Page 36 of Bloom

I took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. “It’s very boring, I’m afraid. I have a brother and a sister, both younger. My parents are still married. They live in Concord.”

“Cool. They know you’re gay?”

“Yep. Well, I didn’t really come out until after high school. I’d been seeing a guy and kinda played it off as a friend who I hung out with but, clearly, I was never a good actor because my mum asked me to invite my boyfriend over for dinner so they could meet him. And that was that. I asked her about it later andshe assumed I knew that they all knew I was gay. It was never discussed. It was just how it was.”

Linden snorted. “Well, that’s a good thing, right? They certainly weren’t against it.”

“Oh sure, it was a good thing. She also said the fact that in my high school days I would belt out George Michael songs in the shower was a bit of a sign, and that my teenage infatuation with shirtless Ricky Martin posters went above and beyond what would probably be classed as heteronormative.”

He laughed. “Probably.”

“But yes, they were fine with it. What about you? How was your family?”

“Well, my parents split when I was about two. My father stuck around for a few years of parental visits that were purely mandatory fromhisparents’ part; apparently his mother made him. When I was about five, I was very clearly more fem than other boys. I liked my sister’s dress-up games, and we’d play dolls and do make-up, and my dad told my mum it wasn’t right. Long story short, she told him to never come back.”

Damn.

“Ouch.”

He braved a smile. “They had a million differences and a lot of other issues, not just me. And Mum could deal with him hating everything about her, but the second he tried that shit on five-year-old me, she was done. He wanted to still live as a single man without a wife and kids, and he bailed as soon as he could. So he was merely the donor, never a father, never a dad.”

I nodded. “Your mum sounds great.”

“She is. She’s had a new boyfriend now for about five years. He’s a nice guy. Treats her like a queen.”

“I’m glad.”

“And your first kiss? Boy or girl? And how terrible was it?”

I laughed. “I was in year ten at school, so fifteen, I guess? It was with a boy, and it was, without contest, terrible.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I mean, there were butterflies and that adrenaline rush of excitement, but it was more of a smashing of faces in the bathrooms at the movies.”

He laughed. “I love that.”

“I think he was mostly curious, whereas I totally knew I was into guys. He was my first unrequited love so it’s kinda bittersweet.”

“Aww, teen angst at its finest.”

“Absolutely.” I sipped my drink. “And what about your first kiss?”

“Oh, awkward and embarrassing. I was shaking so bad I thought he was going to jab me with an EpiPen.”

I almost snorted coffee out of my nose.

He sighed and raised his chin, and if he’d had long hair, I’m sure he would have flicked it. “But he was also a huge creep. I was fourteen and he was eighteen.”

“Ew.”

“Yep. Back then I thought I was mature and all grown up. In hindsight, I can see I was still a child and he was a pervert.”

“Ah, yes.”

“I never did anything more with him than that one kiss, but it cemented my gaydom. There was no doubt after that,” he added. Then he winced. “That I liked guys, not paedophiles.”

I snorted. “Yes, I got that. But thanks for the clarification.”

He smiled at me. “So, what’s your ideal date?”

“April twenty-fifth.”