Being gay is a curse when the homophobia you grew up with was so bad that you're homophobic yourself. Especially when you're into unavailable guys like your roommate, whose girlfriend is everything you're not (though appearances can be deceiving). S...
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It wasn't easy to convince my father that Jackson's religion (or lack thereof) was the only thing I'd lied about. He immediately assumed this American boy had swept me off my feet and robbed me of my innocence (and he would be right—though he was definitely not the first), but I tried my very best to make him believe that Jackson was just Jackson and no more. That we had done nothing but sit a respectful distance away and lovingly stare into each other's eyes or something.
He had no reason not to believe me, though—there was no proof for his suspicions—and when I told him I knew Jackson because of one of my best friends, he finally stopped making accusations and agreed to have him over to get to know him. I breathed out a sigh of relief and thanked my father.
I'd done it!
Ish.
When I said goodbye and locked my phone, Jackson grabbed my free hand and asked for the verdict, so I smiled and told him, "He wants to meet you."
"Okay," he replied, nodding. "That's good."
"Yes, it's great!" I exclaimed, pulling him closer by the hand and grinning up at him. "So if things go well, the only thing we need to do is just... say nothing about us, basically. My parents are fucking mind readers, so when I say nothing, I mean absolutely nothi—"
His smile faded. "I know. You don't have to keep telling me."
"It's just that," I said quickly. "I promise. You can say whatever you want about everything else. As long as it's not kill all Muslims."
"Got it," he sighed, the corners of his mouth curling up a little at my joke. "So should we have a story then? About how we met and stuff?"
"I already told him we know each other because of Harry."
He pulled a disgruntled face and whispered, "Wouldn't that be, like... a really, really bad thing?"
"Why?"
"Because my brother broke up with her to date a dude?"
"Oh, well... they don't have to know about that, either."
He gave me a look.
"Don't worry. I never tell them anything about my friends anyway, so they don't know any better."
"Okay, so we're not talking about us, everything we do together, and literally anything that has to do with it, and we're keeping my brother and my best friend in the closet. Anything else?"
I winced at his annoyed tone. I didn't want to make this any more difficult for him than it already was, but there were just some things my parents couldn't know. There was already a very small chance that they would accept Jackson as my... as the guy I liked, I suppose. We couldn't stack a million other things on top of that. They'd overheat and combust.
One thing at a time.
"I'm sorry," I muttered.
He dragged a hand down his face, but eventually, he sighed and told me softly, "It's not your fault. But seriously, there's nothing else, right?"
