Page 12 of Gay for Pray
“Brett? Kevin?” I lob out names, watching his face to see how each one hits.
He grumbles something I don’t quite catch.
“What? What was that?”
His lips twist. He glares up at me as he says, “Anthony. His name’s Anthony.”
I rack my brain. I can’t conjure up the image of the guy, which isn’t a good sign considering there’s only twenty of us in the entire damn choir. Some nagging doubt scratches at the back of my mind, telling me I don’t know anyone else in the choir because I’ve been too busy thinking about one man in particular, a frustrating, horrible religious freak who drives me crazy in all the worst ways.
“…and, man, that voice. It’s incredible,” Nick is saying.
I realize I’ve missed his whole soliloquy about this Anthony guy, but I nod along.
Nick sits up beside me. “What about you? Who are you checking out?”
I shouldn’t be dreading this question. It’s the whole reason we joined the choir in the first place. Besides, this wasmyidea. I hatched the crazy scheme to treat a liturgical choir like a glee club in order to figure out if there are other queer guys at this bleak campus. Now the moment of truth has arrived, and I honestly don’t have an answer for Nick. I should, but when I scan the choir in my mind, only one face stands out clearly. Only one man appears in my thoughts, that scowl of his twisting his mouth into perpetual disapproval.
“I…I don’t really know,” I say.
Nick’s eyebrows shoot up. “You don’t know? You haven’t checked out anyone in the entire choir? Wasn’t that the whole point of this?”
“It’s not that I haven’t checked them out. I’m just… The semester’s been really busy so far. My philosophy class is crazy this year. My professor is giving us all this homework and shit already, and I guess I’ve been too distracted.”
“Too distracted to get laid? You can’t be serious. What the hell else are our college years for?”
Nick shuffles closer to me, leaning in to peer at my face.
“Are you okay, man? Seriously.”
He puts his hand on my forehead like he’s feeling for my temperature, but I swat him away.
“Don’t be an idiot,” I say. “I’m fine. It’s been like two or three weeks. There’s a ton of time left in the semester.”
“This is so sad.”
I hit him with my fiercest glare, but it doesn’t slow him down at all.
“Did that asshole in your philosophy class drug you or something?” Nick says. “This is seriously the most pitiful you’ve ever been.”
“Even more pitiful than…”
I raise an eyebrow, implying some of those desperate times he and I shared last year. Nick flushes, and I almost feel guilty for resorting to such a low blow. His prodding got to me more than I thought it did, I suppose.
I heave a sigh. “No, he didn’t drug me. He didn’t do anything. Though I am stuck doing some stupid group project with him, so I see him almost as much as I see you.”
Nick’s face scrunches up like he bit into a lemon. “Oh no. No wonder you have no game. His rancid vibes are bringing you down with him. There’s no way you can get out of it?”
“Definitely not. The professor insisted that we do this projecttogether, and he and I were the only ones stuck without partners.”
“How? Don’t you have friends in that class?”
I do, but when Professor Demsky was describing the project, I was busy screwing around on my phone. I missed half her directions, and by the time I looked up, everyone had already picked their partner. I was left with the dregs, meaning Theodore. It’s my own fault, but I’m certainly not going to admit that out loud.
“Got unlucky,” I say.
“That’s a little beyond unlucky,” Nick says. “That guy is the worst. He’s the complete opposite of how we’re trying to experience our college years. It might be worth taking the hit on this project just to get away from him.”
“Yeah, I wish, but my scholarships are contingent on my grades.”
