Page 45 of Man On

"My Uncle Leyton was a different story," Danny adds with a sarcastic grimace. It feels like he's trying to play it off, but there’s an underlying sadness that is easy to pick out, considering Danny is usually so happy-go-lucky.

"I guess he didn't approve?"

"Not even a little. He went on a whole hellfire and damnation tangent during Sunday dinner and even renounced the Pope. It was a whole thing. Caused kind of a rift in the family, considering he and my mother were really close."

"That's awful, I'm sorry."

"His loss," Danny says with a shrug. Though I get the feeling that there's more to it. I can't help but be curious, but I don't want to press too much.

"But the rest of your family is cool with it?"

"Eh, 'cool with it' might be a stretch. But most of them have taken on a 'don't ask, don't tell' kind of attitude, which is fine for now. It's not like I've ever brought anyone, guy or girl, home, to test them on it.” He snorts. “That'll be the day," he adds, laughing.

"Guy or girl?" The words slip out before I can control them. "Sorry—It's none of my business. I didn't mean to pry."

Danny leans forward and taps my shoulder to get me to look up at him again. "You're not prying, Lane. I'll let you know if anything you ask is too intrusive, and you do the same for me. It's how friends talk to each other. Right?"

I nod and decide to be brave enough to continue the conversation, but I end up choking on my words. "So you've been with both—Er, like both—" I swallow down my embarrassment and run a hand over my flushed face. "Ugh. That's not what I meant to say," I huff out. Danny manages not to laugh while I compose myself. "What I meant was, you're bisexual, then?"

"I like the term pansexual," he says. Before I can ask, he explains. "It basically means that someone's gender doesn't matter to me when I’m attracted to them. Hearts not parts."

"Hearts not parts," I repeat. "That’s cool." I'm not sure that I really understand it, it's so far outside of what I've been taught. But it sounds nice.

"But to answer the question you really wanted to ask—yes, I've been with both men and women."

Oh, Jesus. My face is so hot, I'm surprised the picture frames aren't steaming up like the bathroom during a hot shower. Then I think about Noah standing outside the shower, hand on the curtain, threatening to open it if he doesn't hear me following his instructions.

Stop it, Lane. Stop it! Think about something else. Anything else.

"It intrigues you?" Danny asks, and from the corner of my eye, because I refuse to look right at him, I'm pretty sure he looks in the direction of my lap.

"N-no." As casually as possible, I cross my ankle over the thigh of my other leg to make my discomfort less obvious.

"It's okay to be curious, you know."

Is he closer to me than he was a minute ago?

"I'm not—" I can't even finish the sentence. My breathing picks up, and I can't even begin to hide my agitation. Thankfully, the blood that was starting to fill my pants is now rushing to my head. I feel woozy with anxiety and my face is flaming. My grilled cheese might make a reappearance, though.

"Lane!" Danny barks out my name as I flinch away from him. Has he been trying to get my attention?

"Sorry, I?—"

"It's okay."

"I'm not?—"

"Lane. Stop. It's okay. You don't have to be anything. You don't have to talk about anything. I'd never pressure you, okay?"

My eyes are wide and I realize that I'm half out of my seat, pushing myself away from where Danny was trying to comfort me while I freaked out. My face burns even hotter. He probably thinks I'm a basket case.

Who am I kidding? I am a basket case.

"I think I should go," I mumble. This time, Danny doesn't stop me, but he gets my attention just as I reach the door.

"Can I say one thing? As a friend?"

"What's that?" I ask, my hand hovering over the door handle.

---