Page 77 of Home in Nevada

"Brandon was straight," I say, the words coming out more like a question than a statement.

Jamie laughs softly, shaking his head. "No, he wasn’t. You just thought he was. Everyone did. But he wasn’t."

Brandon flashes through my memory—tall, broad shoulders, always with that confident swagger that got him attention wherever he went. His hair was longish, dark blonde, sometimes falling into his piercing blue eyes during practice. He was part of the football team, and yeah, I guess I could admit he was good-looking. Girls definitely thought so. Hell, he was the kind of guy who could make heads turn just by walking into a room.

But I’d never thought he was...

"When?" I ask, my voice sharper than I intend.

"After we graduated," Jamie says with a shrug, still smiling faintly. "You’d already left. He’d been flirting with me for a while—longer than I realized, actually. And one night we were hanging out and... I don’t know. It just happened."

I’m floored, trying to process this. Brandon.Brandon.He was the guy all the girls wanted. He was my teammate. My friend. And now Jamie’s telling me...

"It didn’t mean anything," Jamie says quickly, his tone softening as he sees the look on my face. "It wasn’t good, Jeff. What first times are, anyway? It was just... a thing that happened."

I’m quiet, but my thoughts are anything but. Brandon? The guy I joked with in the locker room, the guy who gave me shit for not running on the field as fast as he could, the guy who always seemed so self-assured... I can’t wrap my head around it.

"Jeff," Jamie says gently, "are youmad?This was such a long time ago."

Yeah, I’m mad.

Not at Jamie—he’s right, it was forever ago—but at the idea of Brandon being the one who got to be with him first. And maybe even a little at myself for leaving, for not being there instead of him.

"I can’t believe you kept this from me," I say finally, my voice quiet.

Jamie’s smile fades, replaced by something sad.

"Sometimes I feel like... like I didn't really know you at all back then," I admit.

"You did," Jamie says, his voice firm but soft. "I just couldn’t let you know everything. I was scared, Jeff. Scared you didn’t like me like that, scared you were just messing around…"

I run my fingers through his hair, studying his face, and slowly the sadness fades from his eyes.

"I know you don’t break promises," I say softly.

"Promises?" Jamie asks.

"To talk to me now... Toreallytalk to me."

Jamie smiles, the warmth in his expression melting some of my frustration.

"I will," he says, his voice steady. "I’ve already been doing it, you know."

"...I know," I reply, pulling him closer.

I kiss him deeply, holding him close, and we stay like that until sleep takes us both.

The morning is a complete mess.

The sheets feel like cardboard, clinging to my legs as I untangle myself and sit up. Jamie’s alarms blare in the background, but he’s slept through all of them. The room’s already a whirlwind of chaos—him scrambling to get ready, me trying to throw my stuff into my backpack without even checking if the clothes are mine or his. I just need everything packed so I don’t miss my flight.

Jamie’s shouting about how he’s going to be late—again—and it’s the only part I find funny. He doesn’t, though, and keeps chucking random clothes at me every time I laugh.

Our goodbye ends up being way quicker than I imagined. While I’m on the phone calling a cab, Jamie practically leaps into my arms, hugging me so tightly I can barely breathe.

“I’m going to miss you so much... I really hate this,” he mumbles into my shoulder, his voice muffled but full of emotion

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m going to miss you too. But I’ll call you every single day, Jamie."

---