Page 142 of Fight or Flight
She laughs. “I completely understand. I used to cringe so hard when I’d overhear your grandparents talking about all the crazy things they got up to when they were young. It’s weird to think of your parents as anything other than parents, even when you’re my age.”
“So weird,” I agree. “And even weirder to think of Grandma and Grandpa being young and raising hell. I’ve heard enough stories about what Dad got up to when he was in the Rebels that I’ve actively avoided learning about what shenanigans the rest of our family tree has gotten up to over the years.”
“I remember this one time when I snuck your dad into Belmont so he could?—”
“Nope,” I cut in. “Fully formed adults, remember?”
“My mistake,” she says with a laugh.
“How’re you doing?” I ask.
“Good. I’m meeting up with some of the ladies from the historical council in a few hours, so I’m just killing time until then. I wasn’t calling for any particular reason,” she adds before I can ask. “I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”
“I’m doing good.”
“Classes are going okay?”
“Yup.”
That’s not a lie, but it isn’t the entire truth. I’ve been skipping a lot of classes recently, but I’m keeping up with the work, so my grades aren’t suffering, which is all my parents or the school care about.
“Have you met anyone new? Maybe a special girl?” she asks, and the hope in her voice is as clear as day.
My parents met right here at Silvercrest when my dad was a sophomore and Mom was a freshman. They dated the entire time Mom was in school and got engaged a week afterher graduation. Six months later, they were married, and after twenty-seven years, they’re still going strong.
I know they both hoped that I’d find my special someone here, but they’ve been good about not pushing things or nagging me about my lack of interest in dating and relationships, which I definitely appreciate after hearing the horror stories from some of the guys around here about the insane pressure they’re under to get married, or at least get into a serious relationship, with someone their parents approve of.
“No, no special girl,” I tell her, and a weird pit forms in my stomach.
I haven’t met any special girls, but there’s a guy who’s been wreaking havoc on my sanity, and I literally have no one I can talk to about it.
The guys in the house aren’t an option, and not because Jace is a guy or anything like that. I’ve already come to terms with the fact that I’m not straight, and that I’m attracted to Jace. The real reason I can’t talk to anyone around here about it is that it’sJace, the guy I’ve hated since freshman year, and the guy I’m going to have to share the house leadership with next year.
“Shane?” she asks after a few beats of silence pass between us. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly. Too quickly.
“Okay,” she says gently. “But you can talk to me about whatever’s going on.Ifsomething is going on.”
I start to tell her that everything is fine, but stop before I can get the words out.
I’m not fine, and I really need to talk to someone about what’s been happening.
My mom and I have always been close, and I’ve always felt comfortable talking to her about things that others might be hesitant to tell one of their parents. But I’m going to have tocome out to her at some point, so I might as well do it now. Two birds, one stone, and all that jazz.
“Actually, there is something,” I say slowly.
“What is it, sweetie?” she prompts when I don’t continue.
“I’m not exactly sure how to say this,” I tell her honestly.
“You’re not?”
“No.” I pull in a deep breath. “So I guess just saying it is probably best. Like ripping off a bandage. Quick and painless.” I drag in another deep breath. “I don’t think I’m straight,” I blurt out in a rush.
“You don’t think you are?” she asks tentatively.
“I know I’m not,” I whisper. “I’m bi.”
