Page 38 of Romeo vs Romeo

“I wanted to,” Everett said.

“Oh, that’s alright, then,” I said with all my sarcasm boiling over. I wished I could have stopped myself. I wished that way too often.

“Roman, you have to believe me,” he began, falling quiet at the irony in his own words.

I swallowed and dared myself to step forward. I succeeded, even if it was only by a fraction of a pace. “Did you think we wouldn’t have sex again?”

“What?” It was a breath rather than a sound of his voice. “No. Of course I didn’t think that.”

“Why did you lie to me, then?” I asked. No. It wasn’t a question. It was a demand, plain and simple.

Everett pursed his lips, but a tremor passed through them anyway. “Because I wanted you too much.”

“Classy,” I spat, hating myself for this destructive streak of cynicism.

Everett shrugged and flapped his hands impotently to his sides. “Rome, I’m a liar. That’s what I am. Maybe I wouldn’t have been if I knew what unconditional love was. With Harold and Lavinia, it was always conditional. And that meant I had to lie through my goddamn teeth.” He stepped back, arms limp, gaze downcast. He shook his head. “I lied to you because it’s my instinct to hide. I hid myself from them, and then I hid myself from you.”

I was silent for a little while. Well, long enough that Everett lifted his gaze questioningly to my face, clearly awaiting a storm that simply didn’t come. Exhaling, I stepped back. “We grow up playing parts we think will help us be accepted.”

Everett’s eyebrows flickered upward, but he seemed to force a calm expression to his face, not daring to show hope.

“All gay people know this. We don’t have happy childhoods; we have careful ones. When everyone else steps into adulthood, we see it and decide it’s time to come out. They become adults, and we only learn how to walk.” My throat closed, and I used my leftover anger to force the words out. “So much of our lives is wasted on peeling off the lies we told ourselves as kids. I’m sorry, Everett.”

“Sorry?” he whispered.

I nodded. “I’m sorry you think you’re a liar. And I’m sorry you think you have to lie to me to be accepted.”

“You’re…not angry?” Everett asked.

“Angry,” I repeated as if saying that word for the first time. I was exhausted from today and from a week of walking on needles, worrying about him. “No. I’m not angry.”

His lower lip quivered, and his eyes glimmered. “I’m sorry, Roman. I should have told you before we had sex. I should have told you right away.” He looked into my eyes as he said that, blinking once and spilling thick streaks of tears down his handsome cheeks. He didn’t shudder or cry more.

My own tears welled in my eyes, and I freed myself of whatever was holding me back. I stepped forward, arms spreading a little and sliding under his arms. I hugged him, resting my head on his shoulder, feeling his chin on the top of my head as he placed his hands on my upper back. “You should have,” I whispered, tears trickling shyly down my face. “But it’s okay. We’re in this together.”

“We are?” he asked, his voice gruff as if he tried to man up after the display of emotion. It made my heart fuller than I could put into words.

“We are,” I said, holding him tighter.

“You forgive me?” he asked.

I pulled back after a moment, reluctant to separate from him but desperate to look into his eyes. “Everett, I don’t even blame you.”

He stood there, staring at me in wonder. Part of me believed that Everett expected more. He expected me to rage and blackmail and fight. He expected me to hurt him before this could be resolved.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” he blurted.

My lips stretched into a smile that probably punched dimples in my cheeks even before I knew it. “I want to be your boyfriend,” I said, fresh tears welling into my eyes.

“Really?” he asked.

I laughed, those same tears rolling down my cheeks. “Really. Really-really.”

The doubts disappeared from him. He took one determined step toward me, his big hands closing around my face, his head leaning down. When he slammed his lips against mine, I was in heaven. The bliss of desire and happiness filled me like some sort of white heat that would obliterate me if it could.

We kissed for a long, greedy moment, letting ourselves taste our salty tears and letting the small, confused sobs break out, interrupting the delight. I didn’t know if I was crying or laughing. I just knew I was happy.

And when he pulled back, he looked into my eyes with a mixture of worry and longing. “We’re in this together.”

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