Chapter 11

“Okay,” Blake said. “I need to sit down, maybe get more food. Not a lot more food, but some pretzels would be good…”

“I’ll come with you,” said Greg.

Blake was starting to regret the second game. His liver had already put up with copious amounts of drinking that weekend. Now he was light-headed and his stomach was complaining. The thought of eating made him simultaneously giddy and nauseated. That bowl of pretzels in the dining room was calling him. He barely paid Greg any mind, until Greg closed the door behind them.

“We didn’t get much of a chance to talk,” Greg said.

“No, not really.” Blake grabbed fistfuls of salty snacks and loaded them onto a plate. He crammed a few chips in his mouth, savoring the tangy taste.

Greg leaned against the table. Lowering his voice, he said, “You heard I came out, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Blake grunted around his mouthful.

“So…did you?”

Blake froze and chewed slowly in confusion. “Huh?”

“Did you come out yet?”