Page 13 of Romance Languages

Amos and Everett started laughing, too, though for a different reason.

“Chase…” Everett messed a hand through Chase’s hair. “Never change, buddy. Never change.”

I feigned a smile, but I couldn’t join in the laughter. Chase was a total science nerd who made periodic table jokes, andhe’dbeen with multiple guys. They all had stories. Awkward stories, sure. But they were stories. They were experiences. It was as if I was stuck waiting outside a club I’d never be cool enough to enter.

“What about you, J?” Amos asked.

But they didn’t know that. So the lie had to continue.

“Me? Well, I don’t have anything as crazy as a periodic table blow job, but…” I scrambled for an anecdote. Something, anything that could be spun. “Actually, I think all of my experiences have been pretty tame by comparison. I can’t think of anything off the top of my head.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Everett said.

“It makes sense. You’re the classiest one of us. You’re the real gentleman. You never kiss and tell,” Amos said, something I was sure he meant as a compliment, but which made my stomach turn all the same.

I didn’t kiss and tell because there was never anything to tell. I hated having this secret among my friends. Like all lies, it had started small and innocuous. They assumed I’d been intimate with guys, and I didn’t correct their assumptions. I didn’t want to be the odd man out. During our first New Year’s Eve together, we’d got drunk on champagne and shared the story of our first time. This was one of those nights when friendships solidified fromwork friendstobonded for life.Even in the moment, I could tell that memories were being made.

I hadn’t wanted to ruin that. I wasn’t someone who made friends easily. If I’d told the truth about being a virgin, it could have been a record scratch stop on the night, a wall shoved between newly bonded friends.

When it came to me, I’d spun a tale about a guy in my English Lit class who I’d bumped into at a party and yadda yadda yadda sex in his twin bed. Even though they bought it, I felt embarrassed, a total fraud who blatantly lied to his friends. I wished I could take it back, but that would make things even weirder. I had wound up erecting a wall myself.

From then on, I kept mum about sexual escapades, preferring to be the gentleman they all thought I was. The French thing helped.

“Did you want to hang out tonight? We can start watching that show about the missing woman who was probably killed by her boyfriend,” Amos said.

“Actually, I have a date.”

“Oh?” Amos asked. “Why didn’t you lead with this?”

“It’s just a first date. I’ve been on lots of those. We’ve been chatting on Milkman. We’re going to meet for a drink.”

“Where? Stone’s Throw? Remix?” Everett asked.

“I’m not telling you. You’d probably show up.”

“Oh Julian. Of course I would.”

“He’s cute. He’s a police officer.”

“That means he has handcuffs!” Everett blurted out.

“There are some police precincts that don’t use handcuffs anymore as cuffs can escalate altercations that don’t need to be escalated.” Who needed the internet when we had Chase?

“God, think of the role-playing,” Amos added, gazing out into the ether. “Can we see a picture?”

I felt myself beaming as I handed over my phone to show off his Milkman profile. I’d been trying to downplay it to myself, but we’d been messaging the past few days. He was funny and very flirty. Maybe finding a guy out there wasn’t as difficult as I was making it out to be.

The three of them huddled around the phone and oohed and aahed as if I were showing off an engagement ring. They dutifully scrolled through his pictures and read his profile. I stared at them, as if I were an Olympic athlete waiting for my scores.

Their reactions were tens across the board.

“He’s cute!” Amos said.

“And judging by the dense proliferation of winking emoji and ellipses in your messaging, there’s a strong probability that he intends to jump your bones,” Chase said, handing back my phone. “I recommend you sharpen up your condom application skills.”

“Thank you, Chase.” As I reached for my phone, a notification popped up. My three friends, nosy as could be, looked at my screen.

“Mr. Shablahblah has posted a new video,” Amos said. “Hmm. Interesting.”

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