told me he’d give me extra credit to write random thoughts down. Whenever I got pissed or was really excited about something, I got in the habit of jotting down a couple words or phrases. I wasn’t disciplined enough to keep a journal, but that little exercise helped quiet my mind, I guess. But because I was kind of an asshole, I’d write things to make the poor guy squirm.” I chuckled as I shifted on the bench to face him. “One time, I handed him this napkin I’d used to clean up some spilled milk. I’d written something crude about tasting jizz and waited to see how long it would take for Mr. Jacobs’s ears to turn pink. He dropped that crusty napkin so fast you’d have thought it was coated in anthrax. I laughed until I cried. Literally.”
I chuckled at the memory as I straightened my legs in front of me, scaring a couple pigeons away. Will wasn’t laughing now. In fact, he was staring at me intensely.
“Are you…?”
I took another sip of my now-lukewarm latte and waited for him to continue. He didn’t. He bit his lip in what I was beginning to realize was a sure sign of nerves.
“Am I what?”
He swallowed hard and looked down at the industrious pigeons hopping at his feet. I shooed them with a sweeping hand motion. They fluttered away noisily, leaving him no further distraction. I childishly wanted all of his attention. Although a moment later I wasn’t so sure.
“Are you gay?”
I was aware of his steady gaze and earnest calm. I shifted on the bench restlessly, wondering if I should be honest. Like Tim said, I wasn’t famous. And I was beginning to realize turning off the gay wasn’t so simple after all. What could it hurt to tell my guitar tutor the truth? I opened my mouth and—
“No,” I lied.
But it wasn’t a lie, I told myself. It was a half-truth. Or half-lie. However, it felt bigger than the average lie of omission or white lie. It was the awkward kind that made you instantly wish you could have a do-over.
Will seemed uncomfortable, and now I was too. The temperature may have been hovering around thirty degrees, but my face was warm with shame. I had to divert attention to him until I was back on solid ground.
“Hmm.”
“What does that noise mean?” I plucked at his beanie and tweaked his earlobe to get him to look at me.
He batted my hand away and turned so our knees touched on the bench. “Nothing. I’m sorry. It was a stupid question. I figured you were straight anyway. With a girlfriend.”
“No girlfriend.” I pushed his beanie over his eyes, then cocked my head curiously before I made myself ask, “How about you?”
“Cool it,” he said with a scowl, swatting my hand away as he pushed the beanie out of his eyes. “I’m gay. I thought you knew that. I was betting it would take Terry five minutes or less to out me.”
“Why would Terry care if you’re gay?”
“He doesn’t care exactly, but he’s a jerk. I could never tell if he was insecure or homophobic. I just knew I got a vibe I didn’t like.”
“Which is why you referred him to us. Thanks, asshole.”
“He’s a good guitarist,” he sputtered, turning a funny shade of pink. “I thought he was working out okay.”
“He’s fine. But I don’t want to talk about Terry. Tell me about you.” I tapped my empty cup on my knee and eyed him expectantly. “I take it you’re out and proud.”
“I’m out.” He scrunched his paper bag almost violently into a ball and stood abruptly. He walked a few steps to throw his trash away before turning back with a phony smile. “I’ve got to run. Thanks for the latte. See you next week.”
I jumped up and grabbed his elbow. “Whoa! What’s your hurry?”
“I have class soon. I should go.”
I glanced at my watch and then at him, wordlessly letting him know I was on to him. “Wait up. What did I say?”
His lips turned up on one side of his mouth. It wasn’t a smile because his eyes were definitely not involved in the gesture. No… it was