“I wish I was braver,” I said.
“There’s a time and a place?” It was a question, the way he phrased it, and I didn’t have an answer.
“I wonder if my parents know you’re gay.”
No answer came to that either.
“Devon has a sense. He must. Or maybe he just thinks I love you as a friend.”
We were hardly ever alone in my house or at the pool. That walk was bliss, but also torture, because I wanted to take him behind the trees and show him how I really loved him as they sang romantic melodies or hummed some sort of thumping disco porn music beat. “I guess we should get back. There’ll be dishes to dry,” I said as the truck became visible again and we unlaced our fingers.
He risked a quick peck, on my cheek. “I hate to, but okay.”