Social Skills (19 page)

“What
about just at school? Ever thought of that? Or do you think someone there might
tell your parents?”

His
lips twisted in a bitter smirk. “If anyone at school cared enough to do that, I’d
almost be flattered.”

“Okay,
so, that’s something to think about. You could join the QSU—you’d meet
lots of people there.”

“I…I
don’t know.” His skin began to prickle with his usual anxiety. “I don’t think I
could…”

She leaned
back as she nodded. “I understand. It’s your choice to make. I just feel like
the bigger the change, the easier it is to get past a low point in life. It’s
worked for me in the past.”

“Really?
Y-you’ve had low points?”

She
rolled her eyes with a droll smile. “Nobody’s life is perfect. I know it’ll be
hard for you to believe, but back in high school, I was a bit of a nerd.”

It
was
a little hard to imagine. Rebecca definitely wasn’t the blond cheerleader
type, but nothing in the confident, composed way she held herself spoke of
being a
nerd.

“The
thing is, I had a crush on this guy…and I went through this phase where I just
really wanted to be popular, so he’d like me. I wore stupid clothes and put on
tons of make-up…but it just wasn’t me, you know?”

He
tried to keep his incredulous brows from shooting up too high.

“Anyways,
the guy was a jerk, I was heartbroken…and by my senior year, I figured, fuck
it, I’m just going to be myself. So yeah, I got called a dirty hippie a few
times, but I also made great friends—Chrissy went to my high school, you
know—and since then, things seem to be working out.”

“Yeah,
you have Tate,” he added, quashing the bit of jealousy that rode in with the
statement. “Things are good with him?”

She
blushed, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. “Well, he’s no Rico
Suave, but he’s a good guy, and he treats me well. And I’m happy.”

Connor’s
eyes watered again, but he kept any tears from slipping out.

She
noticed anyway. “Oh, Connor, I’m being stupid. Let’s talk about something else.”

He swallowed
and nodded slowly. “Um, so…what does that group do? The one you’re talking
about?”

Rebecca
perked up. “Oh, all kinds of different stuff. They organize a lot of social
gatherings.”

He frowned.

“But
other times they get together and discuss things related to gay life. Sometimes
they have guest speakers come and give lectures.” Rebecca paused, tapping her
chin as she regarded him with a thoughtful expression. “Hey, you love lectures.
It could be a perfect fit! Bet you could even write an essay on what you
learned. They’d like that.”

She
grinned widely, and he laughed—for the first time in nearly two weeks. It
gave him an odd sensation, tickling his throat as it escaped.

Rebecca
laughed, too, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Well, whatever you decide,
I hope you know I’m here for you.”

He
smiled his most genuine smile in days. “I do now.”

Chapter Seventeen

T-shirt
or button-down? Blue or black?

Connor
cast all rejected options to the floor of his dorm room, trying not to think
about how Jared used to scoop up his clothing—after ripping it off,
usually—and place it in the hamper. Jared wasn’t one to abide mess for
very long.

He
pinched himself to keep his mind on track and settled on jeans and a blue
button-down. His fingers were already trembling, though, and he had a hard time
guiding the little white buttons into their holes. He’d also started to sweat, causing
bits of hair to stick to his forehead. It was not a good look.

One
glance in the mirror and he felt close to vomiting.

I
can’t…I can’t do it.

The
idea of failure was familiar, and he almost dove into it, hot shame guiding the
way. What a stupid, stupid thing for him to even consider. Rebecca was wrong. Going
out into the world would only prove what a misfit he truly was—
being
out
would probably help even less. Jared didn’t want him, and no one else would.

He
tore off the shirt and added it to the pile on the floor, half-aware he was
letting his mind cycle through the kinds of thoughts that would only lead to
more crying and more misery. But it was hard to stop once he got going.

Jared
doesn’t want you
, he told his
reflection
. He was the best thing in your life and now…

His
heart jumped at Rebecca’s knock, even though it sounded nothing like Jared’s. He
just wasn’t used to having any other visitors.

“Hey,
Connor, ready to paint the town red?” she sang out from the hallway.

With
a quick swipe to dry his damp forehead, he pulled on a grey t-shirt and
hurriedly kicked the discarded clothes into the closet. He took his time
answering the door, though, the guilt at having to let her down slowing his
movements.

Rebecca
stood in the hallway with a hand on her hip and a bag on her shoulder, her
bright smile slipping once she saw his face. “I’m guessing from that look”—she
bent over to meet his downcast eyes—“that it’s a no-go.”

“I’m
s-sorry,” he stuttered, his cheeks burning. “I’m sorry I dragged you all the
way out here. I wanted to be ready…but I just…I can’t.”

“Connor,
it’s all right.” She squeezed his shoulder. “No pressure, remember? There’ll be
other chances if you change your mind.”

He
shifted uneasily, staring down at her well-worn sandals.

“Listen,
why don’t you grab your books and come back to Brown with me? A.J. and Chrissy
are watching some old film…or we could just study in the lounge.”

He shook
his head, his mind still a mess of self-deprecating thoughts. “N-not tonight. Some
other time, okay?”

She pushed
past and entered his room. “Good thing I brought my stuff, then,” she
announced, setting herself up at his desk.

He
blinked as she unzipped her bag and pulled out a hefty book. “Rebecca, I…”

“What,
you’ve already done all your schoolwork?”

“N-no,
I have stuff to do, it’s just that—”

“You
don’t want my company?”

He
sighed, sinking down onto his bed. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, really.
I may be a little…depressed, or whatever, but I don’t need a babysitter. I
mean, it’s not like I’d ever do anything…stupid.” He quirked his lips up in a
half-smile, to at least look like he could handle joking about the situation.
“I’m much too cowardly for that.”

“Mhm.”
Rebecca raised a brow. “Why don’t you take a minute and think about how that is
not the most reassuring response you could have given.”

Now
his face flamed even hotter, and he clutched the edge of his mattress for
stability until his temperature returned to normal.

“You
need any of these?” she asked, gesturing to the books stacked on his desk.

“Uh…no,
I guess not.” He shook the cramps from his fingers. “Just hand me my laptop,
please.”

She
did, then grabbed a pencil and began scribbling notes in the margins of her
book. Connor wasted a few more minutes before tucking into an outline on an
upcoming paper. By the third Roman numeral, though, he noticed the rustle of
Rebecca’s pages had come to a stop.

“So,
can I ask what made you change your mind about tonight?” She peeked over her
book at him.

Did
she
always
have to be so nosey? And
what exactly did she expect to hear—a confession about how pathetic he
was?

“I…I
couldn’t think of what to wear.”

She
choked on a laugh. “Connor, what you’re wearing is fine.”

“Yeah,
but…”

“I
mean, there’s no gay bouncer there, waiting to turn you away for not meeting
style requirements.” She broke into a fit of giggles. “But if there was, lord
knows I’d never get through the door.”

Rolling
his eyes, he stifled his own laugh so as not to appear too insulting—not
that Rebecca seemed to care much about what people thought of her. If there was
anything he hoped to pick up from knowing her, it was that. Too bad it was much
easier said than done.

“All
right.” She creased her page open again. “Now that we’ve covered the dress code,
if you ever reconsider, you’ll have that part down.” She opened a drawer at his
desk and propped her feet up on it. “Back to work. Though I say we take a study
break in a few and go for a smoothie.”

Connor
nodded and resumed typing, until one Roman numeral later, when Rebecca sneezed.
Her long arm stretched out in front of him to grab a tissue from the box on his
nightstand.

“Allergies.”
She shrugged as he glanced up at her. “I swear, I’m not contagious.”

But
Connor remained focused on the tissue box, suddenly immersed in memories of
Jared’s hand reaching out to that very same box—after they’d spent
themselves against each other’s bodies. Jared’s hands, slowly and gently
cleaning him off, making a sort of ritual out of it that only had him dying to
do it all over again…

And
Jesus
Christ,
he needed to get a grip. Now even tissues reminded him of Jared.

He
leapt up, startling Rebecca into banging her knee on his desk. “Okay.”

“Okay?
Okay what?”

“Okay,
let’s go.”

“For
a smoothie?”

“No…to…to
the thing.”

“Really?”
She rubbed her knee. “Are you sure?”

Connor
stalked over to the closet and yanked out a jacket. “No, but I’m never sure of
anything. Let’s just go before I change my mind.”

***

A
sea of legs had to part around Rebecca as she led him down the cobblestone
sidewalk. He stuck close to her side, overwhelmed by the mass of
bodies—there was a good reason he’d never been to The Corner at night.
Any locale known for being a popular college hangout was a place best avoided.
The restaurants and bars were spilling their clientele—and their
noise—into the streets, and the large Tex-Mex place they approached was
no exception. Through the windowed walls of the building, he could see the
throng of energetic people inside, and he abruptly drew to a halt.

The
first few guys he glimpsed were wearing skin-tight pants and obviously had on
eyeliner, if not mascara. Two of them had tattoos, and one had a series of
piercings down his ear and along an eyebrow. As Connor stood there gaping, the
tattooed ones moved in close and groped each other into a quick kiss.

Rebecca
linked her arm with his. “Ready?”

He
pulled back, almost cowering against her body. “Wait, wait,” he begged, his
breaths growing shallow as he stared down at his attire. There was no way he
was going to fit in with this crowd. “P-please don’t be mad, but I don’t think…I
don’t think I can do this.”

“Why
would I be mad?” She pursed her lips. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t
want to.”

“But
I’ve wasted your entire night…” he began, trailing off when a guy and girl, holding
hands and exchanging loving glances, walked past to enter the restaurant.

Confused,
he looked to Rebecca for an explanation, and she rolled her eyes. “They don’t
rent the place out for social gatherings, they just reserve tables. I’m sure
there are other people in there as well. Karaoke night is popular here.”

“Oh.
Oh, right. That makes sense.”

“So,
you know, we could just go in and take a peek around. Then if you still want to
go, we can walk out and no one would know a thing.”

“Oh,”
he said again. He took a few steps forward without thinking, and suddenly the
door was being opened for him and he was walking inside.

Dimmed
lights and off-key music set the mood for all the lively patrons. Connor
scanned the room and was relieved to find his first impression had been wrong. Not
all the guys had tattoos and piercings or wore skin-tight pants; most were
actually dressed normally for UVA’s preppy atmosphere. And there were girls
there, too—some looking like they were ready for a night on the town in
dresses and heels, others in pants and t-shirts. Two with very short hair
were singing
Summer Nights
in the background with little care for
pitch, but the audience still hooted and hollered their approval.

“How
are you doing?” Rebecca whispered in his ear. She pointed to a couple of chairs
up at the bar, and he quickly took a seat. He’d blend in better there than he
would just standing around and staring.

“Um…okay
so far, I guess.”

She ordered
him a coke and herself an ice-tea when the bartender breezed by. “We can get
some chips and guac, too, if you like. They make it from fresh avocadoes at
this place.”

He took
a long drink of his soda. “No thanks. I’m…I’m way too nervous to eat. I think
maybe I shoulda waited for those other types of meetings you were talking about…the
ones with the lectures.”

Rebecca
smirked. “Think of it this way—if you get to know a few people tonight,
you’ll already have some friends when it comes time for those.”

Before
he could respond, a guy in a salmon-colored polo shirt, khakis, and
flip-flops—the unofficial UVA uniform—approached Rebecca and pulled
her into a hug.

“Becca,
I haven’t seen you in forever!” They exchanged quick pecks on the cheek.

“Hey,
Adam.” Rebecca shot a glance at Connor and he gave her a slight nod. “I want
you to meet someone. This is my stand partner, Connor. Connor, this is Adam. He’s
president of the QSU.”

Connor
shook Adam’s hand while Adam and Rebecca had a silent conversation with their
eyes. He translated it in his mind.
Is he? He is. Oh, I see.

“Nice
to meet you, Connor.” Adam rested his elbows on the bar. “Were you thinking
about joining?”

“Um…”
Connor scratched his head. Where was the momentous emotional reaction he’d
expected at his first voluntary ‘outing’? He waited a few more seconds, but
nothing came. “I guess. I mean, I’m not…I’m not out at home, yet…or anywhere,
really.”

Adam
nodded. “Yeah, man, I get that. This is your first year, right? There’s a lot
of other people here in your boat. You’ve come to the right place. We have all
the resources for any support you feel you need…or if you just feel like
kicking back and hanging out for a while, that’s fine too. Whatever you want to
do, we’re all here for you.” Adam deliberately sought and held eye contact, way
too long for comfort.

“Um…yeah,
thanks.”

Rebecca
scooted back her chair. “Sorry guys, tiny girl bladder,” she shouted over the
sounds of
Dancing Queen
. “Be right back.”

Great
. Now
he was alone with a stranger. Connor stared wistfully at the bottles of alcohol
up on the shelves, remembering the last time they’d eased his stress in a
social gathering. Too bad he stood little chance of being served underage at
this place.

Adam
took Rebecca’s place at the bar. “So, you’re a musician then. I used to play
clarinet, but I’ve sort of given it up since high school. Things get busy
around here.”

Connor
made a noncommittal
mhm
noise,
keeping an eye out on the hallway to the bathroom for Rebecca’s return.

“You
gonna sing a song for us?” Adam jerked his head in the direction of the music.

“I’m,
uh, not really a singer.”

Adam
snickered. “Right. Like they are.”

Chuckling
softly, Connor glanced toward the Karaoke stage, where several boys were
finishing their crooning of the ABBA song. Bright blond frosted tips caught his
gaze. Ray spotted him, too, and as soon as the song was over, he tossed the
microphone off to a friend and came barreling through the crowd.

“Hey!
The lone violinist!”

“Uh,
hi…French horn player.”

Ray
pulled up in front of him and surprised him with a quick hug.

“Cool.”
Adam backed away from the bar. “Looks like you already have some friends here. Well,
I’ll see you two later. I’m off to do my presidential mingling duties.”