I allowed myself to question it now.
I imagined a future where Trent opened the door to a coffee shop and bought me a vanilla latte with two shots of espresso, wondering whether it was in bad taste to ask Gray Garrison to be his best man at our wedding.
My imagination was so terrifying that I wanted to kill the thought before it took root. Tension filled Trent’s face. This conversation was about to go to an uncomfortable place.
Trent pulled me toward him. “Sadie.” He was so close, his breath landed on my lips, smelling like ChapStick and spearmint gum.
I was frozen in thought.
I thought about Gray. About ruining everything we’d built.
I thought about spearmint and how I love to taste it on my tongue.
I thought about that vanilla latte.
I thought about Gray again and how he hated coffee.
I thought about his sweet face and how it would leak hot tears if he found out I cheated on him with his best friend.
I thought about how this moment didn’t have an exit strategy. How it was lose-lose. I would regret it if I kissed Trent, and I might regret it if I didn’t.
“We can’t,” I whispered.
“Oh God,” he said, face red, realizing my conclusion. “I didn’t mean . . . I’m not saying I’m in love with you.”
“Oh! I just thought from—”
“No, oh, no, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” He laughed nervously. “It’s not you. It’s Chris.”
“Chris who?”
Trent unpacked a smile I’d never seen before. “Callahan,” he whispered.
Hot Chris Callahan who worked at the kiteboard shop. Sexy Chris Callahan with a five-o’clock shadow, leather pants, and the motorcycle we rode here on. Kind Chris Callahan who winked at Trent.
“Oh. Wow. Okay, then,” I said. “Well, huh.”
“Do you hate me?”
“Hate you? Of course not. Why would you even think that?” I said indignantly. We didn’t have any gay friends, but I’d never given him any reason to think I’d judge him if he was in love with a guy instead of a girl.
“’Cause . . .”
He looked like a lost boy.
“Look, I don’t care who you love as long as I get to be in your life,” I told him.
He tucked a tangle of hair behind my ear and kissed my forehead. “Sadie May, you are a wonder of wonders.”
“Well . . . you being in love with Chris Callahan is much easier than you being in love with me.”
“What do you think about the others?” he asked.
The others were Gina, Gray, and Max.
“You need to tell Gina,” I said.
He stared up at the sky. “Even if I don’t have my head around this yet?”
“Does Chris know?” I asked pointedly.
Trent nodded shyly, and in a way that told me his feelings weren’t one-sided.
“Then you’ve got to tell Gina something. She deserves to know,” I said.
“You’re right.” He gave a slow, painful exhale. “But give me some time. I wasn’t expecting to have these feelings, and I’m still not sure what I should do with them.”
I pulled him away from the sky and back to my face with an honest question. “What do you want to do, Trent?”
“Understand.”
That made sense to me. These weren’t easy feelings to navigate.
“Okay,” I said. “But if you follow through on those ‘feelings’”—I threw some air quotes around the word—“and don’t tell Gina, I’ll kick your ass. Got it?”
He saluted. “Got it.”
We lay there for a little while.
“You know Gina better than anyone. What will she say?” he asked.
I could only guess, but that didn’t seem wise to do. “Trent, you can’t know how she’ll respond, but that doesn’t mean hiding this is okay. Ya know, maybe she’ll surprise you.”
“Will Max and Gray hate me?” he asked.
“I don’t think hate has a role in this. They’ll be surprised.”
“Were you?” he asked.
I raised my eyebrows. “Uh, remember that time I thought you were going to confess your undying love for me and then it turned out you were gay?”
He laughed. “I’m not gay.”