Addicted [BoyxBoy]

Don't Be Afraid

I sat down in the quiet library, twiddling my thumbs in anxious anticipation. I was waiting for Emma, who had gotten a hold of me about the interview (I had never gotten back to her), which I honestly didn't want to do. But she had contacted me, so I couldn't say no. Plus, Bobby stayed home another day, so I didn't have anything better to do.

Bobby.

Just thinking about him made me chest hurt, which was sore from crying myself to sleep. He didn't understand how upset I really was about it all, or how scared I really was about things changing.

How am I gonna do this interview? I thought as I fought the urge to cry.

Emma's energetic figure bounced into the library, and she turned to me and smiled. I smiled and waved her over to my table. She looked good, and her smile warmed me up a little, but I was still uneasy.

She took a seat and said, "Well, I'm glad you agreed to do this. This story will bring me to the top of the journalism food chain. It's edgy, it's real, and it's frankly quite cute."

I chuckled a little, her enthusiasm infectious. Already, I was feeling a little better. "Yeah," I said with a smile, "I'm really excited. Never been interviewed before."

"Oh, it's easy," she waved her hand before digging into her bag and taking out her notebook, pen, and pulled up the voice recorder on her phone. She pressed "record" and opened her notebook up to a list of pre-written questions.

"Just say whatever comes to mind," she added with another big, blinding-white smile. I looked at her, suppressing the nervous chuckle that threatened to slip out of my lips. I didn't want to have a blatant sign of my awkwardness forever in the recording.

She cleared her throat and began, "Where and how did you and Bobby meet?"

"Bobby and I met in eighth grade. He was the first friend I made when I moved schools in the middle of the year."

"Awww, that's so cute! You guys were friends for so long!"

"Well. . . that's not necessarily true," I chuckled a little at the thought.

"Oh?" she had stopped writing notes, as my words piqued her interest, "What do you mean by that?"

"Bobby and I have been on and off for a while. He's pissed me off on multiple occasions, and I him. So we've known each other for a long time, but we weren't necessarily friends the whole time."

She went back to writing in the notebook for a few seconds more and then went to the next question: "When do you think something began to change in his mind?"

"I don't really know. I never really know what he's thinking."

The question triggered thoughts that surfaced during the argument that Bobby and I had. His thoughts were a problem for me, as I never knew what to expect or go off of when continuing the relationship.

Emma didn't know that I was thinking, so she continued, "Is there anything under the surface of your guy's relationship that others don't see?"

The question made me immediately think of the word "plenty," but I didn't want to say that.

Instead, I said, "Whatever's under the surface is obviously private to us, so keeping it secret is the best interest for us."

She nodded, no sign of frustration or disappointment visible. She wrote some more before asking, "What do you like most about him?"

That question was hard. There was so much to choose from. I loved Bobby, and that meant all of him. But was there anything I could choose specifically?