"Hey kiddo!" My dad exclaims, tousling my hair in a way that only parents do.
We're sitting in a small coffee shop, crammed into a booth with red plastic seats that become sticky with the heat.
"Hey dad." I reply awkwardly.
The smile that graces my lips is just as awkward as I brush a few stray curls out of my eyes.
I haven't been away that long. Two weeks. But there's still an invisible wall of awkwardness growing and spreading like weeds between us.
"How has school been?" He tips his mug to his lips, taking a large gulp.
"It's uh— good, yeah." I say, followed by a long and drawn out sigh. And then I continue. "It's stressful as fuck."
After another sip, I notice that dad's mug is close to empty. Almost as drained as me. My mug, however, sits half full.
"Have you met any cute boys?" My dad asks out of the blue, ignoring my last statement all together. I choke on air as my brain scrambles to process what he's just asked.
"What the fuck?" I say almost inaudibly, my eyes watering.
"What?" Is all I manage to say once I regain some composure, this question actually directed toward him.
It's followed by a large gulp of air. The oxygen fills my lungs, cold and rich, and my breathing returns to normal. Or as normal as it can be.
"Well, you know, you've never had a girlfriend so I just thought maybe—"
He leaves the thought hanging there.
I take a sip of my coffee. Then another. Then six or seven more, feeling it rest on my taste buds.
Because each time I look up, his eyes are wide with shimmering blue expectancy.
Shimmering blue expectancy that I have not the foggiest how to fill. My brain runs through a million scenarios, none of which involve coming out to him. Would he even understand it if I did?
"Dad, you know I'm too busy for dating!"
"Yeah, but, you know. You're not denying that you would date a guy." Dad teases.
This situation is spiraling out of control, hence the reason my cheeks flush red. But of course my dad takes it as a sign that yes, I would date guys. Fuck, this went south fast.
"Can we just talk about something else please?"
"Sure. Sure." But he's still chortling.
At this exact moment my phone buzzes, four times. And oddly enough it's texts from Ollie.
Saying some things I never thought I'd see come from him. Never expected. But I'm grateful, oh lord of boarding school am I grateful for this kid.
golden boy: hi.
golden boy: i know you're out with your dad which is probably awkward,, and i'm offering you a once-in-a-lifetime get out free card.
golden boy: if you want it.
golden boy: just say your roommate needs your help with an essay. bc he does. <3
The heart kind of catches me off guard.
But I brush it off as nothing more than a get-your-ass-here-now-it's-not-a-suggestion heart. Which it probably is because I have learned that Ollie is secretly ruthless enough for that.
I look back at my dad, a question resting on his tongue.
"It's my roommate. He needs help with an essay. Is it okay if I go?" It comes out in a rush.
My dad nods in a way that says fine.
I don't know if it's actually fine but I'm taking it anyways, accepting the gift of leaving that he has bestowed upon me.
"Okay, thank you! Maybe we can meet for dinner, I can bring Ollie so you can meet him?"
"Yeah, okay, sure!"
There's a mischievous glint in dad's eyes that I don't have time to place before I'm running down the street.
The dorm building comes into view and I run faster. Which is odd because I am not athletic and my lungs are already burning like a candle. But here we are.
When I open the door to room 303, it's silent.
There's no music playing like usual, no mutters coming from Ollie about how stressful it all is.
Instead, he's holding his head in his hands, a paper strewn on the floor halfway across the room. It's only when I walk closer that I realize his shoulders are shaking.
"Fuck." I whisper, feeling my heart break as he silently sobs.
Somehow silent sobs are worse. Worse because it's like he is trying to hold the pain in, trying not to let any emotion shine through. Unfortunately, his shoulders didn't get the memo.
"Ollie?" I ask, voice shaking as I whisper. "Are you okay?"
"I'm so tired. I'm so so so tired." His shoulders stop shaking for a moment before they resume.
"Can I hug you?" I ask, sitting on the bed beside him.
For a minute we just sit like that in silence, as I await an answer from him.
"Yeah." He removes his head from his hands for a moment to meet my eyes, exhaustion leaking from his. "I'd really like a hug."
So I do.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold on tightly as he begins to shake again.
