“Oh, I’m in the same boat,” Bryson says. “None of my friends like them, either. So I bought my own ticket.” Bryson studies his phone, adjusts the volume. “We could go together? If you wanted? I can give you a ride?”
“Really?” I smile. I arranged to borrow Mom’s car, but it would save me from night driving, which makes me super anxious in LA. Besides, no one wants to go to a concert alone. “I’d love that.”
“Great,” he says just before the opening chords of “Left Behind” start to play.
When the light changes to green, Bryson turns right, and we head toward the heart of town. Fairvale, California, is barely what anyone would call a city, and the lifestyle of this place lives up to its nickname of Sleepy Shores. The town is nestled close to the beach. Open any window and you’ll be able to not only feel the sea breeze but smell it, too. We have all the popular franchises that any city has, and we even have a mall. The town is just big enough so that not everyone knows everyone.
In between songs I ask, “Where are we going?”
“Off the Wall.”
Off the Wall is a café I’ve visited before. The last time was when Donny had begged me to accompany him on a double date. Priya was dating her ex-boyfriend then, and so Donny had wanted to get over his crush on her. The date was a disaster because Donny didn’t stop talking about Priya. And of course I wasn’t into the girl his date had brought for me. It was then that I vowed never to go on another straight date again.
Bryson parks the car, and we climb out of the Jeep. We enter the café, which is quaint and filled with various mismatched furniture. There’s a warmth to the randomness of it all. Almost like this place is inviting you to relax and take a breath. Reminding you that you don’t need to be so serious all the time. Bookshelves line the walls and soft music wafts through the space. Above all else is the intoxicating aroma of brewing coffee.
“What are you having?” he asks as we approach the counter.
“Iced mochaccino with lots of whipped cream, please.” He looks at me with a frown and I shrug. “I like sweet things.”
Bryson places our order: one Americano for him, and one iced mochaccino with extra whipped cream for me. Before I can find my wallet, he’s already paid.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says as the barista hands him his change. Bryson puts it in the tip jar and heads to find a place to sit. We end up in a corner booth toward the back of the café. I scan the room for any familiar faces—not because I’m scared, just because I’m curious. My being here with Bryson for a school project is perfectly normal, so I’m not anxious about being seen by others. My being gay isn’t written on my forehead. No one knows that I have asked Bryson Keller out this week.
And no one knows that he has agreed to date me, either.
I stumble as a thought occurs to me: Is this a date?
I sit down and Bryson digs free the drama assignment. He runs a hand through his hair, causing it to stand up slightly in the front, in a way that can only be described as cute. He places the worksheet down on the table, making it clear as day that this is not a date, not that I thought that in the first place—I swear.
“So we have to choose a scene from a Shakespeare adaptation and perform it,” I say.
“Do you have a favorite Shakespeare play?” Bryson asks.
“Not really,” I say. “You?”
“Romeo and Juliet. Not the play, but the movie. The old one, from the nineties.”
“Well, we should choose a scene from that, then.”
“No, we don’t have to do the one I like.”
I laugh. “It’s not that. It’s just that I know Mrs. Henning loves that movie, too. She mentioned it when we first started reading Romeo and Juliet.”
“Oh yeah, nice catch,” Bryson says. “It’ll be smart to perform from the teacher’s favorite movie.” He makes the okay sign with his fingers. Just then the barista brings us our drinks. I take a large sip and savor the sweet chocolaty taste. I take another just for good measure.
“Bryson?” We both pause at Isaac’s voice. Bryson looks over my shoulder and smiles at my crush. Isaac comes to stand at the edge of our booth. I look up and meet his gaze. He offers me a small nod, which I barely manage to return. “What are you doing here?”
“Drama assignment,” Bryson explains.
“Oh, right, I need to start that, too. Having any luck?”
“Working on it,” Bryson says. “You here alone?”
“Natalie’s in the car,” Isaac says. Just then an order is called. “That’s me.”
“I’ll see you, then.”
Isaac saunters off and I try not to watch him leave.
“You have something on your lips.”
“Oh God, did I have it there this whole time?” I ask. Bryson nods with a smile as I roughly wipe my lips. Trust me to embarrass myself in front of the boy I like.
“Weird, Natalie said she hated the coffee at this place when we dated.”
I look up. “Are Isaac and Natalie dating?”
“Yeah,” Bryson says. He’s looking at his phone, trying to hunt down clips of the movie. “It’s pretty recent, though.” He looks up when he feels the weight of my eyes on him. “Wait, do you like him?” Bryson whispers.
I’ve never had anyone ask me that question before. And it feels strange to have it be Bryson, but strange doesn’t always mean bad. I simply nod.
“Huh, so that’s your type?” Bryson’s brow is furrowed, and his eyes are looking anywhere but at me.
“I don’t think I have a set type,” I say. “I just liked him.”
“Past tense?” Bryson quirks an eyebrow. It’s annoyingly cute.
“It’s not like I ever stood a chance with him.” I know that it was impossible for me to like Isaac, but his dating someone stings nonetheless. The fantasy of our future dissolves like a burning photograph. “That’s the problem with liking straight boys. The story always ends the same.”
I take another long sip from my drink. Bryson stares at me.
“What?” I wipe my lips. “Do I have something on my face again?”
“I’m just curious about something.”
“What is it?”
“Why do you assume that everyone you like is straight?”
I shrug. “I mean, I don’t always know. But Isaac probably is. He’s dating Natalie now, so it doesn’t really matter.”