Page 90 of Hits Different

“I just don’t want you to think I’m hiding you. Or us”.

“I like it”. Brandon flips open his menu. “You’ve got no idea how many times my parents deployed the goldfish bowl strategy for Friday night dinners”. He shakes his head. “It was their way of proving that we were this perfect little family every time there was a negative story about us. Go out. Be seen”.

“Did you ever tell them how it made you feel?”

“Not after how badly they took The Incident at school”.

I know exactly what incident he’s talking about. We’d been heading out of the school gates when suddenly we were swarmed by reporters. Brandon had fought his way to the schoolbus when one guy grabbed his arm and shoved a newspaper in his face. The front page was a headline exposing his mother’s affair with one of her co-stars.

Brandon’s shell-shocked reaction made the 6 o’clock news.

“I wanted to kill that guy”, I admit, blood pounding in my ears. “I still do”.

“Don’t let me stop you. His name is Richard Crawley”, Brandon takes a swig of his beer. “He’s still writing trash. I guess we’re the gift that keeps giving”. My foot reaches out and strokes his calf. “Damn. Is this doing it for you, Di Rossi?”

“I just like hearing you talk”. Those dimples. “Trauma notwithstanding. I bill by the hour. Fortherapy”, I add, catching the mischievous glint in his eye.

“I guess my inexperience is showing. I’m not a big dater. Until recently, anyway”. Just the look he gives me makes my vision go sideways. “I just realised, I’m getting the infamous Parker Di Rossi dating experience first-hand. I finally get to find out whether that graffiti in the girls bathroom was true”.

“What graffiti?”

“I could elaborate”. He shoots a look to where a family of four are being shown to their seats. “Unfortunately, there are children present”.

“Follow up question. Girls bathroom. What wereyoudoing in there?”

“Studying. With Gina Moretti”.

“You never told me!”

“There were lots of things I never told you”, Brandon says softly, and I shiver. Our drinks arrive. “My mom always says ‘clink’ when someone cheers”.

“I’m well aware. Your mom and I frequently enjoy afternoon tea together”.

He laughs at that. “Now that I’d pay to see”.

We settle into easy small talk, chatting about soccer and trading gossip about life at Summit. There should be a rule, I think, that everyone should be friends first before dating. It makes it so much easier.

And hopefully, when I tell him about MMA, he’ll hear me out just like a friend would.

Still, I can’t help thinking about his little bathroom adventure with Gina Moretti. He’s gay, but he was hooking up with girls. It’s not like I have any right to be jealous. No right at all. And yet. Jealous is what I am.

Brandon is in the middle of an anecdote from college involving a prank on a rival mascot, when I spot a group of women eying us from a neighbouring table. I guess they can’t tell we’re on a date.

I say eyeing ‘us’. I meanBrandon.

It’s not hard to see why. He’s so bright and open. The way he gesticulates when making a point. The way his eyes tell half the story whilst his mouth does most of the work. It reminds me of being in high school, how people would gravitate towards him. I’d teased him for it back then.

Now, it made me feel possessive. He told me he’d never had a boyfriend. But what about girls? I’ve known him hook up with Millie. The chick who was straddling him in the Rosebud. Now Gina Moretti. Maybe he’s not as comfortable with himself as I thought he was.

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” I blurt out.

“Turns out Armadillos are oddly ticklish… sorry, what?”

“You could”.Way to play it cool, Di Rossi.“If you wanted to”.

“I’m not sure if you get how the whole gay thing works. Excuse me”. Brandon flags down a passing waiter, “Do you have a pen and some flipchart paper? I urgently need to draw a diagram for my dinner companion”.

“He’s joking”, I say quickly because nothing would give Brandon greater pleasure than drawing explicit illustrations in a fancy restaurant. I nod towards our neighbours. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid question”.

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