Love is... 1 (Marcus and Justus) - 4. Chapter 4

When Saturday came, I woke up a bit earlier than usual to shower, get dressed, choose my clothes, and prepare myself mentally for going to Justus’s house. Honestly, I didn’t put much thought into it—not because I was trying to dress up nicely to impress him, but because I had to meet his parents, which was different from anything I was used to. So I had to choose an outfit that looked neat and appropriate in the eyes of grown-ups, not just to please Justus alone.

I met Chubby at school, and we took the bus together to our destination. I felt a little excited but tried not to show it to Chubby; he teased me again and again until we arrived at his front door. By then, I couldn’t hold back my anticipation any longer.

“Hey, Chubby, let’s go back,” I said, tapping his light jacket sleeve.

He turned and looked at me blankly. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Seriously?” I thought he might scold me instead.

“Seriously. If you want to go back, just say so. We can go back anytime. I don’t care. We just had to wake up so early, take a frigging bus, and walk until we arrived here, in front of his house. But you chicken shit got scared, which I totally understand. So, let’s go back home.”

“Fuck you, Chubby,” I grumbled.

“Hey, I’m serious—let’s go back. Hurry up and go home like you said,” Chubby began walking.

“Wait, Chubby!” I grabbed his jacket. “Don’t be mad at me, okay?”

“Goddamn, you’re so dramatic. If you really want to go back, then let’s move your ass and go.” He started walking again.

“Damn it, Chubby,” I said, holding his jacket. “Don’t be mad at me like that. You know me. I just… Fuck!”

“I’m not mad at you, and I’m also not kidding nor being sarcastic. If we wanna run, you’d better run now before I press the doorbell or Justus comes out,” he said flatly.

“You’re totally being sarcastic with me.”

“I said I am not! But you are a coward! And I understand you so well—see? I’m such a good friend.” He crossed his arms.

“I’m not a coward.”

“Really? Then what are you? A warrior? A brave prince? What kind of main character are you, running home after coming all the way to meet someone you have feelings for?”
I felt a choke in my throat when he said ‘someone you have feelings for.’ “Well… I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Then let’s simplify it. You’re really into him, don’t you?”

“Wha—! I mean I…” I stumbled when I saw his face. I looked down at the ground. “I don’t know…”

“You don’t know?”

“Well…”

“And do you want to know?”

“It’s hard for me, man,” I frowned. “You have to understand where I come from. Don’t forget I’ve never felt anything like this toward anyone. Heck, I’ve never even felt this way about myself. And most importantly, he and I have just started to get this close since the semester began.”

“When you said ‘never felt like this before,’ what do you mean?”

“That’s why I told you it’s hard to explain,” I shook my head in frustration.

“And the reason you don’t know shit is because you’ve just started to really know him recently, is that it? You’re feeling like you don’t know him enough?”

“Maybe…” I sighed. “I don’t know. Well, I mean, it’s not that I don’t know him at all or don’t know him enough, because I really did get to know him better over time. And in retrospect, I don’t feel this way about other guys I’ve known longer than I’ve known Justus. But it’s just…”

That’s right. I’d only discovered who Justus really was after we were paired up in tennis class. He was completely different from the guy I’d imagined. I like how he thinks, the way he talks, the way he interacts with me, and a lot of other things as well.

“Damn it! I really don’t know what to say!” I scratched my head. “I’ve just realized these things not long ago—please don’t pressure me too much, Chubby. You’re stressing me out!”
We were arguing like that for a while until someone opened the door to greet us.

“You guys surprised me, you know that?” Justus smiled at us. “Why didn’t you call or text me? Why are you standing out here? Come on in.”

I followed Chubby and Justus into the house. Then Justus led us to his parents before taking us to the dining table, where he said the cookies on the table were freshly baked by his mom. She also mentioned she would prepare lunch and some brownies for us later.

“Hey, isn’t this too much?” I said anxiously.

“Come on, dear, this is nothing.” Justus’s mom, who popped out of nowhere, touched my shoulders gently, making me jump. “Eat a lot. You boys are growing like weeds. I’m going to make special lunch for you, too. So don’t sneak off to buy snacks before lunchtime, or I’ll be very, very upset,” she glanced at Chubby.

“Thanks, Mrs. Lin. I promise I’ll be a good boy as usual.” Chubby grinned.

“Good. Eat a lot, so you can be chubby like your name.” She pinched his cheeks, then turned toward her son. “Justus has been so excited that Chubby and Marcus decided to come. He woke up early to tidy up and couldn’t even sit still.”

“DO NOT exaggerate, Mom.”

“I certainly do not. You can ask your dad. Honey…!!”

“Don’t call Dad here!” Justus jumped to hold his mom in place, then turned toward us. “You two have some cookies and other snacks first. Let me put my mom in the kitchen.”

“Hey. I’m your mother! How dare you?”

“Shhh…” Justus kissed his mom on the cheek and then guided her out of the dining room.

“His mom is really sweet, right?” Chubby said to me.

“Uh-huh.”

“Justus is sweet, too, right?”

“Yeah—wait a minute!” I swiftly turned toward him. “Don’t even start here, you bastard.”

“Start what?” he put on his smug face. “By the way, did I just hear ‘yeah’ a moment ago?”
I grabbed my tennis racket from the floor. “I’ll hit your frigging nose.”

“Oww, ow, ow. Don’t hit Chubby. Chubby is so scared…” He leaned back and mocked me, pretending to be terrified. But suddenly he straightened up and towered over me. “Pfft! You are pathetic! Scared even of your own heart.”

My face turned blood red. “You fucker!”

“What? Why? Not true?”

“Hey, what’s going on? You two are fighting again?” Justus walked back to the table. “Sometimes I wonder if you two are really close friends or sworn enemies. I always see you guys biting each other’s tails.”

“Well, that’s how this asshole is. He always picks a fight with someone he loves,” Chubby slyly looked at me.

“Oh well…” Justus sat on the chair next to me. “And what time do you plan to play tennis?”

“We can go now. It’s not too hot outside.”

“Good idea, but Marcus, I think you should change first. You have something more appropriate for the court, right?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, then go get changed in the bathroom over there,” he pointed down the hall. “We’ll start once you’re back.”

After I finished changing, they took me to the nearby tennis courts, which were totally empty. Justus said most students preferred basketball or the pool in the evening.

“But there are three of us—how are we going to pair up?” Chubby asked.

“Oh, fatso—you could pair up with Justus and play against me alone, and I’ll still win.” Oh maybe I should mention that even though we called him Chubby, but he actually wasn’t fat at all. He was basically a jock like me. But why did we call him that? That’s for another time.

“Welllll, you asshole,” Chubby lightly kicked me. “Always mouthy, geez.”

“You two can play by yourselves first. I’m going to practice on the rebound board. I need to warm up.” Justus picked up a tennis ball and walked away.

“Yeah, cool. Practice controlling your power and adjusting your racket face properly,” I said.
Justus nodded before picking a ball and starting to drill.

“Come on, Marcus—today’s the day. I’ll shut your big mouth,” Chubby said, rolling up his sleeves and pointing his racket at my face. “You’re facing off against ‘Ryoma-sama’ from ‘The Prince of Tennis’!”

“With that big mouth, let me really give it to you hard!” I said.

Chubby and I rallied at the net as if our lives depended on it for about half an hour. During that time, I completely forgot about Justus because I was too focused on beating Chubby and trading insults. Only when Chubby finally admitted defeat and asked for a break did I notice Justus still drilling alone at the rebound board.

I immediately felt a bit guilty.

“Hey, Justus! Come play with Marcus for a bit. Switch with me—I’m tired,” Chubby yelled.

“Fuck, I’m not that good, damn it,” Justus said.

“Don’t worry—Marcus plays gentler with you than he does with me.”

I really wanted to shove a tennis racket up Chubby’s ass!

Justus walked onto the court, and Chubby retreated to sit under the shade of a tree.

“Take it easy on me, okay? Don’t play too rough—I’m lazy to run.”

“I know, okayyy,” I agreed. “But you’ve been covering the court like a pro for a while now.”

“A rally, man—not a death match like you two just had.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, tossing the ball into the air and then hitting it back across the net.

I had no idea how long we played. All I knew was that I felt more joy and ease than I had expected. It was a completely different vibe from school tennis—full of laughter and teasing, not cruelty. I laughed, he laughed; I insulted, he laughed—and even when he fired back, I still laughed.

I thought he’d improved a lot, truly. But as we played, he kept saying how good I was and that he wanted to be as good as me. That, more than anything, made me smile.

“I think I’m starting to like tennis,” Justus said as we rallied at the net.

“Really? You like it?”

“Well, yeah. It’s fun. I think it tires me out more than playing soccer, and if I were better at it, I’d be even more exhausted, for sure.”

“Why?”

He extended his arm to receive the ball but missed. He let it bounce behind him without fetching it, then walked up to me at the net.

“Seeing how you were playing with Chubby, I was surprised, you bastard. You two run all over the court nonstop—hit left, hit right, and neither of you ever give an inch—you try to return every ball. But today, when you play with me, you mostly hit in a way I can easily return, so I don’t have to run as much,” he said, panting.

“It’s not that extreme, you lil’ fucker. And you’re panting like crazy, too.”

“You’re panting more than me,” he laughed. “Hey, by the way, where did Chubby go?”

“Uh… huh??”

I turned around to look behind me and didn’t see Chubby at all. His bag was there, but he himself was nowhere to be seen.

“Should we call him to see where he went?”

“He probably went to get water or buy a snack,” Justus said.

“Where?”

“That way to the right—go a bit further and there’s a store,” he pointed out of the court before turning back to me. “Do you want to rest for a bit? I think you’re more tired than me—you’ve been playing for a long time already.”

“Hmm. Yeah, okay.”

“I have a Gatorade in my bag, but it’s probably not cold anymore. You want it?”

“Sure, sure. I’m not picky.”

He smiled. “Really?”

“What? What’s with that face?” I tapped him on the head gently. “Despite my look, I’m pretty easygoing and certainly not picky.”

“And I did not say you were any of those,” he chuckled softly. His dimples showed. Damn it.

I tipped the bottle to drink, and he did the same. We sat quietly like that for a while. I didn’t know what to talk about. Sitting here alone like this, I suddenly felt embarrassed, and Chubby still hadn’t come back. If he were here, the atmosphere probably wouldn’t feel this tense.

“By now, my mom’s probably made something for us to eat already,” Justus said.

“Huh, what time is it?”

“It’s past twelve o’clock. Are you hungry?”

“I’m okay.”

Then we fell silent again.

“Oh, by the way, Marcus, how long have you been close with Chubby?”

“Since eighth grade. It has not been that long.”

“I think that’s a pretty damn long time to be good friends with someone. But if I’m not mistaken, it felt like you two were in the same class since seventh grade, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, but back then I wasn’t close with him right away since we were in different friend groups, classes and all. But you know, Chubby’s crazy—gets along with anyone. We spent a lot of time together, so we ended up getting close later.”

“Ohhh,” he nodded. “Come to think of it, you and I didn’t talk much either before—like back in tenth grade, or something.”

“‘Cause we hung out with different crowds. You were nerdy and quiet with good grades, while my dudes were more vicious and loud and crazy...”

“Nuh-uh. I’m not a quiet type at all. Anyway, I don’t see why that would ever be a barrier for us to be friends or talk.”

“You’re right. But back then I didn’t quite like you, you know,” I smiled at him.

“Ouch! Why though?”

“I don’t know. I thought you looked kinda smug—a well-behaved, rich boy. You were good at sports and academics. You were loved by your friends. I mean, come on. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Me? A smug kid from a rich family?” he laughed.

“I told you it was just in my prejudiced mind.”

“And now? What do you think of me?”

I was stunned. I was not prepared for that. “I don’t think of you that way anymore.”

“Then what do you think of me now?”

I turned to him, my eyebrows knotted into a bowtie. “You’re so persistent. Fine—I’ll say you’re a stubborn son of a bitch.”

He laughed again. “Then I’d say you’re the kind of person who does not frankly speak your mind.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Chubby told me about you.”

I knew it! That sorry-ass friend! I have no idea how much he's been telling Justus about me.

“But honestly, I kind of had that feeling for a long time already, so don’t blame him.”

“What? How?”

“I don’t know how to actually explain, but you kinda have a sharp tongue, so I assumed that you might not have been the most honest person in the room... I mean, in terms of speaking from the heart when if it makes you feel awkward, that is.”

“So I guess you also didn’t like me much either, huh?”

“Nope— not at all,” he shook his head, then went silent.

As we sat quietly again, I had time to recall how pissed off I was at first when I had to pair up with him in tennis class, and I tried to remember when exactly my feelings began to change. It was probably the first time we played as a pair in the evening when I saw that he had gotten much better. After that, I began to look at him with slightly different feelings, which may be because I’m the kind of person who likes people who show effort like that.

But that event still didn’t make me feel something special. It’s true that we became closer over time, but that didn’t mean I had to like him immediately.

There was one time when I arrived at school early to copy the homework, but none of my friends were there yet.

So, I decided to wait for them in the cafeteria. Then I saw Justus sitting alone. Because this homework was very important and it was the first period, I decided to walk toward him, sit with him, and blatantly ask for his homework to copy. I thought Justus would be possessive of his own work. To my surprise, he just put his hand in his backpack and handed me his notebook.

“Damn—your handwriting is terrible, Justus,” I said when I saw his script. “It looks like sick worms.”

“What are you talking about? Want to copy or not?” He smiled.

“Damn, your face is nice, but that handwriting is just terrible. Me, on the other hand, I have a good-looking face and good handwriting, too. My homework is always neat and clean…”

“Okay, stop right there. If you want my homework to copy, just shut up and do it, because if you don’t finish it in time, your sorry ass won’t last until the second period.”

“What? You dare insult me?”

“I was flattering your handwriting, right? You, Mr. Handsome,” he giggled.

I gave him a small smile, then took the notebook from my own bag and opened it. Several times I read his writing but could not really understand it. I had to ask him over and over what each word was, and I didn’t know whether it was bothering him a lot or what. Justus moved to sit on the side next to me instead, so I wouldn’t have to keep turning the notebook around, and he didn’t have to crouch over me so often either.

That must have been the moment when I really felt close to him for the first time.

“Hey, can I ask again? Is this supposed to be a 6 or an 8—or something entirely different?” I slid the notebook over to the side.

He leaned in to show me his own handwriting. “Ummm…”

“Hey, your handwriting—can’t you even read it anymore?” I asked.

“Shut the fuck up, you bastard. I’m just trying to make sure here,” he frowned, and then, because we were sitting so close together, I was a little taken aback by his small smile at the corner of his mouth, his dimple, and those sparkling brown eyes. I felt my face flush as I smiled and wavered at my own feelings.

I had always known that he was good-looking—or, I’d rather say, cute—but the bias I had had toward him back then was stronger, so I had never really observed or paid attention to him myself until now. But when I started opening up to him more, we began spending more time together, and I had to sit here next to him like this. I suddenly felt a light tremor of emotion.

“Dude, it’s number eight,” he said. “I’m sure.”

“Huh… what? Uh-huh, uh-huh,” I stuttered embarrassedly.

“So, are you going to have breakfast, Marcus?” Justus asked.

“Let me work on these papers first. Or I’ll never finish,” I said and continued flipping through my notebook.

“Then I’ll go buy something first, and I’ll be right back,” he rose to his feet and walked away.

I still felt a faint tremble inside—that was the first time I asked myself, “What the hell is wrong with you, Marcus, you bastard!”

Justus came back with a bowl of noodles and a Coke, left them on the table in front of me, and then vanished again. But this time he returned right away with another Coke in one hand and a bag of chopped watermelon in the other.

“Here, eat something light. Don’t skip a meal.”

“Hey, I’m okay. You didn’t need to…” I protested.

“I already bought them, and you can’t just not eat it, damn it. You like guava, don’t you?”

“Okay, MOM, I’ll eat. But I won’t pay,” I laughed.

“I already know that much,” he giggled.

I used a stick to pick a piece of chopped watermelon from the bag and put it in my mouth. “By the way, how do you know I like watermelon? I never told you, did I?”

“No, you didn’t. But I overheard your conversation some time ago.”

“And that’s all it takes for you to remember?”

He shrugged. “I just have a good memory, who knows?”

I hadn’t paid much attention back then because I was in a rush to finish my homework, but now that I’d returned and sat here, I recalled the old thing and clenched my emotions. I didn’t know whether it was just that he had a good memory or that he was interested in me, too. Either the words from Chubby, the words from his mother that morning, or even my own feelings that stemmed from Justus’s words made me feel like he had feelings for me… I could only hope that I wasn’t the only one thinking that way.

It’s so suffocating, this feeling. I’m genuinely terrified—terrified of my own heart, and also terrified of his feelings. I’m afraid that I might actually end up liking him. I mean… being one-sidedly infatuated with him is bad enough, but what if I end up loving him even more than this? What would happen then? Wouldn’t my heart just burst and kill me even more painfully? And what about his feelings? If he finds out I like him, but he doesn’t feel anything for me at all—aside from me facing humiliation, heartbreak, my knees buckling, my spirit breaking, and complete confusion—he himself would probably feel awful: shocked, sad, angry. Or worse still, would he end up hating me? And if he genuinely feels that way, I’d be hurt even more—face humiliated, heart broken, knees shattered, self utterly confused, magnified a hundredfold, plus getting wasted, ruining my grades, quitting sports, and even losing friends on top of it all.

All of those feelings just make me want to run away and disappear from him again.

“Oh—does Chubby have a girlfriend, Marcus?” Suddenly, Justus spoke after we’d been silent for a while, jolting me out of my reverie and making me realize he was sitting right beside me.

“Chubby? A girlfriend? Nope… not yet…” How could I ever say out loud that my friend is gay?

“And you don’t have one either, right?”

“Uh-huh…” I hesitated. “What about you?”

“No way. Who would be interested in someone like me?” He smiled and shook his head softly.

“Jesus, why do you think that?”

“I mean, I’m no looker. Seriously, Chubby—or you—you’re a hundred times better-looking than me, so if neither of you has a girlfriend yet, what chance do I have?”

“Dude, looks don’t matter,” Justus said. Even though he’d called me handsome before, I let that slide. I wanted to tell him it wasn’t true.

“And like you said, I’m quiet, aloof, a bit stuck-up—someone else would be turned off by that, right?” He shrugged.

“You overthink everything. I was just joking.”

He gave me a sideways smile. “You never said that.”

“Fine—I didn’t explicitly say, ‘I’m joking,’ but that was just me thinking out loud. Doesn’t mean you actually are like that. Besides, you’re nothing like what you just described.”

“Enough. I’ve never talked about this with anyone else,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Oh—what about Chubby and the others?” I asked.

“We’re close; we talk about all kinds of stuff, but not this mushy, lovey-dovey crap. I’m too shy.”

“Shy?” I laughed.

“Hey! If I liked someone, I’d be shy, too. I don’t have the courage to make the first move. I’d just admire them from afar.”

“Sounds like someone’s already got a crush,” I teased.

He waved me off. “No—well, maybe… but it’s not like that.”

My chest tightened. “Who is it?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“So they’re at school?”

“Our school only has guys, dude.”

“Right, right. I know. Just asking—since you’re not into guys.” I felt my annoyance spike.

“What about you? Don’t you have someone you like?”

“…Actually, I do.”

“Really? Who?”

“None of your business.” I snapped.

Justus looked hurt and turned away.

“Heyyyyyyy!!!” Chubby’s booming voice cut in.

“For Pete’s sake, Chubby—where the hell have you been?”

He strode over carrying bottles of water and a couple of sodas.

“I went to grab drinks. See? Still cold.”

“When did you disappear? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“ ’Cause you two were busy.”

“But now you’re pissing me off.” I hissed.

“All right, pick a drink. My treat.”

“I’ll hit the bathroom quick,” Justus said, jogging off.

Soooooo, how’s it going?” Chubby leaned in. “Alone time—getting any clarity?”

“Read the room—or at least read my face, Chubby.”

“What? What happened?”

“He already has someone he likes.”

“What? Who?”

“How would I know?”

“Wait—replay that. I asked if you know how you feel, not about Justus. Answer that.”

“I don’t know!” I snapped, my temper rising.

“Chicken.”

“What did you just call me?”

“Don’t use that tone with me. Setting Justus aside, you can’t even face your own feelings. That’s why you’re a big-ass chicken!”

“And how the fuck do you know I won’t accept myself?”

“Say it out loud: either you like Justus or you don’t.”

“I hesitated. ‘I… I…”

“You need a coin toss or drawing straws to decide?” Chubby teased.

“Shut up! OK, fine! I… I do like him, jeez! Happy?”

“Aaaannnd that’s all it takes,” Chubby shrugged, smirking. “But when you’re shy, you’re really cute, you know.”

“You son of a bitch!” I leapt to kick him, but he was too quick. I grabbed a handful of tennis balls and hurled them at him—he dodged every one, then snatched up a racket and smashed them right back at me, hard.

“Seriously, you two are friends?” Justus, back from the bathroom, laughed. “Every time I hang out with you, you fight.”

“Hey, Justus,” Chubby said. “Marcus told me you have a crush?”

I panicked. “Hey! Chubby!!”

“Huh? Me?” Justus fidgeted. “I mean—not exactly—but why?”

“Nothing,” Chubby lied. “And tell me, Justus—would you hate a gay friend?”

“What? Why would you ask that?” Justus blinked. I was stunned too.

“Just curious,” Chubby shrugged. “Our school’s all boys, so if your friend turned out to be gay, what then?”

“I wouldn’t care,” Justus said firmly. “He’s my friend. His orientation doesn’t change that. Love is love, right?”

“Shit, that’s a good answer,” Chubby nodded. “And what if that friend liked you?”

Justus paled. I was shaking.

“What are these questions about?” he asked. “Why now?”

“Just curious,” Chubby repeated. “I’m starving—let’s go eat.”

“You’re hungry already?” Justus asked. “You have just had some snack.”

“Yeah—plus it’s hot. My sunscreen’s worn off. I need AC for my delicate skin.”

We packed up and headed inside to lunch—spaghetti with Justus’s family, including his older brother. His brother was handsome, but I liked Justus more. Wait, what was I thinking?

After lunch we went to Justus’s room. No sooner had we sat than Chubby excused himself. Bathroom break—or so he claimed. I wondered if he wanted to leave me alone with Justus again.

Justus sat on the bed. “Why was Chubby grilling me at the courts?” he asked.

I flinched. “How would I know?”

“Marcus”

“What?”

“Have you ever liked anyone?”

“Uh… I’ve never—”

“Suppose you did—how would you handle it?”

“Handle it? I don’t know… maybe just say it and show how I feel?”

“Makes sense.”

“Why ask?” I frowned.

“Nothing” Justus scratched his head. “Probably because Chubby kept asking weird stuff, and it got into my head.”

I remembered his words in the library: “Back then you told me you weren’t gay… said it’d be fucked up if I liked you.” He’d met my eyes, puzzled and scared.

“At the library?” He asked.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

I felt my face burn. “Ugh, forget it. This is bullshit.”

He looked hurt. “So that’s why you were mad?”

“I… no…” I stopped. I wanted to run again—from him, from myself.

I was terrified: of my heart, of his answer. But if I was so afraid, how had Chubby come out so easily? Why push me to admit my feelings?

In the library that magazine read:
‘If you like someone, you’ve gotta be brave. You need to give first—only then they know to give back. And you have to tell them first, so they can respond.’

“You know, someone used to confess to me that they liked me?” I said.

He raised his head, surprised. “Really?”

“Yup, that person just flat-out told me they used to like me. If you were me, what would you do?”

“You’re being vague—are we talking a guy or a girl?”

“Doesn’t matter. I mean, suppose it’s your friend. Gender doesn’t enter into it.”

“Hmmm… honestly, I don’t think it makes a difference. But yes, I’d be surprised—I never thought I was anything special. Still, even if I couldn’t return those feelings, I’d want us to stay friends.” He shrugged, so typically Justus. “Better to be loved than hated. If I had a choice, I’d rather someone say, ‘I love you,’ than, ‘I hate you.’”

That was exactly him—kind, optimistic. No wonder I enjoyed talking with him.

“Even if it was your close friend?” I pressed.

“Sure. I already said it.”

“Hell, I could never be that good of a person…”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… I’m lousy with words. If I liked someone, I’d probably bolt. I wouldn’t act nice. I’d pretend I didn’t care, maybe not even look at them…” I mumbled so quietly it barely registered. I didn’t dare meet his eyes. I stared at the pillow in my lap. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to say how I feel. I do. It’s just—I’m terrified of rejection. Afraid of the answer. Afraid they already know and don’t care. I’m a mess.”

“Why do you think they wouldn’t know?”

“I don’t know—that’s exactly it. If they’ve shown no sign at all, how would you know what’s in their head? And if they told you flat-out they didn’t feel the same… isn’t that worse?”

“Maybe they’re waiting for you to make the first move, Marcus. It’s not just you who can be scared. We’re not so different.” Justus’s voice trailed off. He looked away.

My phone buzzed. A message from Chubby:

‘Hurry up with the confession and come get me downstairs, K? Kisses.’

I rolled my eyes, then chuckled. “Asshole.”

“What’s that?” Justus looked up.

“Nothing.” I set the phone down and drew a deep breath. “Just… a hypothetical. Assume I told you I liked you—what would you do? How would you feel?”

He hesitated, and I thought I saw his cheeks redden.

“I don’t think you’d ask that if you weren’t serious,” he said quietly.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I spun away. “It really was just hypothetical, dammit”

“Okay. If you really said it… I’d… I’d do nothing, because what would you expect me to do?”

“You wouldn’t be uncomfortable? Angry? Disgusted?”

“No. Why would I be?”

“And… could you ever like someone like me?”

“I… I don’t know, Marcus. That’s a tough question.”

My face burned. I was sweating. My hands shook; my throat was dry. I felt dizzy.

“What if I stop saying ‘hypothetical’?” I whispered.

He went deadly quiet. The hum of the air conditioner filled the room, and my heartbeat thundered in my ears.

“Marcus…” His voice broke the silence, and I jumped.

“Is it just me, or is it hot in here?” I blurted out, stumbling off the bed. “What the hell is Chubby doing? Probably drowning in the bathroom! I’ll go get him.”

“Wait!” Justus grabbed my wrist.

I froze. His hand on mine felt electric—two guys holding hands like this?

“Come back and sit,” he said, pulling me gently onto the bed. “…I know it’s scary. I’m scared, too. But if you really meant it, I wouldn’t mind.” He still wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“What do you mean, ‘I wouldn’t mind’?” I whispered.

“You know… when you said it wasn’t just a hypothetical.”

“My—what did you say?”

“When you said, ‘Imagine I liked you, but…’” His voice trailed off.

“And then?”

He fell silent again, then exploded: “Jesus fucking Christ! Stop asking so many questions! I’m embarrassed, okay?” He grabbed a pillow and flung it at my face.

I blocked the pillow with my arms and sent it thudding to the floor. For a moment, it was just the two of us—so close, face to face, for the first time since Chubby left.

“If I didn’t assume that I like you…” I began. Part of me wanted to drop my eyes, but another part insisted I stay in his orbit. I forced myself to meet his beautiful brown gaze. “But if I told you I really like you… would you be mad at me? Am I totally misunderstanding all of this?”

Justus lowered his head for a moment, then met my eyes again. “If I were going to be mad at you, it’d be because you never told me sooner, you doofus. You let me worry and be scared this whole time.”

I froze, stunned. Embarrassment made me look away—this couldn’t be real, right?

“I—I’m sorry, I mean I…” I trailed off, unsure how to continue.

“Do you remember when I read you that part about Aries and then never finished the last bit?” he asked. “Do you know what it actually says at the end?”

I squinted at him, still confused.

“It says that if someone’s going to love an Aries, they have to be calm and steady—match their every mood perfectly. Otherwise, they’ll get bored. Something like that.”

“But you said back then you didn’t really care and probably wouldn’t remember, right?”

“But that’s your sign. How could I not care?” he replied, suddenly shy.

“So does that mean… you… you like me, Justus?”

He shifted, pulling his knees up, then looked down. “Uh-huh…” His voice was so soft I barely heard it.

“Then why didn’t you tell me sooner, or at least give me a sign, damn it!?” I burst out.

“Hey, asshole! You were supposed to tell me first that you liked me! But you never had the balls,” he shot back, finally glancing up at me.

“What? Who said I like you? I never said anything!” I denied it.

“Again with that, damn it! You big baby!” His leg shot out, playfully aiming at me.

I caught his ankle and lunged forward, pulling him into a tight hug—my heart pounding so hard I thought it might explode. I felt too good to let him go.

I was so nervous I was trembling all over, my lips quivering—but at least he couldn’t see my face this close.

“Stay still. I’m freaking shy right now,” I whispered into his ear. “Just let me say this…”

Justus stayed silent, patiently waiting.

I took a deep breath and finally let out the words I’d held inside for so long:

“I like you, Justus. Thank you for letting me say it.”

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