Illicit Affairs

seventeen. heavenly dreams

A few more days pass before we're finally alone. We both lead busy lives, and we're rarely together except for at night but by then, we're both too tired to start anything.

I try to remain focused as I look at the paper right in front of me. It's a flyer for an LGBTQ+ support group at my school. I've been considering joining something more at school for a while, and this just called to me.

If I was out, then I might be able to join.

Of course, I can't do anything about that because of my strange situation but it would be nice to dream. I wonder what it's like to be proudly open about who you are to the world.

I've been craving that feeling of freedom for years. It never goes away, it just grows each day.

I quickly remember that there's no point in thinking about it. My life is never going to change. Ever.

I crumble up the colorful flyer, and easily throw it into the black trash can on Aria's side of the room. It's as if I summoned her by doing that, because she opens the door just as the paper lands.

"What are you doing?" She asks.

I'm tempted to tell her to mind her own business, but my thought process pauses when I turn to look at her. She's wearing a blood red halter top that starts below the delicate line of her collarbone, and ends at her waist.

She stops waiting for a response from me, and decides to lean down to look into her trash can. As she steps down, her backside is exposed to me, and I gaze at her curves. I notice her running her fingers through the loops of her black jeans, and I assume that might be a random habit of hers.

I have a similar habit. I like playing with the loose strings of shirts and sweaters to keep myself busy. Sometimes, I do that without even realizing to.

Like right now.

I instantly pull my hand away from a random thread sticking out of my worn out purple t-shirt. It's an oversized shirt, so the extra material to wrap my fingers around has always been engaging for me. On top, I have one of my favorite grey sweaters that's harder to mess with.

"Really?" She questions, as she turns to look at me, "you want to join a gay club?"

She looks as if she's stifling a laugh, and I can't help but roll my eyes.

"Don't be so judgmental," I tell her sternly.

"I just never thought you were the kind of person to show off your sexuality. Not that it's a bad thing if you do want to do that! I just assumed that you're a very private person," she explains.

"Considering the circumstances, I can't afford to be proud about it. That's why I threw it away."

I don't know why I always have to be so negative about right now, and I'm sure that Aria must be wondering the same thing based on the confused look on her face.

I remember that I shouldn't be so pessimistic as I think back to Spencer's words from last week. I need to make more of an effort.

So, I tell her, "maybe someday!"

She doesn't seem to buy the fake positivity from me.

"Do you want to talk about it? I need an explanation," she starts to say.

She seems more serious about that, but I don't want to focus on that mess. I had mentioned it the other day but because our conversation took a unique route, I feel like I didn't give as many details as I could have. She does need to know more.

But not right now.

Right now, I have a better idea in mind though.

I try to distract her by saying, "I need an explanation too."