Derek looked up at me then, chewing slowly.
I grinned mischievously and leaned in like I was about to share state secrets. He mirrored me, and I stage-whispered, “I was kind of a slut in high school.”
He spluttered into his napkin, laughing, and I grinned wider.
“There was this guy I had a crush on, and I was not subtle. Flirted with him all the time, even in public. One thing led to another, we messed around…” I trailed off. No need to offer the full details.
“Definitely confirmed that guys did it for me. But it wasn’t the same for him, I guess.” I shrugged, letting the moment sit.
“A week or two later, I hooked up with this girl I met at a party. Definitely confirmed I could get it up for both. After that, I kind of hooked up with anyone that asked as long as they were hot.” Another shrug. That wasn’t quite the whole story but… it was enough for now. Derek didn’t need to know that guy had made me cry so hard my face had been puffy for days. Or that my brothers had convinced me the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else—though, it had ended up being a lot of someones before I truly felt over it.
Derek watched me closely, like I was a new puzzle he’d been trying to solve.
“What?” I asked, defensive. “I was sixteen, okay? Do you remember how much your dick ran the show back then?”
Derek snorted. “Fair point,” he paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face as he studied me. “That must have been a lot for you, though,” he said before beginning to eat again.
I did the same but shook my head. “Not really. I never formally came out to anyone, since word travels fast in a small town. My parents were great. The town was decent about it.” I took a bite of my sandwich and once I’d swallowed, I continued, “There are jerks everywhere, but you learn to tune them out.”
Derek gave a small smile and we continued on finishing our meals without saying much of anything else.
Weirdly, the silence felt… good.
Just before we headed to the counter to pay, I noticed some black smudging on Derek’s napkin. Inspecting it closer, I burst out laughing when I realized what it was.
Derek shot me a curious look and I lifted the white sheet with a smug grin. Smeared with ketchup but still legible was a number next to a heart.
Sandra’s number.
Derek groaned, rolling his eyes as I cackled at his expense. He would need to get used to this, at least for a while—especially given how good looking he was with his tanned complexion and smooth skin.
He folded the sheet before putting it back on his plate without saving the digits and I felt… oddly relieved. I told myself it was because while Sandra was a nice girl, and pretty attractive with her bright red hair and pale skin, she could be annoying. Having that energy around the house all the time would just convolute this wacky situation further.
After we paid and headed out, I glanced back at the tablewhere the girls had been. It was empty now, a new group already claiming the spot. I guess they’d taken off while Derek and I were deep in the weeds of my sexuality and high school horror stories. Couldn’t say I blamed them.
We stepped back onto Main, the late afternoon sun casting everything in that golden filter that made even potholes look nostalgic.
I led Derek around town like a tour guide with flair, tossing in all the fun facts he didn’t ask for.
“That’s the library,” I pointed out with a nod, “where my mom worked till she quit when I was little and then seethed every time we stepped foot in there. Something about the new librarian being a ‘bitter little shrew with no sense of order’.” I glanced over at him. “You can imagine how fun it was going there as a kid.”
Derek huffed a laugh, and we kept walking.
“There is a spot down there that connects to the Cypress River where all the high schoolers used to sneak off to drink,” I said, pointing out a bend in the road that led toward the water. “My brothers and I included. I’m still convinced the town pretends they don’t know about it just to keep the tradition alive.”
He listened with that quiet attentiveness of his. Nodding, asking a question or two here and there, but mostly just soaking it all in. And weirdly, it felt kind of nice. Like I was showing him another piece of myself and he was accepting it. Even if it was covered in muddy riverbanks and old teenage rebellion.
By the time the sun dipped lower, casting shadows across the sidewalk, we had covered a majority of the town. There were only a few shops, Bikini Beans included, left to show him, but we agreed he would probably stumble across them at some point on his own. So, with that decided, we made our way back to my truck before heading to the house.
Later that night, I laid in my bed staring at my persistentlyrotating fan and trying to let the hum lull me to sleep. I could hear Derek down the hall reminding me once again this wasn’t justmyhome anymore. It wasn’t bad. Just new.Different.
I sighed, letting my fingers trace the fabric bunched around me absentmindedly.
Coming out was never a one-time experience, despite what popular media wanted to make people believe. Movies and TV shows made it seem like once you said it, it was out there for all to know. Like you only had to come out once in your life. But reality didn’t work that way.
Every new person, every new interaction, shoot, sometimes even the same people, over and over again. Every time you decided to be honest about yourself, you were choosing to come out. And that was the thing some people didn’t understand. Living in a small town just added a layer of complexity to things.
I hadn’t been lying when I said the town had been alright about my sexuality. But, there were unspoken rules you followed as a queer person living in red territory. The expectation of religious damnation if you got just a little too loud and proud. An understanding that the quiet whispers and snide looks were better than alternative forms of hate. That small niggle of doubt that things might not be handled properly if something awful were to happen.
