Page 13 of Romeo vs Romeo

“You’re right,” I sighed. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Oh.” He looked like someone who wasn’t used to hearing that. “Okay. Well, I’m sorry it freaked you out.”

“Itdidn’t freak me out,” I said. I lifted my glass and sloshed its contents down my throat. It tasted horrible and smelled worse. I needed a moment for the burn to pass before looking at him. “It was…hot.” Why was it so hard to admit this aloud? “But I’m…” I shook my head.

After a short silence, Roman drank his vodka. “I knew you were deep in the closet,” he said. “I just didn’t realize how deep.” He waited for something to happen next, but I didn’t look at him. After a while, he leaned in. “Was this your first time?”

I tilted my head left and right. “Not exactly. Sort of.”

“Ah, a history of freaking out?” Roman seemed amused by that. He unscrewed the top of the bottle again and splashed some vodka in both our glasses. “Look, I don’t know what your deal is, but you’re safe here.”

I snorted. Nobody was safe anywhere. It didn’t matter if my parents weren’t going to find out tonight. They would find out eventually. I would either live in fear of them finding out, or it would actually happen, and I would be left hanging.

“How old are you?” Roman asked.

“Twenty-four,” I said.

He said he was the same age. We shared another moment of silence. My hand was moving over the soft fabric of my shirt, still lying over my leg. I remembered to put it on then. “Never been with a guy for real, huh?”

I shook my head. “Never.”

“Kissed?” Roman asked.

I winced.

“I see.” He sipped his drink this time rather than downing it all. “Look, it’s really simple when you think about it. It’s nobody’s business if you’re gay.”

“I’m not gay,” I said in a surprisingly firm tone.

Roman snorted. “But you’re into dudes. What do you think is the difference?”

And the last illogical veil dropped. I had never admitted it to myself like that. There had been many moments in my life when the attraction had been so vivid and tangible that I couldn’t deny it. I had always told myself that it was just the temptation. At first, I blamed the devil. Later, I blamed God. Then, when I ran out of fictional characters, I blamed myself and saw it as a weakness of my masculinity. But I hadn’t equated myself withthem. We weren’t the same. They were gay, and I was just…into them.

I closed my eyes now and surrendered to the truth of who I was. Damn my soul. “I’m gay,” I whispered. A moment ago, I had expected some great sense of relief to lift me up upon speaking those words. It didn’t. Instead, I only felt alone and defeated. I was defeated by my nature. It was impossible to fix it, to ignore it, to change it.

I was screwed.

Roman leaned in a little closer again. “Dude, it’s not all that bad. I know it feels like you got a shitty hand, but life’s always better after you come out.”

“It doesn’t feel that great,” I said.

“It will,” Roman assured me. “It’s kind of like rebirth. Over time, you realize a lot of who you are is defined by the lies you used to tell yourself and others. And then you start changing.”

I chewed my lower lip for a little while, eyes narrow, and gazed at my drink. My breathing steadied. When I looked at Roman again, he wore an open expression, almost friendly. Had I found a trace of pity in those gray-green eyes, I would havewalked out immediately, but the cool composure was all I saw. “Wh-why are you nice to me?” I asked, my voice rough. He had every reason to want to see me leave. Not only had I threatened him and pushed him around, but I got his hopes up for some action tonight and left him hanging.

“Fuck if I know,” Roman said.

Our gazes met and locked. For one long moment, there was silence, and Roman cracked a smile. We laughed, albeit softly and somewhat awkwardly, and let our gazes linger on one another for a while longer.

Roman licked his lips. “I guess I see myself in you,” he said.

I lifted my eyebrows. “That’s a little suggestive, don’t you think?”

Roman stumbled, then grinned. “Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t exactly hesitate to give it another try, but right now, I’ll make an exception and be totally platonic.” He drummed the surface of the table for a moment, then picked up his glass and lifted it. “To platonic friendships.”

I wondered if there was such a thing, but the moment was too sweet to ruin. I picked up my drink despite every worry that this was just another lie I told myself and let our glasses touch.

After drinking the contents of our glasses, we sighed in unison. Roman found that amusing. With a smile, he said, “You should come to Neon Nights with me. Meet my friends.”

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