Page 19 of Home in Nevada

I don’t respond, gripping the wheel tighter, my knuckles white.

She smirks at me from the corner of her eye, clearly shifting gears to her favorite pastime: annoying the hell out of me. “You guys fooled around last night, didn’t you?”

“No,” I snap, my voice louder than I intended. My face heats instantly.

“Oh god, you totally did,” she cackles, leaning back in her seat like she’s just solved a great mystery. “You seem so guilty about that little kiss…”

“No, nothing else happened,” I insist, my voice strained. “Nothing happened.”

But I can’t stop the flash of memory—the way Jamie stopped things before they went further, even though he was the one who started it.

“Did you kiss him, or did you make out with him, Jeff?” Lucy presses, her tone dripping with curiosity.

I keep my eyes locked on the road, saying nothing, my jaw tight. That silence is all the confirmation she needs. Her mouth drops open, her shock practically vibrating in the air between us.

“Jeff, what are you doing?!” she exclaims, sitting upright.

“Nothing happened, Lucy!” I shout, frustration spilling over. “So we made out—big deal!”

“And you’re going to start talking again?!”

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal…”

She rolls her eyes. “Mmm, okay. Well, go ahead and tell Tiffany: ‘Hey, I made out with my best friend back in Nevada. It’s okay because he’s a guy. Oh, by the way, we’re going to start talking on the phone every day, so I hope you’re okay with that. Want to move in together?’”

“Well, yeah, it sounds fucking stupid when you put it like that…”

“So, exactly how are you going to say it?”

I haven’t thought that far ahead. “I’ll figure it out when I get back home.”

Lucy throws her hands up in exasperation. “How is this not a big deal to you?!”

“Lucy, we live in different states. Nothing more is going to happen.”

“Have you thought more about what I said?”

“About what?”

“About accepting your sexuality for what it is, instead of pretending it's something it's not, Jeff…” She glares at me, her expression a mix of exasperation and pity.

I sigh, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, focusing on the road ahead like it holds the answers. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“I’m really not,” she says, her voice sharp but not unkind.

Her words strike something in me, raw and exposed. They echo what Jamie said yesterday—that he’s surprised I’m not gay. I don’t know if it’s irony or cruelty, but Jamie would probably agree with Lucy: I’m not straight.

The thought churns in my chest, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “He has a boyfriend.”

Lucy tilts her head, caught off guard, and then laughs softly. “Okay. So?”

“He has a boyfriend,” I repeat, my voice heavier.

“Oh.” Her tone changes, softening, like the weight of my words finally registers.

“Yeah,” I mutter, my grip tightening again. “He told me yesterday. He’s gay. He has a boyfriend—”

“And then you kissed,” she interrupts, her smug grin unmistakable.

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