Page 58 of Darkness Defined

“Yes.” The admission felt like it was being dragged from the depths of my soul. I could have lied, should have lied, but I couldn’t, not to Matt, not after that.

He nodded again. “Right.” He turned on his heel and vanished into his room yet again.

I stood there waiting to see if he would make a repeat appearance like he had before. After a while, though, it became clear that he wouldn’t be coming back. I hung my head in my hands while the room continued to spin around me. Now, whether it was because I was exceptionally drunk, high off of kissing Matt, or because I was liable to pass out at any moment from mortification, was anyone’s guess.

I stumbled over to the kitchen and fixed myself a glass of water. I downed it and two more. As inebriated as I was, all I wanted was to lie down and forget this whole thing had happened. Maybe I’d wake up on the floor having dreamed the whole evening. I recognized the empty hope for what it was. I knew this was real, and I’d pay dearly for it in the morning.

The empty pitcher sat defiantly on the table. Miserable thing had gotten me into more trouble than seemed possible. I walked over and snatched it up along with the empty glasses. I was far too strung out to go to sleep, no matter how much I wanted to. For want of a distraction, I stayed up and cleaned the entire living space, kitchen included. By morning, the place was spotless, and I was exhausted. Even then, I couldn’t bring myself to retire. I wanted to be awake when Matt got up to at least attempt damage control. However, despite spending the entire night thinking about what to do, I was still coming up empty.

A faint shuffling came from his side of the dorm.

Instantly, anxiety laced with dread flooded through my veins. I quickly poured a glass of water, orange juice, and blue sports drink. I wasn’t sure what his preference would be and wanted him to have options.

The shuffling got louder until, at last, Matt’s door finally opened and he staggered out. His hair was a sleep-tangled nest, gray smudges sat beneath tired eyes, and his shoulders slumped forward as if trying to shield him from the light. In short, he looked rough. Somehow, though, he’d had the wherewithal to change into pajamas and stood leaning against the frame in his usual lounge pants and tee. It was a measure of how stressed I was that I didn’t bother to appreciate the view.

He looked up at me bleary-eyed, then saw the glasses and walked over. He downed the water and blue sports drink in quick succession before taking the orange juice over to the couch. A miserable groan rose out of him as he sat down.

I refilled the water and brought it over to sit it on the coffee table. When I sat down, I made sure there was still plenty of distance between us.

He didn’t react except to drink half of the glass and lay his head back. “You look awful,” he said with his eyes closed.

“So do you,” I countered.

“I feel worse. Just how much did I drink?” It sounded like a rhetorical question, so I didn’t respond. He finished the OJ and the extra water before leaning back again.

“What do you remember?” I asked cautiously.

“Shh, not so loud,” he admonished. He sat still for a moment before continuing. “Most of the night is a blur,” he moaned, rubbing his temples.

I let out the breath I’d been holding. He didn’t remember.

He cracked an eye. “Don’t look so relieved. I wasn’t that drunk.”

Cold washed over me as all the blood drained from my face. “Matt, I…”

He held up his hand, much like he had the night before. “It’s okay, Alex.”

“But, Matt…” I tried again.

He opened both eyes and looked at me. There was no confusion or doubt this time. They were perfectly clear. I felt speared in place. “You’re gay, Alex. It’s fine.” I opened my mouth to try once again to offer some desperate defense, but he beat me to it. “You were drunk. I was drunk. Shit happens.” He glanced at the table. “I don’t suppose I could get some more water and something for this?” he asked, rubbing his head again.

I was gone and back again in record time. My mind struggled to accept what he’d said. He obviously remembered the night before and was… okay with everything?

“Please stop staring at me. I can practically hear you freaking out over there. It’s very loud.”

I shifted my position so I wouldn’t be looking directly at him, but it did nothing to quiet my mind.

He let out an exasperated sigh and sat up. “We’re still friends, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I looked over at him. It wasn’t quite what I’d been thinking, but it was close enough. “It won’t be the same.”

“Why not?” He leaned back again, the absolute picture of hungover ease. This was not at all the person I’d expected to see this morning after his reaction last night.

“Because… because…” I floundered.

“Because you kissed me?” It seemed prudent not to point out that he’d technically kissed me too.

I know I didn’t imagine that. I know I didn’t.