Coming to Terms ✔️

4: Darts and Smooches

I couldn't sleep that night. I wasn't necessarily trying, either.

It was nearly four in the morning and I was playing video games in the darkness of my room, an alcoholic seltzer next to me. I took a long sip of my drink and returned to shooting the enemy team, mesmerized by the screen and buzzed.

My phone beeped out of nowhere. Upon seeing who made the notification, I scoffed. For what reason would he have for texting me in the middle of the night?

Xavier (3:59AM)
Turn your fucking tv off it's flashing through my window

Oh, he could go fuck himself. I ignored the text all together and kept playing. I didn't get a single notification for the rest of the night. What a relief.

When I finally woke up, I had a few moments to spare before having to jump up and go to work. I relaxed and lazed around, trying to get myself into a better mood so my work day wasn't awful. After a quick video chat with Georgia and me almost shooting Pepsi out my nose from how hard she made me laugh, I was more chipper.

I was outside of my car, nearly had my hand on the door handle, when I heard my name being called. I looked up to see Xavier jogging towards me, and behind him was his friend Andrew leaning against Xavier's truck.

I ignored him, opening the door to my car and getting in. Xavier had made it there and stopped me from closing him out. I wished I had laser vision so I could just get rid of Xavier's hand on the top of the door.

"Please just go away," I begged, looking up.

Xavier had a bruise just under his eye, making his bottom lid swollen a bit. He didn't look patronizing, he looked almost exasperated. I tried to pull the door closed but Xavier didn't relent.

It was quiet for a moment before Xavier finally spoke. "I wanted to talk to you," he insisted, glancing back at his friend before looking back. "I don't care that your gay, bro."

I couldn't help but think that this was all horrifying. I couldn't remember the last time me and Xavier had a conversation, especially one with a half-ass apology in it. What was Xavier planning? This was going to bite me in the end if I just forgave him on the spot. Not to mention, we were not bros.

He continued before I could get a word in, if I had any. "I was just being annoying, seriously. I'm not homophobic, or whatever," Xavier muttered, looking down shamefully and awkwardly. "So I'm sorry for taking it too far. You don't need to say it's okay, we can go back to hating each other. I just needed to get that out there."

"Um," was all I could say.

What could I say? You don't just put ten year long quarrels on hold to make a huge disclaimer like that, only to go back from that point on!

The worst part, however, was how I couldn't take my eyes off of Xavier.

His eyes held a sincerely apologetic gleam, and I kept looking from one to the other, convincing myself I was imagining it. Xavier was leaning towards me, the smell of his cologne trapping my thoughts, and he was close. Messy hair, unshaven face, rippling biceps, white teeth, purple bruise, down turned lips. I was mesmerized. I was panicking but nearly couldn't think of anything at all.

Fuck!

This could not be happening. I managed to go a good portion of my gay life ensuring myself not to swoon over straight men! I'd successfully admired from afar, never catching even the slightest feeling towards someone who I knew wouldn't feel back. So this was totally not okay. I couldn't seriously be looking at Xavier and finding him attractive.

"I— I— um . . . I have to go," I frowned, reaching for the door handle once more to try to pull it shut.

"Wait, uh," Xavier sighed. "I have to ask you something."