Fine

Chapter 9

Nate looks somewhere between reluctant and unsure. He shifts around in the passenger seat as I drive to Fatburger. I'm not entirely sure why he agreed to talk if he both doesn't want to and doesn't know what to say, but I'm betting it's probably because of his conscience. Nate is a really nice guy (for example: he didn't want me to blame myself for kissing him back on Saturday when he was drunk), even if he can almost match Chase's snarkasm levels at times. He probably thinks he owes me an explanation. Which, I mean, I wouldn't mind, but I also don't think he owes it to me.

I know how difficult sexuality matters can be, especially those involving internalized homophobia, so I'm willing to go along with whatever he'd like. If he asks me to forget that Saturday ever happened, I'll never bring it up again (forgetting entirely might be difficult, because the feeling of his lips on mine resurfaces every time I talk to him, look at him, or think about him).

I pull into the parking lot and glance at him, wondering if he wants to talk in the privacy of the car. He gets out though, glancing over and, when I do the same, giving me a small smile over the roof of my car (it's pretty low to the ground, and I'm really tall), before locking it and following him inside.

We both order, before taking a two-person table by the window. He looks a little distracted as he takes a long sip of his coke before finally meeting my eyes. "Levi... I've gotta be honest with you, I don't know how I'm going to explain any of this."

"It's okay, Nate. You don't have to."

"Yes, I do." He takes a breath, another sip of coke, and a bite of his lettuce wrapped burger (because he's healthy, and actually kind of sticking to his in-season diet), then looks at me again. "I... know that what I did- kissing you twice and then saying I'm straight- was kind of a jerk move. That's... it's just not cool, so I'm really, really sorry for that. And I swear, I did not intend to do either of those things. I didn't think before I acted, and as much as I could blame that on the fact that I'd been drinking, I still did it, and I can't imagine that was fun for you. So... I'm just really, really sorry."

I nod a little. "Thank you."

"As far as explanations go..." he sighs, then shakes his head (to clear it, like he usually does). "I don't know. I'm... I'm straight. Because I have to be. So I am. That's just my life. And I'm really, really sorry that you got caught up in my personal crap simply because you were being a really good friend. You shouldn't have had to deal with that, and I just... I'm sorry, Levi."

I give him a gentle smile, even though it hurts to hear him say he's straight (though my internalized homophobia theory is essentially confirmed by what he just said- which sucks to hear even more, because nobody should have to deal with that kind of stuff). "It's okay, Nate. I get it. And I'm here if you ever want to talk, or if I can help in any other way."

He gives me a small smile in return. "Thank you. Though, maybe you shouldn't offer that, seeing how that turned out on Saturday..."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not mad about that, Nate."

"I know, you're shockingly calm and understanding about it, and it's making me feel even worse."

"So I should be a jerk to you instead?"

He grins a little. "Exactly."

I shake my head and take a bite of my burger. "Not happening. You said I'm not allowed to blame myself for this, and now I'm saying the same to you. Your self-blaming ability has been officially vetoed."

He takes a sip of coke without breaking my gaze, though I can tell he's trying not to smile. When he sets the cup back down, he squints at me a moment longer before saying, "Fine."