The Art of Faking Straight

Chapter Eleven

         "I'm gay," he says staring at me, as if he's waiting for me to say something, but I don't. I'm not sure what to say. What if he's just joking? What if he's just trying to see my reaction? Or what if he means it?

         The possibilities are endless and I can't choose one emotion.

         I stare at him in disbelief.

         Then follows excitement, maybe if he can do it, I can tell him. But wait, what if I'm not? What if he's not? What if..what if..

         I can't decide what to say, too many different things are playing in my mind and I know if I simply blurt them all out I'll come across weirder than even he is capable of handling, so I decide to play it cool, make it seem as if I'm the understanding straight guy who's accepting of love in general whether it be with females, males, lamp-posts, brothers, sisters, dogs.

         Wait no, I'm not a fan of bestiality. Let's keep it clean and stick to males, females, and lamp-posts.

         Shaking my head at my I own foolishness, I smile at him. "You're gay," I say simply. It's not a question, but more like a clarification. He nods.

         "I think you made me gay."

         I made him gay? What the hell, I haven't even known this guy that long and yet somehow I forced him into being gay? But he doesn't even know if I'm gay, hell, I don't even know! Or do I?

         "What are you talking about?" I ask, trying to rid my own brain all of the silly thoughts swirling around in it. My voice is stern, and I can't help but make it evident that if he doesn't explain within a few minutes, he's going to have a broken nose. "Elaborate," I command.

         He laughs lightly, then sits on one of the desks as he repeats himself. "You made me gay."

         At the realization that he intends to stick with this ridiculous idea, I begin to raise my voice. I can't have him going around saying stupid crap like this, I didn't make anyone gay. It's not possible, is it? Surely not, I haven't even did anything to him! He kissed me. He held my hand first.

         But you liked it, didn't you?

         I shake the last thought from my head, visibly, then say a little louder than I originally intend,"You're the one that kissed me!"

         He begins to panic, and that's when I realize that I just shouted that. But can he really blame me? I'm not the one accusing some guy I hardly even know that he made me gay. You can't just make someone gay, that's not how it goes. Doesn't he realize that?

         "Please, for the love of God, do not scream crap like that," he says suddenly irritated. All laughing and easiness is gone from his voice to be replaced by a grim look. "These walls aren't exactly made of steel."

         He then decides to prove his point by standing upright, walking towards the wall, and throwing his fist at it. It doesn't shed into a million pieces, but he leaves a good sized mark.

         "You're going to fix that," I tell him dully.

         He rolls his eyes at me, then sits back down on the desk, leaning back so he is stretched out over three of them. As he raises his hands to put them behind his head, his shirt comes up a little. It's not a lot, but it's enough to catch my attention. He really must be doing this to get a rise out of me, that's got to be it. He flirts with girls, he's slept with girls, he must like girls. He's not gay, I didn't make him gay, that would just be ridiculous, we haven't even done anything! But what if he's bisexual, that's possibly, right? But then why did he say gay and not bisexual..there's a difference. Big difference.