Page 49 of Whiskey Neat

Salem’s face relaxes as he nods. “Yeah. Good to see you, Jackson.”

“You too, Salem.”

We walk on silently for another block. I can tell Salem is processing the interaction, and even though I’m crazy curious, I bite my tongue.

“Thanks for helping out back there,” he says, smiling up at me. “I obviously needed it.”

I nod, squeezing his hand, thankful he hasn’t pulled it away yet. “Not a problem. Did you want to talk about it?”

He huffs a breath, chuckling darkly. “It might ruin your high opinion of me.”

“I doubt it.”

After a pause, he says, “I discovered my sexuality with Jackson.”

Oh. I was not expecting that.

“We were friends, and during the course of hanging out and sleepovers, we experimented.”

“Okay.”

“Once I was sure, I decided I wanted to come out. I had no intention of hiding. I didn’t expect him to come out too. We weren’t dating or anything.” He drags his free hand through his hair. “But I thought he was my friend and that he’d support me.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t?”

Salem scoffs. “Not even close. He distanced himself and basically acted like he never knew me.”

“Damn. That sucks.”

“Yeah. I already had a hard time because I was skinny and wore glasses and wasn’t that cute. I wasn’t popular or interesting or…” His words trail off as he shrugs. “But I trusted Jackson.”

“And he broke that trust.”

“Big time. I was the first person he told that he was gay and vice versa.”

“Is that why you reacted to him having a wife?”

“Kind of. I know sexuality is a spectrum and maybe he’s shifted where he identifies over time. I guess it just kind of hit me that he went on to live this traditional heteronormative life after deserting me to my gay one.”

“I get it.”

“You probably don’t, but thanks for saying that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you ever not looked like a god among men? Have you ever been bullied? Unpopular? Discarded? I bet you came out and challenged anyone to say shit to you.”

Do I tell him I never actually came out? That I just did what I wanted and let everyone else figure it out? Probably not.

“Having a different life experience doesn’t mean I can’t empathize and understand.”

“You’re right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I want you to feel like you can talk to me.”

He glances up, his big eyes filled with sadness, stirring up something feral and possessive in my chest.

“I can go kick his ass if you want?”

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