Date Me, Bryson Keller(33)

I swear he looks at me when he says that, but it happens so quickly that when he pushes the auditorium doors open, I’m left feeling like I imagined it. Like I saw what I wanted to see and nothing more.

    Bryson Keller, are you gay?

As I watch him walk toward the stage, I can’t help but wonder that very thing. The auditorium is empty, and it’s funny that my week with Bryson started right here. This was where I first asked him out, and in the prop room was where I first came out to him.

“Kai?” he calls out again. “Earth to Kai.”

“What?”

“Where’d you go?” Bryson asks. “You seemed to be thinking really hard about something.”

“It’s nothing.” I shake my head. Now is not the time for me to be reminiscing. I need all the practice I can get. I join Bryson onstage and turn to look at the sea of empty seats. Even though there isn’t a soul out there, I feel my heart start to race and my hands grow sweaty. I feel sick. The thought of performing onstage is enough to turn my stomach. Now that I’m standing here, it feels all the more real.

Bryson rushes over to me. “You don’t look so good.”

“I don’t like acting.”

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Bryson says. “Trust me. Now as we rehearse, and Friday when we perform. Just trust me, and it’ll all be okay.” He rests his hand on my shoulder to reassure me. “You can always depend on me.”

Bryson takes his place and holds his script up before him. “You ready?”

    I nod, even though I don’t feel at all that way.

We run through the scene, both using our scripts. When we finish, Bryson stops and offers suggestions. We do it again, and when I mess up, Bryson continues to be supportive and calm.

By the third time, Bryson is off script. He moves with confidence, and as he delivers his lines, I find myself relaxing into the role. I’m nowhere near as good as he is. But when his character throws his arm around my shoulders, I don’t react like Kai would. I accept that I am Romeo in this scene, and he is my best friend.

I deliver my last line and turn to look at Bryson. We’re in our final position, so we’re close. We both pause at the sound of clapping. We turn to find Dustin standing there.

“That was so gay.” He laughs. My face reddens and I tense. Bryson must feel it because he puts some distance between us. I hate that I’m embarrassed right now. Angry not only at Dustin but at myself, too.

Bryson faces Dustin. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

“Coach wants to see you.” Dustin laughs. “Nice acting, dude.”

“Can you stop?” Bryson asks.

“Stop what?”

“Being an asshole.” Bryson shakes his head. My heart lifts. His words are the ones I want to say.

“Wow. I was only joking. No need to get touchy, man.”

“I’m not being touchy. I just hate that you said something stupid like that. You’re better than that, D.”

“You okay?” Dustin asks. “Did something happen?” He looks from Bryson to me.

    I shrug.

“Anyway,” Dustin says. “Coach wants to see you, if you have time?”

Bryson turns to me.

“You can go. You basically know all your lines. I just need to memorize mine now,” I say.

He nods. “I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.” I watch as Bryson and his best friend leave. I can see Bryson talking to Dustin, but I can’t hear about what. I’ve never had someone stand up for me. Being closeted has meant that I’ve always just had to listen and ignore the homophobic stuff because I’ve never wanted to put the spotlight on me. I’m thankful for Bryson, and more than that, I don’t want to stop spending time with him.

What happens next week when our relationship has ended? Do we go back to just passing each other in the halls and offering a smile here and a hello there? It’s a worry I’m starting to have.

The truth is, I really don’t want to go back to how it used to be between us. I want this, I want what we have now. I’m also starting to want it to be real. My heart is longing to forget that this is all a game. That thought both terrifies me and excites me. It’s so sudden, so soon. I’ve never believed that there’s a set amount of time before you can like someone.

When it happens, it happens.

And I can already tell that I am on the precipice of falling for Bryson Keller—my fake boyfriend.





14


Donny and I are standing amid a sea of crimson and white. I’m doing my part to fit in. I’m wearing black jeans and the only red T-shirt I own. When you blush as much as I do, it’s best to avoid the color. The sun has just set behind the soccer stadium. I occasionally come to watch Priya play, but Donny comes to every game. He is energy personified. Every time Priya touches the ball, he screams his heart out. His face is red not only from the shouting, but also from Priya’s number seven painted on his cheeks. I feel a pang of jealousy. I also want to date like this—out in the open and free.

Whatever tension there was earlier in the day seems to be forgotten. Just like I knew it would. Donny is the ever-supportive boyfriend. Still, he’s a nervous mess next to me. He’s been chewing his thumbnail ever since the away team leveled the score.