Felix Ever After(86)

“I was hurt,” he admits, “but I could never hate you.”

“These past weeks were hell,” I tell him. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” he says.

“So much has changed so fast,” I whisper.

“What’ve I missed?” he asks me.

I hesitate, then say, “You know how I was thinking about my gender identity?”

He opens his eyes. “Yeah.”

“Well, I went to this discussion group at the Center, and I did some more research, and I found this term—I don’t know, it’s just a word, but it feels like it captures so much of who I am in a way that nothing else has.”

“What’s the word?” he asks, and he seems so genuinely curious that it makes my heart ache.

“It’s demiboy.”

“Demiboy,” Ezra repeats, like he’s trying the word out on his tongue. “I like it. It reminds me of demigod or something.”

“I’m not exactly a god.”

“Depends on who you ask, I guess.”

A laugh escapes me, and Ezra grins as we fall back into a comfortable quiet.

Ezra swallows. “I was—you know, pretty ashamed about the way things ended, and I was such an asshole to you that I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me. I kept trying to work up the nerve to apologize, but then I’d see you and Declan together, and I thought you’d moved on.”

I feel a flare of embarrassment at the mention of Declan. “I don’t know why I tried to—you know, be with him in that way,” I say.

“I can’t judge you. I have no idea why I agreed to date Austin.” A shadow crosses his face, and I know he’s thinking of Austin and his gallery, his fucked-up Instagram messages. “God, if I’d fucking known it was him—shit, looking back on it, it’s so obvious. He’d ask me these questions about you, get me to tell him stuff about you, but I thought he was just being curious about my friends.”

“It’s okay. You can’t blame yourself for not knowing. Even Leah didn’t know, and she’s his cousin.”

“I didn’t even like him that much,” he said. “I knew I was in love with you, but I was—I don’t know, I guess a little lonely, so I decided to try being with him. I thought it couldn’t hurt to try.”

“I thought it couldn’t hurt to try with Declan, but I knew that it was never going to work, and—yeah, I like him, and I hope that we can be friends someday . . . But he isn’t you, Ez.”

He smiles a little. “Damn right he isn’t me.”

I roll my eyes with a laugh.

“I love you,” he says below his breath, almost like he’s just talking to himself. “I’ve loved you for a while now.”

I remember, suddenly, what Declan had said—that he realized Ezra was falling for me. This would’ve been in our first year at St. Catherine’s. “How long have you felt this way?” I ask him.

Ezra looks up at me, and I’m surprised by how comfortable I feel, looking right back at him. “Since the day you found the kitten in a box and decided to take it home.”

“When I found Captain?” I say, surprised. “Really?” That was within weeks that we’d met.

“I always liked you. You’re freaking hilarious in this dry, sarcastic way, but you’re really caring, too, in a way that I don’t think a lot of people get to see. I’m lucky that you let me in. That you let me see that.”

“I don’t know when I fell in love with you,” I admit. “I think I must’ve fallen for you slowly. I realized I loved you when I thought I’d lost you.”

“I was afraid I’d lost you, too,” he murmurs. “I’m really sorry, Felix. I shouldn’t have reacted that way. I should’ve respected your feelings. If you didn’t love me, then that was your choice.”

“But I do love you,” I say. “I was just too afraid of—I don’t know, letting myself feel this way. This kind of happiness. It can be scary, right? There’s this fear that I don’t really deserve it, this fear that it might not even last. . . .”

He sits up, resting his forehead against mine. “You deserve to be loved,” he tells me, then kisses me. “You deserve all of my love.” He kisses me again. When I kiss him back, we lie down on the couch, kissing slowly and softly, as if time is at a standstill, and we’ll get to do this for the rest of our lives.

A month can go by pretty quickly. Like, blink and it’s already over, and July has come and gone. It’s a few days into August. Summer program classes are winding down so that we can have a couple of weeks off before the new semester begins in September. I’m almost finished with my portfolio. I have over a dozen self-portraits now, a few that I scrap and some that I continue to work on details for, starting new paintings when the inspiration strikes. I’ve been working on my college applications, too—Brown, of course, but a few other schools also, in case I don’t get in. The thought of not being accepted to Brown doesn’t feel as devastating as it used to. Yeah, I still want to go to Brown and RISD, but no, my life won’t be over if it doesn’t happen. Declan meets my eye from across the classroom sometimes and nods with a twitch of a smile, but he still isn’t talking to me. I accept that. I really fucked up. I know I did. But I also know that everyone makes mistakes. All I can do is try to learn and grow.