Above Water ✔️

7 - change and what it's worth

"So you're gay?"

My whole body stiffened as I rifled through my drawers. It was just after Dallas and I had swam together. We had laid out in the sun, not speaking, just reading our own respective literatures. I had finished the bottle of champagne and was feeling like I was walking on clouds. When I'd had enough of the beating sun, I declared I was going up to change.

Dallas decided to join me.

I replied without turning around. "Is that a problem?"

"No, no, of course not," he said and I sighed in relief. The very last thing I needed was to find out that the man I was forced to share a room with was disgusted by me. "I just didn't expect it is all."

I found some shorts and boxers, my usual garb, and grabbed my bath towel. I was going to walk out of the room when an unexpected hand grabbed my arm. My skin immediately littered with goosebumps as I turned to face him.

Those feverishly blue eyes bored into mine. "I don't want you to think it matters," he said. I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't even think with him looking at me like that. "We're cool?"

I just nodded. I didn't trust myself to speak in fear of my voice being gone. He let go of my arm and I walked straight out, locking myself in the bathroom so quick. I took a deep breath.

Don't overthink it. Do not. Overthinking it will make you crazy. Too late.

One of my many toxic traits was thinking that every man had the hots for me. I wouldn't verbalize it or even manifest it, but in my head I would take an innocent gesture–such as grabbing my arm and staring into my eyes, insisting you're a gay ally–as plain evidence that I bagged another straight man. It was stupid, reckless, and ultimately self-destructive in the long run. I couldn't help it.

He was gone when I got back into the room. That was probably for the best.

I brought my journal downstairs with me to fix something to eat. From the sound of it, the majority of my housemates were back. Grace's son was whining about not wanting to take a nap. Ashton, Frasier, and Chris were down in the kitchen.

"Bro, we're thinking of going bar hopping later," Chris said to me when I walked in with my head down. "You gotta come. It'll be like the old days when we had our fakes."

"I'm good," I said.

"Come on," he groaned. "You can't stay in the house the entire summer. We're in Florida, man. Just come out with us, have some drinks, and if you want to leave, I'll buy you an Uber."

I didn't really want to. Especially since I was still coming down from the champagne that I'd sucked down. I guessed if I played my cards right, I could squeeze in a nap before going. It wouldn't hurt going out every once in a while, I supposed.

My mind wasn't made up, though. "I don't know."

Dallas walked in with wet hair and clean clothes. I didn't look at him, much like I didn't spare Frasier one glance since walking in. I turned my back and started putting together a sandwich.

"Dallas, you wanna go bar-hopping tonight?"

With my back turned, I couldn't see anybody's reactions, but I was surprised when I heard him ask, "Is Thomas going?" My back straightened and I squeezed a little too hard on the mayo bottle.

"I'm trying to convince him," Chris grumbled.

"Who's Thomas?" Ashton asked obliviously.

"Meek," Frasier laughed. I wish he wouldn't say my name.