “There was this guy in ninth grade—Kris Collins. He was on the swim team. Tall, a brunette, had that whole surfer-dude thing going on. I was completely enamored with him.”

I try to picture a young Elliot crushing on some jock, and it makes me weirdly jealous, even though I know it’s ancient history.

“For the longest time, I convinced myself that it was admiration. But then I started obsessing over every little detail about him. His smile. The way he walked. His stupidly perfect ass—it’s because of him I love big butts, you know.” My eyebrows raise at that. “It wasn’t until eleventh grade that I admitted the truth to myself. No straight guy spends that much time thinking about another dude.”

There’s a sadness in his eyes but also a hint of nostalgia.

“Coming to terms with it was one thing. Telling other people was another. My mom took it fine; she said she had an inkling. That was news to me—I thought I’d done a good job hiding it. Friends were supportive for the most part, though a couple ended up distancing themselves.”

I take a moment to process his story. He makes it sound like he was ticking boxes on a checklist.

Admit to self: check. Tell his mom: check. Come out to friends: check.

“So, how did you come out to Jackson and Sarah?”

He smiles. “Sarah was easy. She knows these things. We were working a late shift at the library one night, and she asked if I had a crush on any cute boys. That was her way of telling me she knew and that it was cool.”

He picks up his wrap and takes another bite.

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