Page 33 of Hits Different

I follow his gaze. “He gets that a lot”.

Will says goodbye, and I roll up my sleeves. “We do have a cleaning service, you know”.

Brandon looks up in surprise. “I thought you’d be out of here by now”.

“And leave you on self-imposed trash duty? Never. Well”, I concede, “Maybe once upon a time. What can I say? I’m growing as a person”.

“I’m honoured to witness it”. Brandon’s phone chimes, and he fishes it out of his pocket. A second later he’s grinning ear to ear.

“I’d ask what’s put a stupid grin on your face, but a text this late can only mean one thing”. I cough, determined not to trip over unfamiliar terrain. “Who’s the lucky boy?”

“It’s Freddie, dumbass”. He turns the screen around. Dyer’s snapped a selfie in-front of some old movie that I don’t recognise. I can just about make out Brandon’s mom. “Not everything’s about sex. It’s kind of an in-joke”.

“Tell me”, I say, my muscles tightening involuntarily. I thought I was the only one who had in-jokes with Brandon.

“It’s not that funny”.

And I guess that’s the end of the conversation. We continue tidying in silence, before I try again. “So, no boyfriend?”

A beat. “No boyfriend”.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

A longer beat. “No. Not really. It’s not something that’s ever been on the table”.

“Come on. You’re a catch. Have you been looking?”

“Can’t say that I have”. My neck suddenly feels flushed, like I’ve been caught reading someone’s diary. “Why, do you wanna set me up?”

I recognise Brandon in Diversion Mode. The truth is, we—okay,I—used to call him the Artful Dodger because he made ducking questions about his personal life into a goddamn art form.

In school, we all thought it was because he was dating multiple girls and didn’t want to get caught out. Now, it makes a bit more sense.“I date. I hook up. Sometimes things happen. I don’t know”, he gives an embarrassed laugh, “Falling in love is easy”.

“So what’s the problem?”

He doesn’t meet my eyes, as the air suddenly becomes thicker. “It doesn’t happen the same way for everyone”.

“Do your teammates know you’re into guys?” I inject some nonchalance into my tone, conscious that I’m stepping into uncharted territory. “Freddie does, obviously”.

“I came out to him in freshman year. Once he told me his cousin was gay, I figured it was safe to be honest with him”.

I nod, ignoring the sensation of my ribs squeezing together. Freddie was Brandon’s safe place. Not me. I don’t know what’s bugging me more. Brandon feeling unsafe period, or that he never felt safe enough to confide in me. “As for my teammates, I honestly don’t know. I think so. It feels safer not to ask”.

There’s that word again. Safe. “This must sound pretty dumb to you”.

“Pretty dumb, no. Pretty lonely, maybe”.

He shrugs, but I can see the words he’s trying not to say written all over his face. We were best friends. What happened to that? “If I break off from this trip down memory lane to clear the beer pong table, are you going to call me the Artful Dodger again?”

“Only under my breath”.

He smiles. “Enough about me. Did you call Simon out about the other day?” He doesn’t need to elaborate. “Parker. Why not?”

“What’s there to say? He thinks I’m a loser”.

“So prove to him that you’re not”.

“It’s not that simple. Believing that I’m a loser is engrained in the Di Rossi DNA”.

---