The Lesbiana's Guide to Catholic School(38)

“I’m the designated driver, unfortunately.”

“If you want to drink, you guys can hang out here until you’re sober. Stay the night if you have to. You won’t be the only ones.”

Cesar raises his eyebrows at me like Hunter offered us his parents’ fortune, but I’m nervous. The only time I ever had alcohol was at Bianca’s birthday party last year. I didn’t even drink when I went to a party party freshman year. But it’s hard to say no now, as long as Cesar’s staying the night, too. It’s a special occasion. Of the I said something so stupid to Bo, I need to drink to stop thinking about it variety. Real healthy, I know.

I send my mom a quick text.

Yami: staying the night at Bo’s.

I ignore how the lie makes me feel guilty for more reasons than one. Hunter holds a shot glass of Vodka to my face, and I stick my tongue in it to see how bad it tastes. It makes me gag.

He laughs. “It tastes like shit. That’s why you drink it fast. Here.” He tilts my chin up. It feels like one of those really forced Heterosexual Moments in every movie ever, where a guy makes unnecessary physical contact while teaching a girl something extremely simple.

And with that, I have an idea.

I’ll try out being straight for tonight. Commit to the lie I told Bo, or try to. If I can prove I’m straight, I won’t have to shout about it like an asshole. Secret Agent Yami on a mission.

I let Hunter tilt my head back, and he hands me the shot glass. He plugs my nose. I don’t know if it’s supposed to be romantic or whatever, but it’s fucking weird.

“Okay, now just chug it like that.”

I swallow the guilt down with the alcohol. I don’t think plugging my nose even helped, because whatever he gave me was disgusting. Then he hands me a lemon, and I bite into it. He pours me a full drink in a red cup this time.

“This one will taste good, I promise.” I take a sip, and he’s right. It tastes like vanilla Coke.

“Ooh, teach me now!” Cesar claps his hands and flutters his lashes, all dramatic. It finally reminds Hunter I’m not the only one in the kitchen with him, so I’m grateful. Hunter blushes, then pours Cesar a drink, and we all clink our red cups.

I burp. Hunter burps back at me. How romantic.

I already feel a little lighter. Alcohol makes pretending to be straight a little less intimidating. I take a big swig of my drink before I grab Hunter’s hand and pull him over to the living room, aka dance floor. I’m not a dancer or anything, but in my family, if you don’t have rhythm, you learn real quick or you get clowned on. Some of my tíos are allowed to not know how to dance, if they’re drunk enough. They’d fit right in with this crowd.

Hunter puts his hands on my hips and rests his head on my shoulder, as if we know each other like that. I almost feel bad for dancing with another guy while I have a “boyfriend,” but Jamal isn’t here, and I need to practice being straight with someone. But Hunter isn’t moving on beat with the music, so it’s hard for me to work with him. And a minute in, I’m already bored. He must be catching on that I’m not feeling it, because he shouts into my ear over the music.

“I’ll give you the tour!” He grabs my hand and pulls me away.

The music is loud enough to be bumping pretty much anywhere you go. Some people are dancing inside. Outside they’re chilling and smoking. Hunter keeps looking back at me like he wants my approval, like he’s nervous I won’t like his house or something. I smile awkwardly and keep following.

Before I know it, we’re in Hunter’s room, and the door is closed. Of course the tour would end here. I kick myself for not having seen this coming. He starts going through one of his drawers. My stomach tightens. Is he looking for a condom?

“What are you doing?”

“One second,” he mumbles, and keeps rummaging. He starts pulling something out.

“I’m not going to have sex with you,” I say before he has a chance to embarrass himself. He whirls around, with a deer-in-the-headlights look and a comic book in his hand.

“What? I’m not—I’m a . . .” He looks around as if there were other people in the room who could hear him. “Um, I’m a virgin. . . . I mean, I would want to get to know you first. I was just gonna show you this.”

My chest gets heavy from embarrassment. It’s a comic book. With spies.

“I saw that you like spy stuff, so I thought you’d like it. . . .” He holds it out for me with his eyes fixed on the floor. His face is still burning red.

“Oh . . . sorry. Thanks.” First Bo and now Hunter. I really need to stop assuming people are coming on to me. Maybe I do need to get over myself.

“For what? You can take it if you want.” Hunter’s gaze slowly moves from the floor up to my eyes, and he smiles, then coughs. “The book! I meant the book, not my . . . um . . . I like you, but I’m not ready for sex.”

I snort-laugh and take the comic to keep him from imploding. I put it in my bag and give him a quick hug. Except Hunter doesn’t get the hint that it was supposed to be quick, and he holds on a few seconds too long. I start pulling away, but before I know it, his mouth is on my mouth. I let out a startled yelp and hop backward.

“I’m gay!” I say, then my hand shoots over my mouth. He rubs his head.

“Oh my God, I seriously misread this situation.” He takes a step back.