Page 26 of On the Edge

“Fuck that.” I wave a hand and step around him. “I’m not your girlfriend. Catch you in class.”

The wallin my bedroom is shaking. One eye cracked open, I watch the lone picture frame reverberate and swing back and forth. Lifting my head off my pillow, I shout at my roommate.

“Nate! It’s too early for this shit, go back to bed!”

“Comehere,” he yells back, and bangs his fist against the wall again. Growling in frustration, I throw my covers off and stalk over to his room. Stepping inside, I slam the door shut behind me and stand with hands on my hips, glowering athim. He’s sitting up in his bed, back against the headboard and laptop balanced on his legs. His brown hair is wild from sleep and he’s shirtless, which, at any other time of day, I’d appreciate.

“What do you want that issoimportant, it can’t wait until a reasonable fucking hour?”

“You like dudes, right?” I stare at him. He clarifies: “Dick.”

“I swear to God, I have never hated you more than I do in this moment.”

He sighs, scrubbing his hands vigorously over his face and groaning.

“All right,all right.I’m having a minor identity crisis and I need the expert opinion of someone on the inside. Someone who won’t fuck around and will just tell me like it is.”

He gestures to me. My eyes narrow nearly to slits.

“And by someone on the inside, you mean the inside of someone’s ass?” I clarify.

“Well.” Nate shrugs.

“I’m going to get coffee. I’ll be right back. Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter, leaving his room and walking downstairs in my boxers. Nobody else is awake, naturally, because it’s way too early and no self-respecting college kid would be awake before six if they had a choice in the matter. I lean against the counter and close my eyes as the coffee percolates. The smell makes me feel marginally better, and I decide to bring Nate a mug, too. Nobody should have to go through an identity crisis without coffee.

“Here you go, jackass,” I mumble, setting down a mug on his nightstand. He glances away from his computer screen.

“Thanks. So, here’s the situation.” He closes his laptop and leans forward, elbows on his knees. “I fucked a dude and now I’m pretty sure I’m gay.”

Sitting down on the end of his bed, I close my eyes and take a sip of way-too-hot coffee. I can’t believe this is my life right now.

“Fucking a dude is a pretty gay thing to do,” I agree. Nate nods, vindicated.

“Three times,” he says.

“This isn’t an identity crisis. Sounds like you’ve got a pretty firm grasp.”

“Listen, okay?” He waits for me to nod before continuing. I wish I had a fucking cigarette. “So, last year I was at a party, and there was this guy there I’d never seen before, and I was feeling some type of way, so I sucked his dick. But I was drinking, right? So, I just wrote it off as alcohol-induced gay insanity.”

“Sounds believable,” I mutter, taking a sip of coffee and wishing I’d put a shot of Baileys in.

“Right?” Nate agrees, not hearing the sarcasm. “But then I went to one of the baseball games and there he was in those tight pants and I just thought, ‘huh.’”

He stops, staring at me and waiting as though he said something profound and is waiting for me to offer advice.

“Yeah, sounds super gay,” I tell him. He makes an aggrieved noise and scrubs a hand over his face again.

“I asked for his number and we had phone sex and more blowjobs and talked all summer. Like, normal stuff, not sexting or anything. But both times we’ve hung out, I literallycould notkeep my hands to myself. So, that’s where I’m at. Now,helpme.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say. You’ve had more gay sex than I have, apparently.”

Nate’s eyes nearly bug out of his head at that.

“What the fuck do you mean I’ve had more gay sex thanyou?” He practically shouts it, apparently on a mission to inform the entire household.

“I’ve never slept with a guy,” I tell him and enjoy the way he nearly goes apoplectic.

“I thought you were bi?” he asks, sounding so offended I can’t help but laugh.

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