I glance at my phone. Nothing from Wyatt or Valeria. I google Valeria Sullivan, party, and gay. Nothing comes up. Yet. But dread has already soured my stomach. I glance at the bathroom door, mentally calculating how long it would take me to get there if I have to puke.
I refresh my search. Still nothing. I check my social media accounts, on the off chance a notification didn’t come through.
Nothing.
I toss my phone onto the coffee table and drop my head into my arms.
“Did you fuck something up?” Noam asks.
“Like you care.”
Noam exchanges a look with Wes. Wes pauses the game. “This game is getting boring anyway.”
I lick my lips. I don’t want to tell them. The moment I say all this shit out loud, it’s real. It’s painfully real.
Oh, and it also involves coming out as bisexual to my brother and his friend.
Baby steps. Not all at once.
“Romy got a meeting with an agent who saw her festival play.”
Noam narrows his eyes. “Isn’t that good?”
I sigh. “Yes. And I should just be happy for her, but it just—I think I stalled my own career. There’s nothing as good as this shoot was on the horizon, and I don’t know where to go from here. And if I don’t figure it out, I’ll have to move back in with Mom and Dad, which is my nightmare right now.”
Noam takes a swig of some canned beer he and Wes have clearly procured illegally. “Well, as far as I can tell, you and Romy are in totally different industries. It’s not even worth the comparison. Besides, aren’t you, like, a huge fan of her work?”
“Yeah.”
“Then go find something else to be sad about.”
I roll my eyes. “Super helpful, Noh.”
“It can be something just as stupid. Like, go be sad that Valeria Sullivan isn’t texting you all the time anymore.”
Wes’s jaw goes slack. “You hang out with Valeria Sullivan? I actually know who that is!”
Yeah, she is—was—fuck if I know—my girlfriend.
But saying that would involve telling Noam that I’m bi.
“I’m already sad about that!” I say.
Noam cracks his knuckles. I wince. I want to hit him again. “What about Wyatt? Anything going on with him you can obsess over?” Noam really thinks I have only two friends, doesn’t he? “Or are you already sad about him too?”
My chest aches. “He’s getting fired and it’s my fault.”
Wes shakes his head. “Wow, sounds pretty fucked. That’s, like, three people who are pissed at you.”
Noam looks around the room. “Wait. It’s not three people. It’s two people. Romy’s not mad, is she?”
If she’s telling me about an agent offer, I guess our fight about Valeria is over. I guess Valeria and I are over too, so there’s nothing for us to even fight about. “No, she’s not.”
“Why aren’t you over with Romy bitching, then? Like right now. Especially if you’re worried about whether or not you can stay in the apartment you two signed a lease for. Look, we resolved your Romy issue. Go talk to her!”
I text her saying I’m coming home early.
But honestly, I don’t want to dump all this on her. I really, really don’t want to. Noam is useless, but at least telling him everything would mean I wouldn’t have to burden Romy.