I'm a Lonely Teenage Lesbian... What about you?

"That's what I heard," Evan says with a face even dumber than before.

Ashley liked me?  Even as Evan confirms it, I'm this strange combination of happy, confused, and really just dumbstruck. I think I sat there for a good two minutes before I said anything else. It wasn't the fact that Ashley liked me, really, but moreso that anyone liked me at all which shocked me. I mean, it helps that she's as hot as she is, though.

"Wow," I say, pushing words out of my mouth to make it clear I'm still present, mentally.

"Don't get too excited, though," Evan makes sure I'm not in some sort of fantasy world. "A lot of girls are afraid to be expressive when it comes to being lesbians openly. Guys are even weirder about looking gay, but I'd tread lightly if you're really interested."

Shit. Evan's right. I'm pretty much the only actually out-of-the-closet lesbian girl that I know, and it's probably because I'm an idiot and not afraid of the consequences. It's an abnormally great feeling to be out of the closet, though. I came out on accident, actually, when I was talking to my dad back when I was in 5th grade. He mentioned my friend Alice (who I was madly in love with, to no avail), and I said something stupid that made it inherently obvious that I really liked Alice, and not in a fashion that friends like each other. In fact, I think my statement was so charged that it made it clear I really only liked girls, anyways.  My mom and dad really never made a crisis of it like parents are apparently supposed to. Obviously, that was only a good thing for me.

Me and Evan talked emptily about things going on at school and we worked on a bit of homework together for a couple hours. I could tell that he was happy to be away from whatever's going on at his house, because he was laughing a lot and smiling more than usual. I think, if nothing else, I've relieved him of a burden for a bit.

"Chris! Evan!" My mom calls, "Dinner's ready!"

When we come down, my dad's already at the table, his big hands working with a knife on buttering a slice of wheat bread.  Well, it's not even butter, as if you could believe it.

"Hey, Christie. Hi, Evan," my dad greets us without averting his focus from the monumental task at hand.

We take our seats at the little white circular table in the kitchen, and my mom serves each of us a helping of spaghetti, this time featuring the ever-popular sidekick, meatballs. 

Evan eats his dinner quickly, and says that he ought to leave. At this point it's about 6 o'clock, so I figure he probably just wants to be home before his parents get concerned. I walk him to the door, not having even finished my own plate yet.

He steps out of the door and looks back at me right as I'm about to close it.

"Can we talk for a second, Chrissy?"

"Sure," I reply, stepping outside.

"I haven't known you for long, so it's easy for you to bail on me this early. A lot of my friends back in Maryland would give up on me the second that it became difficult to be my friend," he shivers a bit, even though it's 65 degrees outside and he's got his favorite blue sweatshirt on. "I would go through trouble with something emotionally, and I might get angry, and they'd become totally uninterested in me."

"You know I'm a better friend than that," I say so that I have time to think of something both comforting and constructive to tell him. "I really do see myself as a good friend of yours, and I know that friendship is about a lot more than being friends when it's convenient. Besides, I'm sure having a lesbian best friend can't be too easy, anyways."

"Yeah, I guess so," he smiles a bit and gives me a hug. "Thanks for understanding."

"It's no big deal," I reassure him. It's the least I can do for him, after all.