Not in That Way Ch. 03

I invite him over the day that my parents are driving over to UC Davis to check out the campus with Grace. He says yes immediately and tells me he'll be over in twenty minutes.

That's when I get really nervous. I can feel myself sweating in my clothes and my hands won't stop shaking. All I can do is picture the worst, and then I would have lost probably the best friend that I ever had.

Gabe comes over and knocks on the door three times. I open it, seeing that whole mouthed smile as I open the door.

"What's up Dust?" He says casually as he walks into my house and plops himself on the couch. It's almost comical how quickly he makes himself at home.

"Not much, man" I say as I join him on the couch. I try to play it cool, but I can feel the tension in my tone.

He looks at me with his hands open, "What is it?"

"What do you mean?"

He smiles, "You're freaking out about something,"

"I'm not" I say as I throw a pillow at him. Gabe manages to catch it and set it aside.

"You are! Now what's going on?" He thinks for a second, "Did Grace complain about me again? I swear, I only annoy her because it's fun, but I can stop if it's a problem."

I shake my head, "No it's not Grace." I pause, "But yeah, she does think you're annoying."

He smiles, "Then what is it?" He inches closer to me, getting into my face like he thinks I have this big juicy secret that he wants to hear. "Come on, Dust, just spit it out."

"I'm gay." I say without a second thought.

I see his face turn, going from that playful expression to something a bit more serious.

"Oh" he says.

Gabe moves away, sitting back on the couch. I look over at him with a dumbfounded expression, "What do you mean, oh?"

He shrugs, "I thought it would be something worse like you not wanting to be friends anymore." He looks at me, "I don't care that you're gay, Dust."

He must see the surprised look on my face because he corrects himself, "I mean I do care that you're gay, but it doesn't change anything."

This time, I smile, "I know what you meant, Gabe." He nods, "I guess I'm just surprised you're taking it so well."

He replies, "I mean I kinda heard some rumors around school, but I never really paid attention to them."

"Why not?"

He shrugs, "Because if I wanted to know that badly, I'd ask you." He smiles, "Besides, if you turned out to be gay-" he adds "which is now confirmed as true, I would have wanted you to tell me when you were ready."

I lunge forward and hug him, feeling his body through his clothes. He's so warm and he has that scent that comforts me every time I breathe it in.

"I couldn't think of anything better to hear when I was debating on telling you."

He smiles and I fall victim again to those dimples and those perfectly white teeth. That smile soon turns mischievous as I hear him ask.

"So do you think I'm cute?"

I pause for a second, knowing he's trapped me. I look around, but can't seem to shake his blue eyes that stare into me.

"Yeah" I say, not seeing a reason to lie. "But you'd look better with shorter hair." I say honestly as he has his mouth wide open.

I hit him with another pillow before we're laughing so hard. "What? You asked for my opinion."

The next week, Gabe comes to school with a haircut, wearing an even bigger smile than he usually does. He stands in front of my locker, waiting for my reaction and I desperately try not to shower him with compliments that will only inflate his already large ego.

"Hmm, it looks really good." I say simply as he flashes me a wink.

"I think so too."

***

I don't see Gabe the next day, and if I'm being honest, it took a lot of willpower not to text him that entire time. Sure, there are days we go without talking, but the fact that we're intentionally avoiding each other feels strained.

I barely get through the work day, managing to finish all the tasks I needed without drawing any attention to myself. I make a plan to pick up some food and go over to Gabe's place- hoping that some fish and chips could serve as an olive branch.

Gabe responds indifferently to my offer, which is all I could really ask for at this point. I swing by a hole in the wall pub right as I get off and walk over, not really sure how to approach this.

He answers the door and offers a simple hey before sitting back down on the couch. He looks timid- like he doesn't know how to act around me in order to avoid another spat. I follow behind him and set the food on the counter.

"How's it going?" I ask, testing the waters.

He nods, "Alright. Slow day at work."

I look into the kitchen, seeing that bright pink box from the other night with the ribbon still intact.

"You didn't even touch the cookies."

He scoffs, "I don't even really like them." He turns to me, "I always just get them for you."

I join him on the couch and he surprisingly doesn't recoil when I sit. "Look, Gabe. I'm sorry for acting that way last night."

He exhales, "You shouldn't have to be sorry." He stops, "I don't get a say in who you want to spend your time with." The way he's talking, it's almost like him taking ownership of how he was with Tom or any of my exes that he was cold to.

I face him, "Last night was a fluke" I say. "But I want to be able to make my own mistakes without you trying to save me from every guy who you deem not worthy."

Gabe sighs heavily, "You're right." He thinks back, "You don't but into my dating life nearly as much I do to yours- and that's not fair"

A long time ago, I made a conscious effort to steer clear of any of Gabe's relationships. Sure, it may have been fucked up whenever he openly voiced criticism about any of my guys, but those always came from his role as my best friend. The thing is, the minute I criticize someone he's with, I'm no longer Dustin the best friend, instead I'm Dustin- the guy who's secretly in love with him and wants to see those relationships fail.

I can't really play by the same rules.

"I'm sorry. Dust." He says before I lean in and give him a hug. It feels nice- like we've just peeled back a layer on our friendship- one that allows for more vulnerability.

We never linger on sad moments for too long. One of us always has to break up the tension and try to change the subject. It's almost as if we're afraid of what will happen if we let our emotions out to play.

This time, it's Gabe who gets up and sniffs the bag I brought in. "Brassingtons?" He asks, pulling out the paper bag with newspaper wrapping sticking out.

I nod, "Only the best fish and chips in town."

Gabe undoes the cover of the malt vinegar and dips his piece of fish in there. I hear him crunch down on it, followed by a moan that breaks the tension.

"This is definitely the way we should end all arguments." He says, reaching for the fries.

I shake my head and laugh, thankful that we're able to bounce back so easily. We settle onto his couch and Gabe goes off about this new Netflix show he found yesterday. I tell him to put it on and he spends the next forty-five minutes carefully watching my response. It's almost like he wants me to like it as much as he does, and to no surprise, I do.