We Could Be Dreamers

19

"...and then he kissed me!" I finish dramatically, flopping down on Sam's bed. 

I've been replaying that moment over and over again in my mind. His lips soft and sweet against mine. His hands burning my skin through the fabric of my suit. His curly hair coiled around my fingers. 

He kissed me. 

And fuck—I know that it was just a dare and he was drunk and it really doesn't matter but oh my god, he kissed me. 

Sam rolls onto her stomach, propping her head up with a fist. She looks up at me. "And?" She asks.

"What do you mean, and?" I ask animatedly. "He kissed me!"

"Yeah," she says, features twisting into a smile. "He kissed you. And? How you feeling?"

"I—" the question catches me a bit off guard. "Um. I don't know." 

Jason kissed me three days ago, and I still haven't quite figured anything out. Which I hate. So much. It's Brooke that I'm crushing on. Brooke that I swear I've been in love with since we were little kids. But this—but he—

"Do you like him?" Sam asks, blinking slowly. "Does he like you?"

I scowl. "I don't know," I repeat. "It's all—it's just—it's confusing," I mutter. 

Sam snorts. "You don't need to explain," she says. "I get it. Believe me. What happened after he kissed you?" 

"Nothing," I mutter bitterly. "Nothing happened. He kept—he kept giving me these looks, Sam. But he didn't say a fucking thing. And then the game ended and I haven't seen him since." I drag a hand down my face, frustrated. 

It's supposed to be Brooke. I'm in love with Brooke. I danced with Brooke. 

But it's not fucking Brooke, is it. 

It's Jason, with his stupid fucking perfect jawline and tousled hair and those soft laughing eyes and weirdly attractive hands and all the other little things I didn't quite realize I've noticed until now, his smile and his lips and the lean, lazy slope of his body as he sprawled out on Brooke's bed when we worked on that goddamn project together and—

"Well, do you know if he's into guys?" Sam asks bluntly. 

I look up at her, not quite sure how to answer. I know he's gay, I know he's into guys, and Sam now knows that he kissed me, a guy. "I don't—I, um..." 

Sam laughs. "Well, that's not a no," she says, patting me on the shoulder. "Do you know if you're into guys?"

Well, that one's a bit easier to answer, at least. 

"Yeah," I reply, looking up at Sam. "Yeah, I think so. But also I might like girls? It's so fucking—"

I remember my conversation with Sam before all of this—when I asked how how she knew she was bi, and she explained how confusing it can be sometimes to like more than one gender. I think that's hitting me now—that confusion. Because am I gay? Have I just been distracted by Brooke this whole time but secretly been in love with guys? Or maybe I'm straight and just confused because Jason just happened to be a really good kisser and I'm making everything so complicated. Which is great. 

Sam smiles sympathetically at me. "Good luck figuring it out," she says. "It's... hard." 

"Wonderful," I snort. "Can't wait." 

"Mhm," Sam nods. She rolls into me, shoulder bumping up against mine. "You're gonna have to talk to Jason eventually, you know." 

I groan. "Can I not have to think about that right now?" 

I want to see Jason. I want to see him so bad. But at the same time, the idea of seeing him again is absolutely fucking terrifying. I can feel his absence like a black hole—it's tugging at me, but once I go in, there's no way back out.

I just don't know if I'm ready for that quite yet. 

Sam laughs, and I can feel her laughter where our bodies are touching. "Sure," she replies. "But eventually..." 

"Eventually is eventually," I say, shoving her lightly. "I'll deal with it later." 

And I will. Probably. 

I just hope I don't fuck it all up.