Page 71 of Zero Confusion

It was an interesting topic, and Zach tried to pay attention as they went over the syllabus, but his mind kept slipping. He’d expected someone from his family to have reached out by now, if only to tell him he was officially disowned or to yell at him. Something. He might not have picked up if they called, but he wished they would. The silence was worse, as if they’d already given up on him, as if he wasn’t worth the energy it took to dial his number and tell him he was a disappointment.

Would he go the rest of his life without ever hearing his parents’ voices? And his brothers… He’d harbored some kind of secret hope they might accept him. Silly, he knew. They were each a product of their environment, and he couldn’t blame them. Not really. Besides, as long as he didn’t reach out, he could continue clinging to the idea that they still loved him, somewhere deep inside.

It was possible. Unlikely, but possible.

A loud clap snapped Zach out of his thoughts. Joel sat on top of his desk in the empty classroom, swinging his legs and grinning.

“Finally, something worked. I was this close to getting a bullhorn.”

“How long...” Zach drifted off. Losing track of time was a little disconcerting. He hoped it wouldn’t become a regular thing, or he would definitely get dragged to the school’s mental health services. Which might not be the worst idea. More than half the time, he’d felt as though he were watching himself from afar, suspended in a floating, timeless state of being.

“Mmm, I wanna mess with you and say it’s been six hours, but I don’t want you to freak out and snap. It’s only been a couple of minutes since class ended.” Joel hopped off the desk. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Are we going somewhere?”

“My man, you clearly need a drink. Or five. Maybe you’ll finally spill about what the hell happened back in the old country.”

Zach snorted. “I don’t think the forty-first state qualifies as the old country.”

Joel waved him off and led them out, heading in the direction of their favorite college bar. Zach considered protesting, but going home to the vast void of his apartment didn’t sound much better than drinking at two in the afternoon on a Monday.

“Tell me everything,” Joel demanded as soon as they settled into a booth, cold bottles of German beer with a name Zach couldn’t begin to pronounce in their hands.

“Do you wanna hear about how I came out to my mom during the town barbecue and how, to no one’s surprise, the woman who named her children Zachariah, Jeremiah, and Abraham wasn’t cool with having a gay son?”

Joel winced mid-sip.

“Or do you wanna hear about how I had the most intense, life-ruiningly amazing sex of my life with the man I’ve been in love with since forever, even though I absolutely knew that I had to leave him behind before he fucked up his whole future for me?”

Joel’s wince turned into a gape. “Ah, shit.” He scrambled for a napkin to wipe away the beer that missed his mouth entirely. “Damn, dude. That was quite the trip, huh?”

Zach nodded and brought the bottle to his lips. The lager was too hoppy for his taste, but Joel was buying, and Zach wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He took a big swig, hoping to drain it quickly and move on to something more palatable.

“I thought you’d fess up to another hot-as-fuck kiss or something. Shit. And, whoa, Zachariah? I had no idea.”

“Forget I said anything.” Zach pointed a finger toward his friend. “It’s Zach to anyone who wasn’t directly involved in my birth.”

Joel giggled and pumped his eyebrows. He’d never let this go.

Over the next hour, they sampled more European beers with complicated names, and Zach filled Joel in on most of what went down, keeping certain details to himself. Stepping back to look at the big picture, it was hard to believe the entire saga—from Miles’s arrival to sitting across the table and baring his heart to his club-hopping buddy—had taken less than a month.

The longest month of Zach’s life. The happiest month. The saddest month.

The most important month.

“Let me get this straight.” Joel flashed a smile at the server who’d dropped off two fresh bottles, then narrowed his eyes at Zach. “You think Miles actually wanted something real? Like, not experimenting, figuring himself out, whatever?”

“I don’t know,” Zach admitted, swirling his thumbs around the condensation on the bottle. “I don’t think he was experimenting. That’s not who Miles is. And I think—” He pressed his lips together to keep the emotions at bay. “I think he was about to say something when I interrupted him. Something serious.”

“When you ambushed him with sex, you mean.”

“Fuck off,” Zach muttered. Yeah, he’d played a little dirty. He had to. If Miles had said whatever was making his eyes twinkle and glitter that night, Zach wouldn’t have been able to walk away. Not ever.

So he did what had to be done.

Joel snorted and lifted his bottle in a mock toast. “Using sex as a weapon is a time-honored tradition.”

Zach huffed out a laugh, but it died quickly. Joel took a few long pulls, the teasing smile slipping from his face as he studied Zach more carefully, trying to see beyond the facade.