We Could Be Dreamers

9

Well, I try to concentrate on the project. But it's harder than it seems, what with Brooke's bright laughter and the slightly hypnotic quality of Jason's voice and the fact that bibliographies are so fucking boring. 

Even as I double-check all our sources, adding publishing dates and author names and who the hell even cares about any of this, I find my attention drifting over to Brooke and Jason. The longer I spend around them, the less worried I am about Brooke being in love with Jason. They've got that lazy, sort of relaxed and easy sort of friendship. The same kind as me and Sam. Totally platonic. 

Which is nice, because that means I do still have a chance with Brooke. 

But it's also kind of really awkward, since—having learned from experience—third-wheeling two people who are dating is way less awkward than third-wheeling two people who are super close friends. 

I mostly just tune out the conversation, though I chime in occasionally. Part of me wonders if the reason Brooke did so much work by herself that one night is because she wasn't with Jason. The two of them seem to talk pretty much nonstop when they're together, after all. 

At one point, Brooke mentions something about her ex-boyfriend. Something with mutual friends and him spreading rumours way back in freshman year. It's odd. I never heard anything about Brooke having a boyfriend in ninth grade. She dated Blake Chen from sophomore year all the way up to the start of eleventh grade. But no boyfriend in ninth grade. 

Still, Brooke doesn't seem to like her ex. At all. So I peer over the top of my laptop and tell Brooke, "Your ex-boyfriend sounds like a real dick." 

Brooke looks at Jason, and Jason looks at Brooke.

And I feel the dread start to solidify in my stomach. 

"I—um, I'm sorry," I say quickly, trying to backtrack even though I'm not entirely sure what I said that was out of place. "You can ignore me. Just—"

The corner of Jason's mouth quirks up into a small smile. "We're talking about my sonofabitch ex-boyfriend," he says slowly. "Not Brooke's. I'm gay." 

"Oh." I'm relieved that I didn't do anything terribly, irreversibly wrong here. And then the meaning behind his words sinks in, and... "Oh." 

I mean, it made sense. I was kind of wondering, what with the whole hot-actor debate from earlier. But still. I'm surprised. And a bit taken aback. And why the fuck are those damned butterflies fluttering around my stomach again? Doesn't make any sense. 

"Is that a problem?" Brooke asks, and I can see the challenge in her eyes. 

"No!" I reply immediately. "Oh, my god, no. Of course not. My—um, my best friend is bisexual," I say, and oh my god, I sound like every clueless straight person I've ever heard Sam make fun of. "So I. Uh. It's not a problem."

And I could die right now, I think. I could be killed and I'd probably thank whoever did it, because this is not a situation I particularly like being in. 

Jason laughs lightly, and those fluttering butterflies turn into a goddamn tornado. "That's good," he says. 

I'm not really sure what to say at this point. I'm not even sure if there's anything else to say here. 

So I just nod and return my focus to the bibliography and try to figure out why, exactly, that fact that Jason's gay has me melting.