Summer arrived with the subtlety of a slap in the face: sudden, hot, and impossible to ignore. School ended. Jobs began. And Jesse and I settled into a routine of stolen moments and public pretenses.
We both worked, me at the Millbrook Gazette, the local newspaper, as an intern; Jesse at his uncle's auto shop, learning to change oil and fix transmissions. Our schedules didn't align well, but we made it work. Early mornings at the diner before my shift. Late evenings at the park after his. Weekends at each other's houses, always with the door open, always with the pretense of "just friends" in case parents walked by.
It was exhausting. Being in love was supposed to be joyful, but hiding that love turned it into something anxious and furtive. Every touch had to be calculated. Every word had to be coded. We were living a double life, and I was starting to crack under the weight of it.
"I want to go on a real date," I said one night in July, as we lay in the bed of Jesse's truck, watching the stars. "Like, a date date. Where we dress up and go somewhere nice and don't have to pretend we're just hanging out."
"Where would we go?" Jesse asked. "Millbrook doesn't exactly have a gay-friendly restaurant scene."
"We could go to the city. Fort Wayne. There's that Italian place downtown. We could make a night of it."
Jesse was quiet for a moment. "My parents wouldn't let me stay out that late without knowing where I was."
"So tell them."
"Tell them what? That I'm going to Fort Wayne with my boyfriend? Charlie, they're still adjusting. They love me, they accept me, but they're not ready for me to be... out there. Public."
"So we're just supposed to hide forever?"
"No. Just until... I don't know. Until college, maybe? Until we're not living in their houses?"
"That's a year away."
"I know."
"And what happens if we get caught before then? What happens if someone sees us in Fort Wayne and tells our parents?"
"Then we deal with it," Jesse said, but he didn't sound convinced.
I sat up, frustration boiling over. "I'm tired of dealing with it, Jesse. I'm tired of sneaking around. I'm tired of being your secret."
"You're not my secret."
"Then act like it! Tell your parents we're dating. Tell your friends. Stop flinching every time I touch you in public."
Jesse sat up too, his face hardening. "I don't flinch."
"You do. At the movies last week, when I tried to hold your hand. You pulled away like I was on fire."
"Because my cousin was there! He's a gossip, he would have told."
"So what? So what if he told? Why do we care more about gossip than about being honest?"
"Because I'm scared, okay?" Jesse's voice broke. "I'm scared, Charlie. I'm not as brave as you. I can't just... just be out there, visible, vulnerable. I need time. I need to feel safe."
"And I need to feel loved," I shot back. "Not hidden. Not ashamed of."
"You're not..." Jesse stopped, his hands shaking. "I can't do this right now. I need to go."
"Jesse..."
But he was already climbing out of the truck, already walking away, already leaving me alone under the stars with my anger and my fear and the growing certainty that we wanted different things.
We didn't speak for three days. The longest three days of my life. I threw myself into work at the Gazette, writing articles about corn prices and Little League games and the upcoming county fair. I avoided my house, where my mother asked too many questions. I avoided the GSA chat, where Dakota would see my misery and want to talk about it.
On the fourth day, Jesse showed up at the newspaper office.
"I was wrong," he said, without preamble.
"About what?"
"About everything. About making you wait. About being scared." He took a deep breath. "I told my parents. This morning. I told them we're dating, that I love you, that I want to be open about it."
I stared at him. "And?"
"And my mom cried again, but this time she said she was happy for me. And my dad said 'it's about time' and asked if you were coming over for dinner on Sunday." Jesse smiled, shaky but real. "I was an idiot, Charlie. I thought I was protecting us by hiding, but I was just protecting myself. I'm sorry."
"Jesse..."
"I'll go to Fort Wayne with you. This weekend. We'll get dressed up and eat Italian food and hold hands in public and if anyone has a problem with it, they can deal with me."
I laughed, relief flooding through me. "You'd fight someone for me?"
"I'd fight a horse for you," he said, referencing our origin story. "I'd fight a whole stable."
"That's... really gross imagery, actually."
"Romance is dead." Jesse stepped closer, close enough to touch. "Can you forgive me? For being scared? For making you feel like a secret?"
"There was nothing to forgive. You were being human. We both were." I took his hand, right there in the newspaper office where anyone could see. "But I'm glad you told them. I'm glad we're doing this."
"Together?"
"Always together."