Date: Sat, 29 Dec 2012 00:50:32 -0500
From: Cy-kun <cysanonymouslyanonymousemail@gmail.com>
Subject: Oh Radio Tell Me Everything You Know Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Sex: This story has it, again, eventually. And it's between
boys. If that bothers you, or you don't like stories that don't jump into
the sex right away, then this probably isn't for you. Copyrighted material:
Again, this story has it. I don't own the copyrights, I don't pretend to,
and this is free so I can't get sued anyway. True stories: This is not
based on one.


Introduction: Ha! I was wrong! Got another one out this year after all. Go
me! Oh, and Merry Christmas and Happy New Year and all that stuff. So,
having said all that, I have some bad news. This...man, I don't even know
how to say it, so I'm just gonna come out with it and hope no one gets too
upset with me....this chapter...is the last chapter until next year. I
know! You're gonna have to wait for next year to get anymore of Andy and
Owen. And it's horrible and, wow, this joke stopped being funny while I was
typing it. That's....new, lol. So, let's just abandon it. But I'm leaving
it in anyway because I don't have anything else to say. Except be glad you
only know me from these thingies because that kind of humor? Everyday thing
with me. Enjoy the chapter.

	-Cy

------------------------------------------


	Being grounded sucks.

	Yeah, insight of the year, right? Doesn't make it any less
true. You know what sucks even worse than being grounded though?
Parents. Parents suck. Especially moms.

	I glared at my whole room for the eightieth time since I got home
from school today, but it still wasn't magically making my TV and computer
reappear. Not that I really missed them, but they were the visible symbol
of my grounding and their empty spaces were taunting me. With glee.

	I sighed and threw myself back against my bed. Which was kinda
pointless since I was already laying down, but still. It made me feel
better. It was still about a half hour until Owen's show started and I
needed all the 'feel better' I could get. At least without kicking the
stupid main office secretary in the womb for calling my mom about all the
times I skipped gym. Except that wasn't even why I was grounded. Which
pissed me off even more.

	I'd gotten home from a pretty bad day at school (brand new bruise
on my side from being shoved into a locker to prove it) to find my mom
sitting in the kitchen with her arms folded in her 'serious parent'
pose. She told me that the school called about me skipping gym. I panicked,
thinking she was gonna go into another 'Owen's making you do drugs, isn't
he?' rant, but she was calm, just being all reasonable and sane about it
and asking why I was skipping. Which is where the problem started.

	I couldn't tell her why.

	If I told her I wasn't going to gym because I was being harassed by
the coach and half the football team, the first thing she'd do is tear down
the road to school as fast as she could in a Prius and demand righteous
justice for her son. Then Coach Williams would be called in to 'clear this
up right away Mrs Baxter' and if he pulled less than ten kids out of his
ass that would swear that no one had ever said anything mean to me or
looked at me wrong, and that I was just a slacker that didn't like trying
or maybe even that I was the one causing problems I'd be shocked. In the
end, even if my mom believed me nothing would change at school except I'd
be getting it even worse in gym as punishment for daring to be a 'rat'.

	 So in four days when I wasn't seeing Owen on Saturday because I
was still grounded, it was all gonna be my fault for keeping quiet. And
THAT'S why this sucks so much.

	I turned on my side and curled up into a ball. My clock said it was
5:30, which I thought was pretty suspicious since it said 5:28 the last
time I looked and that had to be at least an hour ago. I narrowed my
eyes. "Are you fucking with me, clock?" I growled.

	No answer.

	Stupid clock.

	After two hours on being alone in my room though, I was kind of
sick of my own thoughts, so I turned the radio on anyway. Polka boy still
hadn't been lynched yet, probably because nobody actually listened to his
show, so I got to hear some oh SO soothing accordion wailing to balance out
my shitty mood.

	Wow. I'm a snarky little shit tonight.

	I sighed again -this seems like it's gonna be one of those nights-
and placed my phone on my forehead. It was cool and that and the slight
pressure felt nice. It was something to focus on besides my problems or
waiting for Owen. And I couldn't look at my clock every ten seconds without
it falling off. Another plu-

	La Victoire est à Nous blasted full volume from my phone.

	"Gaaah!!" I yelped and shot up, catapulting the stupid thing across
my room. Stupid drums! Why the hell did I set that as my ringtone?!

	"Fuck you, Revolutionary France!" I yelled after it.

	My heart was pounding and I was kind of embarrassed at how scared a
ringing phone made me, then the embarrassment changed to anger and I
stalked over to where it was laying -still ringing and vibrating like a
dying fish, take THAT!- and without even thinking about it picked it up and
answered it.

	"What!?" I snarled.

	"Uh, Andy?" An unfamiliar voice came through.

	My body froze in sudden panic. Ohhhhh shit. I answered the phone. I
answered the phone and I don't know who I'm talking to. I answered the
phone and I think I'm gonna throw
up. IansweredthephoneIansweredthephoneIansweredthephoneIanswer-!

	"Dude, are you ok?" The voice asked again. This time it sounded
more familiar. I still couldn't believe I'd actually answered a ringing
phone without even looking at the caller ID, but my whole brain being
wrapped up in trying to figure out how that happened and putting together a
user manual to how not to ever do that again was probably the only reason I
actually said anything back.

	"J-juan?" I squeaked. Then I wished I didn't. If it wasn't him the
embarrassment was gonna kill me. Why the hell do people answer phones!?

	"Hey," he said, perking up. "How did you know it was me?" He paused
for a half a second, nowhere NEAR enough time for me to try and answer,
then kept going. "And ARE you ok, man? Cause you don't sound ok. You sound
kinda...not ok, you know?"

	My throat dried up. All those questions......

	I bit my lip. Ok Andy, this isn't a stranger. You know him. Sort
of. You've talked to him before. Sort of. You. Can. Do. This. Use your
words and try not to act like a social dipshit.

	Oh thank you brain for starting to work again.

	"I'm...." I swallowed. "Fine."

	"Are you sure? Because you sound kinda sick."

	I'm f-fine-not sick! U-um...." Shit, I am so not explaining my
phone thing to one of Owen's friends. I need to hide how much of a loser I
am for as long as possible. "W-what did y-you w-want?" No! That sounds
rude! "Um, call f-for?"

	He didn't answer right away, probably trying to decide if I was
lying. Or, more likely, trying to figure out a graceful way to hang up on
the idiot who couldn't put three sentences together.

	"Oooookay," he said. "Um, so, you're SURE you're ok, right?"

	God, what is it with people not believing me when I say I'm fine?

	"Never mind," he said before I could tell him that, yeah I was sure
I was fucking fine. "I'm just stalling."

	"St-stalling?" I asked, almost unwillingly. Could that possibly
lead to anything good?

	"Uh, yeah," he laughed nervously. "I'm kind of a closet pussy dude,
heh."

	My heart sped up at the word 'closet', then I scowled at
myself. Stop being a bitch.

	I could almost see my inner voice cringe at the incredulous glares
of all my neuroses.

	Yeah, like that'll happen.

	"Oh?" I said. Because that's what you say when you have no freaking
idea what to say.

	"Yeah," he said with that same nervous laugh. Then I heard him take
a deep breath. "Ok. Here it is. And feel free to say no, ok? If this makes
you uncomfortable or anything. Ok?"

	This is so not helping.

	I seriously considered just hanging up and taking the battery out
of my phone so he couldn't call back. But then I couldn't call Owen. Unless
I used the house phone. Which my mom wouldn't let me use because of the
grounding thing. So I just gripped my phone tighter with an increasingly
sweaty palm and soldiered on.

	Not that I could ACTUALLY soldier anywhere. I'd burn up like a leaf
under a magnifying glass in the desert and carrying one of those backpacks?
Not happening. Not to mention the fact that doing more than five push ups
would probably cripple me and.....now I'm the one stalling.

	"Um. O-ok," I managed.

	"Ok. Cool. So, I was watching this girl at school today- not
stalking her or anything! I just saw her when I was going to gym and she
was, God, the hottest girl I'd ever seen. Just, perfect dude. Like,
everything I'd ever wanted in a girl just, walking down the hall. I swear I
didn't even know I was following her at first, it just sorta happened, you
know?"

	I chewed on my lip nervously. "O-oh?"

	"Yeah! So, anyway, I was following her, right, and she stopped by
this locker and started talking to this guy. And I was crushed, right?
Like, of COURSE she had a boyfriend. Why wouldn't she, she's perfect
right. But then I saw the guy and I was totally relieved because...." He
trailed off. When he spoke again it came out in a jumbly rush that I almost
didn't
understand. "ItwasyouandcouldyoumaybetellmewhathernameisandtellherthatIloveher?"

	It took me a few seconds to puzzle that out. And then another few
seconds to figure out what it meant. A girl I was talking to today? The
only girl I talked to today was- "Oh my god! You like CHERYL?!" I blurted
out.

	His sigh was suspiciously dreamy. "Cheryl." he said almost
reverently. Like he was testing it out on his lips, and liking it. "Is that
her name?"

	I was too surprised to remember that I was terrified. Actually, I
don't even think I was terrified anymore. This whole conversation just
turned from horrible to possibly delightful. "That depends. Short girl,
brown hair, ponytail, built like one of those MMA boxer type guys?"

	"Yeah," he said. "That's her."

	"Then yeah, that's Cheryl."

	"Wow..." he said. "That's like, the perfect name for her."

	I giggled. Which quickly turned into a few chuckles that I tried to
hide. But then those turned into full on laughter and I didn't even bother
hiding it.

	"What?" Juan asked defensively. "What's so funny? Is she...is
she...with someone?"

	I heard him preparing to be hurt in the way he asked, and I felt
really bad but I couldn't help laughing even harder. "N-no! I-" I swallowed
more laughs. "I've never seen her date anyone that she liked who was real."

	"Huh?" he just sounded confused now.

	"Never mind," I said quickly. "She's totally available."

	"Awesome!" Juan let out a huge, relieved sigh. Then laughed
happily. "I was so worried when you started laughing.....hey, why were you
laughing anyway?"

	"I'm gonna be able to pay her back for SO much-" I cut myself
off. There was no good way to finish that sentence. "It doesn't
matter. You're perfect for her. And I'm gonna help you woo the shit out of
her." I bit my lip, hard, to keep from exploding in another fit of giggles
at that. Now I know why she kept butting into my business with Owen. This
was gonna be so fun!

	Juan started to say something several times, probably trying to
figure out what the hell to respond to first. Finally he decided on, "Do
you really think so?"

	"Think what?"

	"That, I'm perfect for her?" he asked softly.

	The urge to laugh died down. Did I really say that? I did, didn't
I? But was it true? I started to feel a bit guilty. The first thing that
pops into my head when someone tells me they like Cheryl is how fun it's
gonna be to use that to pay her back for all the times she did it to me. I
didn't even really think about her feelings. Or Juan's.

	He did sound like he really liked her. A few months ago I would
have gagged at the love at first sight thing, but not after Owen. It IS
possible. But was he really good for Cheryl? She'd never had a real
boyfriend, so I wasn't even sure what kind of guy she'd like. Well, that's
not true I guess. A certain embarrassing incident from a few summers ago
flashed through my head and, at least back then, I knew exactly the kind of
guy she'd like.

	So, let's compare.

	Sense of humor? Yep, he definitely has that.

	Dark hair? Check.

	Slimmer than her? Another check.

	Taller than her? Christ, who isn't?

	Insecure? I wouldn't have thought so before this call, but,
maybe. At least where she's concerned. And I know he's comfortable around
friends so when he got used to her he'd definitely relax and be
himself. Another thing I knew she liked.

	A need to be taken care of? I had no idea. But he WAS younger than
her and didn't look like he could defend himself, so he might tick that box
just from that.

	Doesn't scream and run away when she kisses him? Based on the way
he talked about her, I figured that one was a given. Which was probably
like five pluses in her book.

	So, perfect? I dunno. But that seemed like a pretty good start.

	"I think you have a good chance," I said seriously.

	"And...you'll help me?" he asked hesitantly.

	I started to nod, then rolled my eyes at myself. "Yeah," I
said. "I'll do my best. And she's my best friend so if I can't help you, no
one can."

	Juan let out a short laugh. "Thanks....seriously. I didn't...I
kinda thought you'd hang up on me. Or be too shy to help, you know?"

	"I..." I licked my lips. "If it was anything else, I probably would
be. But, I don't think I've ever been shy about anything to do with
Cheryl. And like I said, she's my best friend. If you wanna make her happy
I'm kind of obligated to help you."

	And if I teased her a bit about it, well, she started it.

	"Thanks dude," he said. "Seriously. You're awesome."

	I blushed, totally destroying the illusion that Cheryl related
things get me over my shyness, and mumbled out a "you're welcome."

	 We still had some time before Owen's show (not that I told him
that's why I needed to go, of course) so we talked a little bit about
Cheryl. He didn't compliment me again, so I was actually able to hold a
normal conversation. Go Andy! I told him about her hobbies and what she
liked and didn't like and how we met, even though I was about a year away
from being able to form memories when that happened.

	He seemed to get more into her the more I said. Which was good,
because if I was gonna help Cheryl get a real boyfriend then I wanted it to
be someone who liked all of her, even the bad bits. Which I definitely went
into. Especially the nosiness and the 'knowing what's best for you better
than you' thing. I may have left out how often she's right about that
though. It felt wrong praising her for something I hate.

	It felt good though, talking to him like this. I felt like a real
friend. Once the shock wore off I felt really good that he called me about
this. I mean yeah, he only did it because he knew I knew Cheryl, but he
still called me hoping that I'd help him. No one besides Cheryl and Owen
had ever reached out to me for anything before, and they were both firmly
in the friend or boyfriend category before that. This time I felt like I
was actually MAKING a friend, instead of doing something for someone I was
already there with. Once the terror faded away, it was a great feeling.

	Eventually it got to be closer to six and I said I needed to go eat
dinner. I know! I make a friend all on my own and immediately start lying
to him. Ugh. But, what's the other option? Tell him the truth? Because that
just had 'happy ending' written ALL over it.

	We hung up and I listened to the last bit of polka boy's show. When
Owen came on, I didn't call him right away. I just sat leaning against my
wall with my pillows propped up behind me, enjoying his voice. I kept
thinking things like 'I know what that voice sounds like when he's cumming'
and 'I know what it sounds like when we're having s-e-x'. I giggled to
myself, enjoying listening and building up the anticipation for when I'd
call.

	"Hey Andy," Owen said when I finally called. I frowned slightly. He
sounded.....distracted. "What's up?"

	"Um, I just wanted to talk to you?" I said hesitantly. He'd always
been teasing or flirty when I called in in the past. Tonight he
seemed....off.

	"Oh," he said. Then he sighed. "I...wanted to talk to you too."

	I bit my lip. "Oh?"

	"Yeah. Um, but it's kind of...." he let out a breath. "I can't
really talk right now. Can I call you after I'm done here?"

	"But-"

	"Please," he cut me off pleadingly.

	"O-ok," I said quietly.

	"Thanks," he said, sounding relieved and worried at the same time,
if that's possible. "And I'm sorry. I'll call you when I get home."

	"Ok," I said again.

	Owen said bye and hung up.

	I just stared at my phone. That...was weird. Owen had never acted
like that around me before. It was almost like...he didn't wanna talk to
me? But that can't be right.

	Could it?

	No. You know what? I'm not even gonna go there. I could so easily
freak out about this right now but I'm not going to. I know Owen. If he
didn't want to talk he would have said so. He wouldn't have just, shoved me
aside like that. And he loves me. Why wouldn't he wanna talk to me?

	Maybe he's hiding something?

	No! That's the opposite of not going there! I shook my head
violently. I'm not gonna come up with crazy theories. My head is theory
free. My mind is a blank canvas, ready to be painted with whatever reason
Owen had for not wanting to talk during his show. I'm just gonna wait for
him to paint and just....not think about it.

	With that decided, I nodded firmly to myself just to show how
serious I was and focused all my attention on Owen's show.

	He sounded just like he always did, so it was easy to sit back and
relax and just listen to his voice and the music. It was soothing, like it
always was. That had to be good, right? If he was upset with me or
something he wouldn't sound so normal on the radio. Right? Unless he was
really good at hiding-

	No! Blank canvas! Blank canvas!

	Ok, listening to his show wasn't helping. But I really didn't want
to turn him off. I really liked listening to him and he usually played
great music and his voice WAS soothing. Maybe I was just TOO focused on
him? Yeah, that sounds reasonable. If listening to Owen is the only thing
I'm doing of COURSE I'm gonna be thinking about him. So, I need to be doing
something else while he's, like, background music, or something.

	I decided to play with my phone. I didn't have any games so I
started looking around for new ringtones. Something that wasn't a stupid
French marching song that was way too loud with way too many drums. I
scrolled around for a while through a bunch of apps. Most of them were god
awful, filled with Top 40 crap and even then only played the chorus over
and over again. In the end I decided to stick with my 19th century marching
songs app. Der Koniggratzer March was pretty catchy. And not a single loud
ass drum in sight. Uh, sound. So I picked that.

	I looked over at my clock to see how much time I'd wasted and just
enough time to notice that it was actually after seven when Koniggratzer
blasted from my phone, right in front of my face. I yelped and jumped back,
smashing my head into the back of the wall.

	"Fucking Germans!" I yelled. I glared at my phone, then saw Owen's
name on the caller ID and scrambled to answer it.

	"Hi!" I said, trying for cheerful -he can't be mad at me if I'm
cheerful, right?- but probably just coming off frantic.

	If I did though, he didn't seem to notice. "Hey," he said
quietly. "Sorry about before."

	I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. I wanted to blame it
all on Germany and the German people, but now that I was talking to him I
could admit to myself that I was pretty terrified of being painted on.

	"It's alright," I said, matching his tone. "Are...is everything
ok?"

	"...it depends," he said. I could almost see the paintbrush, held
by a creepy, disembodied arm pause right in front of the canvas as it
prepared to make the first stroke. Even worse, I could feel a brand new
neurosis forming. I'd never be able to look at a painting without suspicion
again.

	"O-on what?" I asked.

	Owen took a deep breath. "You. You, um, might get really mad at me
in a second."

	I practically melted with relief.

	"Oh thank god," I breathed out. The paintbrush started painting a
beautiful, calming landscape. Even the floating arm didn't seem to creepy
anymore.

	"Thank god?" Owen asked, confused.

	"Yeah," I said, then laughed. "You have no idea. I was so worried
that YOU were mad at ME. I thought...I don't even know, because I didn't
let myself think about anything but Germany but-" I shook my head
rapidly. "It doesn't matter. I'm just freaking relieved. So, what am I
gonna be mad at you about?"

	"I..." Owen paused. I heard him lick his lips. "I wanna tell my
friends. About me. And you, um, us."

	Suddenly the arm flipped the paintbrush around until it was holding
it like a knife. It violently stabbed the half finished landscape while it
laughed maniacally before going off to murder its family and burn its house
to the ground.

	"....what?" I squeaked. "P-please tell me you're joking."

	"I'm not joking," he said. He sounded calmer. More sure than he did
before. Like maybe actually saying it out loud gave him strength, or
something. But that was a bad thing. Because this was a bad idea. And I was
terrified. But not for me.

	"Are you crazy?" I hissed. "You can't TELL people!"

	"I WANT to-"

	"That doesn't matter!" I cut him off. "You HAVE to keep it a
secret. Trust me. You think I wanna keep lying to everyone I know-"

	"Yes! I do!" he yelled. "And you have good reasons. But I
don't. Not anymore."

	"What the hell does that mean?" I asked frantically. "You don't
think not having the entire school hate you and beat the shit out of you
every day is a bad reason?"

	"I don't wanna shout it over the PA, Andy." Owen said. "I just
wanna tell my friends. The ONLY reason I never told them was because I
didn't want my mom finding out. And because I didn't want to lose them."

	"That's two reasons," I snapped.

	"Andy," Owen said reproachfully. Then continued, "My mom's ok with
it, and so is Chris. I was talking with him yesterday and he thinks Juan
and Kenny will be ok with it too."

	"Did he tell them!?"

	"No, he said he wouldn't and he didn't."

	"Fine." I was starting to sense that Owen was a bit annoyed that I
was pretty much calling his friend a liar. And I didn't wanna piss him off,
just get him to see how wrong he was. "But what if they're not ok with it?
What if one of them hates you and tells everyone else and you start getting
all the abuse that I get?"

	"That won't happen. They're not cruel Andy. Even if one of them had
a problem they wouldn't do that to me."

	"How do you know?" I asked.

	"Because they're my friends."

	"That you've never told," I countered.

	"That I wanna tell now."

	"So that's it? You're just gonna tell them?" I bit my lip, not
wanting to sound selfish, but I couldn't stop myself from asking, "What
about me?"

	Owen sighed. "I don't wanna tell them your secrets. But if I tell
them about me what's the point if I don't tell them about you? I'm doing
this because I LIKE the idea of the people I care about knowing about
us. Of not having to always watch myself around fucking everybody. And my
mom knowing and being ok with it, liking you? That's an amazing feeling. I
want that with my friends too. I wanna show you off and brag about you and
smile at you and have them know why. I wanna be able to hang out with them
as boyfriends, instead of trying to pretend you aren't my whole world."

	I softened, just a bit. How the hell couldn't I when he says things
like that? But I still thought it was a bad idea. So much could go
wrong. And I didn't really understand why telling people was so important
to him. He had me, his mom knew and accepted him AND us, why couldn't that
be enough? I never wanted Cheryl to know before she found out. I never once
had the urge to tell her, or anyone else. Why does he?

	"Where are you planning on telling them?" I asked, deciding to try
a different approach. "At lunch surrounded by a hundred people? In the
halls or in class where anyone can overhear you?"

	"We're all going over to Kenny's this weekend. I wanted to tell
them then," he said, then added softly, "I'd really love it if you were
there too."

	"I..." my throat closed up. Oh God, he's really gonna do this,
isn't he? "I'm grounded!" I yelled suddenly, grasping onto the last straw
that I had. "I can't go anywhere this weekend."

	"Andy..." Owen said disbelievingly.

	"I'm not lying," I said, somewhat hurt. Did he really think I'd lie
to him? Ok, maybe I'm not at my most rational right now, but still. "I got
grounded today. I wouldn't be able to see you this weekend anyway."

	"What happened?" he asked.

	"The school called about me skipping gym," I said.

	"Oh. Does your mom still think you're doing drugs?" he asked,
hesitantly.

	"No!" I said, not even realizing the opening he left me. I just
hated him thinking that my mom might still think he's a bad influence. "She
didn't ground me for skipping, she grounded me for not telling her why."

	"Why what?" he asked.

	"Why I skip gym," I answered.

	"Oh..." Owen said. He paused before going on. "Maybe...you should
tell her."

	"No way!" I said. "You KNOW why I did it. I can't tell her that!
You just want me to tell her so I can get ungrounded and go with you this
weekend."

	I didn't mean it, and I felt bad right after I said it. But I was
too keyed up to let it distract me making an apology. I had two fights to
win now. Yay, life.

	"No, Andy," Owen said patiently. "I do want you to come with me,
but I think you should tell her for you. Maybe she could, I dunno, get you
out of gym somehow? Switch your period?"

	I snorted. "Yeah, because Coach Williams doesn't have an entire
football, basketball and baseball team to lie for him and say nothing ever
happened. And they definitely won't kick my ass even more for telling."

	"You should still try. They're going to keep harassing you anyway,"
Owen said angrily. "You might as well at least try something. Maybe it'll
work."

	"It won't," I said.

	"Goddammit Andy!" he snapped. I blinked, the sudden anger
surprising me. "You're always so fucking sure things aren't going to work
out. You can't tell me how you feel about me because there's no way I could
possibly feel the same, you can't let anyone find out you're gay because
everyone just wants a reason to kick your ass and you can't even try to
fight back because that'll just make everything worse." He paused, then
said more calmly, "You were as wrong as anyone could possibly be about one
of those. Maybe you're wrong about the rest too."

	I hated the way he sounded, even more than having my stupidity
about him in the beginning thrown in my face. It seemed like this actually
hurt him to say it more than it hurt me to go through it. But I knew he was
wrong.

	"I don't just assume everything's gonna go wrong. I KNOW it
will. That's from experience. I never had any experience with liking
someone before you, so, ok fine THAT I assumed, but I still had a good
reason to assume you wouldn't like me back. No one likes me. Not as a
friend and definitely not as anything more. And I was wrong that time. But
the rest? It's all happened to me before. The same way. Every time. And
it'll happen again because things don't change," I finished bitterly.

	Owen was silent for a long time. I hoped.....I didn't know what I
hoped. I think I hoped I didn't just shatter his dreams of being open with
his friends, but at the same time that's exactly what I hoped. I hoped he'd
realize that I had more experience with this kind of thing than he did and
that there was no way he could reason his way into this all turning out
perfect. I just wanted him to be as happy with what we had as I was,
without needing to change things. I mean, fuck, I just made an actual
friend on my own for the first time ever less than two hours ago, and now
he wanted to tell that friend that we were both gay and together? Juan
would never want my help with Cheryl, or anything else, ever again.

	"You're wrong, you know," Owen finally said. "Not about the
experience thing. Because you've been through a lot of harassment and
bullying. And it kills me every time I think about not being able to
protect you from that. But I think you just expect everything to go wrong
so you don't even give things a chance. Because, I liked you Andy. From the
second I saw you. And I wasn't the only one, because Kevin? He liked you
too. That's two people that thought you were amazing, without even knowing
you. And at least for me, knowing you just made you even more amazing.

	"And my friends? Every single one of them liked you from day
one. Except Chris, but he came around. I didn't ask to go over to Kenny's
this weekend. He asked me. And he invited you. He liked when you ate lunch
with us and he told me he missed having you around. He WANTED you to come
over and hang out with us. He even asked me twice to make sure I asked
you. And Juan brings you up all the time when we talk. Even Chris said more
than once since he found out about us that we make a nice couple. So, not
everyone hates you. Not everyone's looking to think the worst about you so
they can beat you up. And if all your experience tells you that none of
that should be true, then your fucking experience is fucking wrong. And so
are you."

	It's not fun, having truths stripped away from you. Actually, it
really fucking hurts. Because Owen was right. Everything in my life,
everything that's ever happened to me, has showed me one thing over and
over again; nobody likes me. Nobody wants to like me. Nobody wants to give
me a chance.

	But if that's really true, then I shouldn't have Owen. And even if
he's an anomaly, then his friends shouldn't want anything to do with
me. Juan never should have called to ask me to help him get a girl. Chris
never should have been ok with me dating one of his best friends. Nurse Amy
should have ran me off with a pitchfork the second I came to her door. And
if Owen's right about then, then that makes me wrong. And if I could be
wrong about that, after being so sure for so many years that I was right?

	Then what else could I be wrong about?

	"I..." I swallowed. "Ok. I'll t-tell my mom. And..." I winced. In
actual pain because saying this next thing physically hurt. But not as much
as knowing how much it hurt Owen to say everything he just said, that he
never would have said it unless he really believed it. And that's the only
reason I said it. Because I'd never do it for me. I'd never want to. But if
I could have even the smallest hope of me being wrong, of this not turning
into the biggest mistake of our lives, I could do it for him. "I'll come
with you, and we...you can tell t-them."

	"Really?" Owen asked hesitantly. "You're not...just saying that,
right?"

	"I mean it," I said.

	"Are you su-"

	"I swear to God if you ask me if I'm sure..." I trailed off
threateningly.

	Owen laughed, and I felt a smile tug at my lips too. Even after all
that, it still felt good to make him laugh.

	"I'm still scared," I said, a minute later.

	"About-"

	"Everything," I cut him off.

	"It won't be as bad as you think," Owen said. "I promise."

	That made me feel better. Not just the promise, but that I could
believe it. "I can honestly say that I hope so."

	"Good," Owen said, sounding pleased. I guess he understood exactly
what I meant.

	I smiled.

	We didn't talk for a while after that. It didn't bother me. I was
totally ok with not talking to Owen right now if that conversation is a
sample of what will come out. In fact, I was ready to swear everyone around
me to a vow of silence just to hopefully put off the inevitable heart
attack for another few years. Whether vows of silence work that way or not.

	"Hey," Owen said, breaking the wonderful, wonderful silence. "Can I
ask you something?"

	Dammit. Should have been quicker with the vows.

	"Sure," I sighed. After everything I'd already agreed to, answering
one question wasn't even worth fighting.

	"How did you...tell Cheryl?" he asked hesitantly. "About you being
gay?"

	I winced, then blushed, THEN scowled because I hated how much
thinking about that still made me wanna hide in a dark, dark hole. Owen
sounded a bit unsure, and part of me wanted to jump on that and tear into
it like a rabid dog and try to convince him that telling his friends was a
horrible idea. I pushed the thought away and tried to cling to the other
thought, the one that said Owen might be right. Because like it or not,
that's the thought I was putting all the chips on.

	Ugh, poker references. Now I know I'm fucked up. What the hell was
I supposed to be doing? Oh. Right.

	"Um," I said. "I never actually told her. She just...found out."

	Even though I knew it was pointless, I hoped he wouldn't ask the
obvious follow up question.

	"How did she find out?"

	Dammit.

	I tried to find a way to put the words together. I'd never tried to
tell anyone before -who would I even tell?- and I tried not to think about
it a lot. When I did, it was in out of order flashes that popped into my
head at the most random times and I tried to push them away as quickly as
possible. But this was Owen asking. Not just that, it was Owen asking
because, as confident and sure as he might have been about telling his
friends, he was still nervous about it. This wouldn't help him magically
find the best way to come out, but if I couldn't at least try to distract
him and make him relax then I'm a pretty useless love of his life.

	Still doesn't make it any less embarrassing though.

	"She, um, sorta came onto me..." I said.

	"What?!" Owen exclaimed.

	"It...I mean...I thought she was wearing the bikini's to piss off
her mom! We were twelve and I was JUST figuring out I was gay and she'd
wear these tiny bathing suits with thongs and....I looked. A lot. Because,
it was supposed to turn me on, you know? But it didn't. And I thought it
was because she was more like a sister than a girl, right? But, yeah, that
was bull and when I figured out girls in bathing suits weren't ever gonna
turn me on, I stopped looking and started...."

	"Freaking out?" Owen suggested.

	"Yeah, that," I said. "So, I never noticed that she noticed me
looking. And I definitely never noticed that she'd decided she liked
it. But she did. And when I stopped looking she started wearing skimpier
and skimpier bathing suits and walking around in front of me more than
swimming and one day her parents were out and we were alone and I guess she
just lost her patience and decided to stop being subtle....so she kissed
me..."

	"What happened?" Owen asked in that 'I know it's gonna be bad but
I'm so wrapped up in the story I need to know how it ends' way.

	"I screamed. And ran away. And locked myself in her bathroom and
cried. For an hour."

	"Oh," Owen said.

	I winced. "Yeah. She uh, kinda guessed after that."

	"Did she...I mean, I know she's fine with it now but how did she
react when she found out?"

	 I laughed softly. This part I didn't mind remembering. "She hugged
me and told me that I'd always be her best friend no matter what. Then she
punched me in the arm and yelled at me for 'making her walk around shaking
her ass dressed like a hooker' for a month."

	It was a nice memory, even with the punch. Which I'm pretty sure
she only gave me because the hug and the acceptance started off a whole new
round of tears -happy ones this time- and that got awkward after a
while. Especially since we were still in our swim suits. It was the first
time I'd ever been accepted for everything about me, and it was the thing
that kept me sane when I realized what being gay would mean to my dad.

	"Wow," Owen said. "That's...a really nice story, actually."

	"Yeah," I agreed. "I'm glad you're not rubbing it in my face
though."

	"Huh?" he asked.

	"Because it's just more proof that I'm so wrong about everyone
hating me for being gay?" I said, hoping it came off as teasing and not
bitching.

	"I wouldn't rub it in your face, love." He sounded serious, but I
could definitely hear a smirk in his next words. "And that's not the best
example of things turning out all right. I kinda doubt we'll all end up in
bathing suits crying and hugging in the bathroom this weekend."

	I shuddered, then laughed despite myself. "God I hope not."

	We didn't talk about it anymore than that. Everything that needed
to be said already was. Instead we silently decided not to talk about
anything else that was serious, sticking to safe topics like the overrating
of the Beatles and whether or not Courtney Love could have staged a
convincing suicide for JFK.

	I also found out that Juan got my number from Owen. I honestly
didn't even think to wonder how the hell he got it until Owen asked what he
wanted to talk to me about. I thought about being mad at him for giving my
number out when he knows how I am with phones, but I couldn't bring myself
to start another fight. It all worked out fine so I bit back the
melodramatic 'how could you do this to me?' rant and just told him about
Juan liking Cheryl. He got excited and immediately promised to help with
the wooing. I accepted, grateful for the help and that he didn't even try
to use Juan's phone call as another example of how ready his friends were
to accept our homoness.

	My boy is the best.

	When we hung up, I let myself sit back and bask in the glow of
having successfully distracted Owen from his nervousness. And if he didn't
exactly do the same for me this time, well, sometimes loving someone means
giving more than you get and being completely happy about it. And this
weekend? I was gonna be giving Owen enough to maybe even put a dent in
everything he gave me.

	But, if that even had the tiny chance of going well that Owen
convinced me of, I needed to do something else first. Something that was
almost as scary as coming out.

	I needed to tell my mom about gym.

---------------------------------------

	How gay is it that I keep trying to think of places to go just so I
have an excuse to wear my new coat?