Felix Ever After(34)

My breath catches in my throat. It almost feels like Declan’s about to confess to everything—to the trolling, to the gallery.

luckyliquid95: What’re the mistakes you’ve made?

thekeanester123: I don’t know. The usual, I guess.

There’s a pause, and frustration builds as I try to think of what I could say to get him to keep going in a way that wouldn’t be too obvious, too desperate—but the phone buzzes in my hand.

thekeanester123: This has become a little too “forgive me father, for I have sinned.”

I smirk a little, even as I feel a wave of disappointment. I feel like I was seconds from getting the truth out of him.

luckyliquid95: There’re worst things than being a priest, I guess.

thekeanester123: I’ve kind of got a thing for priests, actually.

I stop, staring at my screen.

luckyliquid95: Um, sorry. What?

thekeanester123: I was raised Catholic, and there was this after-school program with the Sunday school priest, Father Duncan. He had no idea I had a crush on him, but he was always really nice and was never judgmental, and it was the first time I actually heard any sort of religious authority say that it’s okay to be gay, that God loves all of His creations. I’m not super religious now, but . . . I don’t know, I guess Father Duncan made a lasting impression on me.

luckyliquid95: . . . Priests? Really?

thekeanester123: Lol, yes. Don’t judge me.

luckyliquid95: I’m not judging you!

I’m 100 percent judging him.

luckyliquid95: So that, uh—priest uniform really does it for you?

thekeanester123: You just made me spit out my coffee. Priest uniform?

Of course he’s drinking coffee at eleven at night. It’s probably black, no cream or sugar.

luckyliquid95: I don’t know what it’s called. That white thing they wear around their necks.

thekeanester123: The . . . clerical collar . . . ?

luckyliquid95: I mean, of course you’d know what they’re called. You’re into them.

My dad shifts on the couch. “What’re you grinning about over there?”

I look up with a frown. “Grinning? I’m not grinning.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

I roll my eyes and look back at my phone.

thekeanester123: It’s not that I’m specifically into priests or their collars. It’s more like . . . I don’t know, I didn’t always have the easiest time being out, and sometimes I still feel a little . . . ashamed. Embarrassed. There’s something about priests, or any sort of religious figure, and being accepted by them that makes me . . . attracted to them.

luckyliquid95: Doesn’t seem super healthy.

I’d typed and pressed send without really thinking, but when he doesn’t respond right away, I bite my lip. I thought we were having fun, but maybe I took it too far. What if I say one wrong thing, make one wrong move, and he decides to stop speaking to me? But my phone buzzes in my hand again.

thekeanester123: Yeah. You’re probably right.

luckyliquid95: You know, I’m not a priest, but I can still listen. If you want me to, anyway.

This is its own particular brand of evil—telling someone that they can trust me, hoping that they’ll tell me something personal, just so that I can betray them.

thekeanester123: I appreciate that. It’s . . . easy to talk to you. I’ve never really spoken with anyone like this before.

The guilt twists in deeper.

luckyliquid95: If it makes you feel any better, I’ve made mistakes, too. I think we all have, even if no one really wants to admit it.

thekeanester123: I think that’s why I like talking to you. That’s something you’re actually willing to admit.

I can’t think of anything to say to that. There’s warmth in my chest, which I know I shouldn’t be feeling—not for Declan, and not while I’m trying to destroy him. I get another notification.

thekeanester123: Do you go to school in NYC? You don’t have a lot of details up in your bio.

It’d be stupid to say I’m not in New York—half of my photos on this account are of random streets, restaurants, skyscrapers. If I say I’m not in New York, Declan will realize I’m lying.

luckyliquid95: Yeah, I do.

thekeanester123: Which school?

I hesitate. I could tell him I’m going to another school, but what if he digs for more details, or he randomly has a friend or cousin or something that goes to that school, and he tries to ask about me, only to realize I don’t actually go there? But if I tell him the truth—that I’m a St. Cat’s student—he might be able to figure out that I’m luckyliquid95.

luckyliquid95: Why do you want to know?

thekeanester123: I’m just curious. I like the way you think. About art, and life, and everything, I guess.

My dad gets up from the sofa with a groan, muttering that he’s getting old, and makes it to the kitchen. I’m not sure how to answer Declan. He could call me out for pretending to be someone I’m not. Maybe he’s even known it’s been me all along, and he’s just playing with me before he fucks me over.

thekeanester123: I know this is weird, but do you think you’d want to exchange numbers?

I stare at the message. Read and reread it a good handful of times.

thekeanester123: Maybe we could text instead?