I sit next to him, too ashamed of how I acted again to even apologise.
“I’m sorry about what he said,” Mark says.
“It didn’t upset me. And he has a point. It was nice of him to invite me, given everything.”
Mark’s hands tighten on the steering wheel. “Then why did you pull away?”
Mark was asking a lot, wanting me to tell him why I acted the way I did. It’s impulsive and reactive, most of the time, and it goes against what I actuallywant to do. “I’m fine when it’s Tommy and Chris. But around other people…I have a hard time being normal. I feel like they’ll make fun of me for likingyou and I get defensive.” My voice gets lower the longer my sentence goes on, and it’s hard to follow through and finish it. I haven’t even worded it right. I’m not afraid of being made fun of. It’s a lot more than that.
Mark’s brows pinch together. He glances in the car mirror and indicates for the next turn, parking in a business lot. He turns the key in the ignition, turning off the engine.
“Eddie wouldn’t make fun of you,” Mark says, turning toward me.
“I don’t know him,” I reply, evasive. Except I doknow him. His face. Eddie’s face is the problem.
Mark rubs the back of his neck, looking at me thoughtfully. I can see the gears ticking behind his eyes as he thinks things through.
“Did someone give you a hard time before? About liking a guy?” Mark finally asks tentatively.
The question sparks a plethora of bad memories. Mortification. Humiliation. The worst of the moments—where I’d been sobbing in a bathroom stall at school because my idiot brother told the sub I fancied him and then everyonestarted to say it—echoes in the back of my mind. I got dragged into a meeting with my parents, the principal, and a police officer who questioned me a thousand times to verify that there had been no inappropriate contact between me and the sub. Humiliation was too tame a word to describe what I experienced in that moment. I refused to go to school for months, and while that spared me from the other kids at school, there was nothing to stop my brothers from continuing their teasing. Not while Chris was away.
I grimace and instinctively angle away from Mark. “My brothers were the worst for teasing me about liking anyone,” I say normally, but honestly, the feelings swarming me right now would have me cursing at Mark if he was touching me.
“Chris being the exception?” Mark asks.
“He always looked out for me,” I confirm, relaxing slowly. I sink into my seat, so I’m not angling away from Mark anymore. “And he’d make sure they left me alone. But he’s been taking out climbers since he was twenty. Since I was ten, he’d be gone for months at a time. I wished more than anything that I could go with him.” I bite my lip but make myself continue. “I had a bad experience in school. I actually missed a lot of time because of it, and since then, I’ve just been…I guess anxious is the right word. About my sexuality. I’ve never officially come out to anyone, ever. Not after all that.”
From Mark’s expression, I get the feeling that he has a lot to say. He probably wants to ask more, too, since I’m being vague. But I don’t want to talk about it more than this. I want my past to stay as vague mentions, remote and far away.
“I’ll work on it,” I say, though I cringe at how it sounds. We went on one date; this feels weighty and out of place to declare.
“I’ll keep it in mind, too, not to push you in front of people you’re not comfortable with. And if I don’t notice, please tell me. I don’t want you to be anxious while we’re spending time together.” Mark is all sympathy and understanding. Because of course he is. I can’t believe I worried there would be any other reaction. Even the hints of frustration I’ve seen in Mark before have never been directed at me.
I nod, glad we talked, embarrassed that I’m here trying to excuse my behaviour. I sigh, frustrated. Mark seems so perfect. I’m a mess in comparison. “I wish I could have approached you normally.”
“I don’t,” Mark says.
I cast him a questioning look.
“Because of my parents,” Mark continues, “I was approached by a lot of people. I grew up surrounded by people who smile at you while thinking about how much they hate you. Or people who laugh and joke with you one second, only to rip you apart the moment you’re out of earshot. My parents are the worst of them, and my brother took after them like a duck to water. I can’t even remember how many times I got close with someone I thought was a friend, only for it to turn out their parents had sent them to befriend me to get an in to the family house.” Mark winces. “I learned that anyone approaching me with a smiling face and a good attitude had an ulterior motive.”
Mark releases a deep breath and inclines his head toward me. “I stopped dating people because when I try, I get this creeping doubt that they’re with me because they’re after something, and only using me to get it.” His eyes flick to me. “If you had approached me normally—” Mark snorts, a self-deprecating smile curving his lips. “There is not a chanceI would think the pretty boy flirting with me was anything other than another trap. However, the pretty boy who curses at me, and tells me to fuck a different animal every time we speak? All the while looking at me like he wants to be that animal?”
I go crimson. “Mark.”
Mark grins. “I’m not blind, Kyle.”
I wish he would lower the windows down to let in fresh air. As embarrassed as I am, it’s not the bad kind that makes my stomach twist, and I want to show Mark that I can push through being shy. “Tommy said that. That you like me,” I admit.
Mark’s eyebrows lift. “You needed Tommyto tell you? I haven’t been subtle—or secretive—about my interest or feelings. If this weekend didn’t convince you that I like you, I’m not sure anything can.”
“You like me even though I’ve been awful to you for two years?”
Mark rolls his eyes. “What was awful, Kyle? You tackling me to cop a feel? You spitting out curses while you stare at me as if you’re imagining having your way with me on the court? We both know why wrestling club only lasted one evening.”
“Mark!” I’m embarrassed—but I’m also smiling? I cover my mouth, but the laugh escapes regardless.
“There was also the time—”
