Date Me, Bryson Keller(39)

“Last Halloween. I was Jack Sparrow before Johnny Depp became a mess.”

“Cute.” He moves toward my bookshelf. “You have a lot of books.”

    “It’s the way to my heart,” I say before I catch myself. “I mean, my friends and family know what I want for presents.”

“When’s your birthday?”

I startle at the question. “April fifteenth. Why?”

“That’s soon. I better get book shopping.”

“Do you plan to still be dating me by then?” I mean it as a joke, but Bryson fixes me with a look, and when he answers, he’s dead serious.

“Yes.”

“We should stop,” I say, suddenly panicked.

I can’t fall any farther. Bryson Keller and this five-day relationship are quicksand. The more time I spend with him, the more I find myself sinking deeper and deeper. I’m not sure if he means the words he’s saying or if he’s simply playing the part of the perfect boyfriend. Delivering the lines that the role requires.

“Stop what?”

“This, whatever this is,” I say. “It’s getting too hard to figure out. Why are you doing this? Saying all these things?”

“Because I mean them,” Bryson says. “You may not believe me yet—hell, a part of me doesn’t believe it, either—but I’ve decided to live in the here and now and trust myself.” The sincerity in Bryson’s words is impossible to ignore.

We stare at each other. This is it. This is the whole reason I invited him over.

“Please, trust me,” Bryson says. “I need you to trust me. This is all scary and new for me, too.”

    “What do you mean?” I ask. I need him to say it. Is that unfair of me? I don’t know.

“I don’t think I’m straight. I mean, I never really had a reason to question it until I met you.” His brow is furrowed. “Surely I should have known this about myself from the start?”

I’m surprised by how easily he’s admitted it. “How are you so comfortable with all this?”

“It’s hard to explain, but for the longest time something has felt off. I didn’t know what it was until this week, until you. It’s like spending time with you and listening to you talk about being gay made sense to me. Everything finally clicked. Like a puzzle.” Bryson shakes his head. He rubs his hands on his shorts, almost like they’re sweaty. Bryson’s standing near my bookshelf, and I’m at the foot of my bed. Even though there’s distance between us, this is the closest we’ve ever been.

I’m nervous, and I can only imagine what Bryson’s heart must be doing.

“I don’t know if it’s weird that I didn’t know this about myself,” Bryson continues. “I was on Reddit reading about first-time experiences with guys and I came across this one post. He shared how all through high school he thought he was straight, and then he got to college and met this guy who was gay and found himself attracted to him. Is that what’s happening with me?”

“It’s different for everyone. There are no hard-set rules,” I say. His words bloom in my chest. They are everything I wanted to hear from him…needed to hear. I close the distance between us. I could reach out to touch him if I wanted. Our eyes lock.

    “I guess you’re right.” He runs a hand through his hair. “The truth is that I don’t know if I’m gay. Yes, I like you, but does that mean I’m gay, too? You’re the first guy I’ve liked. The only one so far. Maybe I’m bi?” He throws his hands up. “I don’t know. Shouldn’t I know? But, I mean, I’ve always believed love is love.”

“It doesn’t have to make you anything. Besides, you can figure it out later. It’s been less than a week. Trust me, it took me a couple of years before I understood that I was gay. And a bit more time to accept it.”

“Can…can I figure it out with you?” he asks. Bryson leans against my bookshelf for a heartbeat before standing straight. Bryson looks unsure what to do with himself. He shuffles on his feet, and it’s clear that the confidence that is synonymous with Bryson Keller is gone.

“With me,” I say. “Let’s figure this out together.”

He smiles then—it’s part relief, part joy.

“Good.” Bryson exhales loudly. “Because this is all kinds of scary.” He holds up his thumb and finger so that they are inches apart. “But you make it a little less scary.”

“You’ve been putting on a brave face.”

“I was worried that you would run away. It’s a lot of pressure for me to say to you that because of you I’m starting to think that maybe I’m not straight.”

“I won’t run,” I say.

“Well then, we should celebrate,” Bryson says.

    “What do you want to do?”

“Let’s go on a date. It’s Thursday afternoon. I doubt anyone we know will be around. I think it’s the perfect time.” It’s clear he’s put thought into this.

This week I’ve already spent so much time with Bryson. We’ve gotten breakfast together before school and he’s driven me home. We even watched a movie together. Those could all be considered dates, but Bryson doesn’t seem to feel that way.