My arm sways limply by my side as I watch him stride away. I understand Casper’s internal struggle. I get the denial, pain, fear, and unease. What’s worse is this is only the beginning. Accepting yourself is the first hurdle. It’s the start of the journey.
Six months ago Casper’s words would have been a huge knock, they would have sent me spiraling.
I’m more self-assured these days, though, and as I watch Casper retreating, all I can think about is how his white tee clings to his back, that his black jeans are tapered at the waist and just tight enough so I can see the curve of his ass. I smile to myself as he turns the corner. This is going to be fun.
There’s only so much avoiding someone you can do in college, especially when you share classes and a football team. Casper hasn’t taken long to realize that small fact. Either that or he thinks his little toddler tantrum has settled the nature of our relationship. Maybe he believes he’s managed to box up his feelings or bind them somehow. He needs to let go.
Freedom is gained through understanding and acceptance.
He sits next to me in art and tentatively nods a hello. I stop myself from smiling and instead opt to mimic his nod. I don’t want to appear desperate for his attention, I also don’t want him thinking his little speech earlier was okay. Wrinkles appear between his eyebrows as a frown forms. He opens his mouth to say something, but I turn away, cutting him off and letting him stew in his own words for a bit.
Getting lost in my drawing is a treasure. I’ve always loved art in every form. The ability to create something, to bring an idea to life through pictures, words, photos, sculptures, it’s a blessing. Personally, I’m thankful every day I not only appreciate art but that my drawing skills aren’t too shabby.
The moment class finishes I make for a quick exit and thunder down the corridor heading outside. I need to take a breath, to decompress. Ninety minutes of my knees bouncing, my palms sweating and my heart trying to claw out of my chest has me craving a beer with a whiskey chaser… or two. I never knew how powerful real feelings could be. Not ever having felt this way about someone else before, means I now have no control. I’m not the driving force behind my actions anymore… maybe this is how it’s supposed to be when it’s genuine when it’s absolute.
I lean against the wall the second I push through the double doors which separated me from the quad. It’s quiet out here, and pretty cold. Exactly what I need.
Closing my eyes, I only have a moment before I hear the unmistakable squeak of the doors swinging open once again. Casper’s the last person I expect to see, but always the first person I think about.
“Hey,” he mutters coming to an abrupt halt, almost surprised at my presence.
“Hey,” I echo staring back at him. He looks uncomfortable, his eyes shoot away from mine to the door, the floor, across the quad and back to meet my stare again. The dark amber draws me in, and I can’t help my gaze flitting down to his plump lips. I curse quietly when I notice what I’m doing. Casper needs to figure out what he wants. I can’t help that I feel this way about him, but acting on it, showing him the depth of my feelings, it’s not the time, and ogling him isn’t going to help either.
“I’m sorry… I… I…” He fumbles over his own tongue. There’s sadness in Casper. It’s in his face, his posture, and my chest burns for him. “I was a dick. I didn’t mean to speak to you that way.”
I shake my head. “Casper, you just have to be honest with yourself.”
“Stop it,” he orders, holding his palm up to me. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m not fucking gay.”
I huff out a sigh as my body sinks down to the floor. “You deny as much as you want. I see the way you look at me, how your eyes linger on my mouth. I didn’t want to say it. Didn’t want to push you, but I see now…” Looking away from his eyes—because it’s too painful—I trail off, and I bite down hard on my lip, the sharp pinch relieves my frustration.
“You see what?”
Humorlessly, I bark out a laugh. “I see how you’re probably always going to deny your feelings—”
“I don’t want this…” Casper interrupts, throwing his hands in the air. “And I decide my feelings,” he finishes with a croak.
Slowly I beat back the pain of staring into his eyes, lifting my head so he can see the truth in mine. “Feelings are supposed to be pure. They’re wild, primitive, raw, and should remain that way. Existing in a natural state, that’s the only way to really love. Casper, that’s the only way to really live.”
He’s quiet. Our eyes are locked, and realization crosses his face. I know what he’s experiencing, it’s a heart-stopping moment. I understand it because I’ve lived it.
“You know you can’t go back, right?” I tell him.
“Go back?” he quizzes.
“To before. To only a moment ago, when you were really in denial when you believed you could change who you truly are. Now your consciousness has recognized your soul. You can’t backtrack, can’t lock up the truth. All you have now is the lie… it’s your choice whether you live in it or not.”
Casper’s body stills as though in shock, but I’m done with this. Pushing myself up, I reach my hand out as though I want to touch him, but
