A half hour later, when Bevin and I were done making out, we chatted awkwardly. I brushed a stray curl out of her eyes. She tolerated my touch, but was tense. I could tell. I know her so well.
"I think I love you," I said.
"You don't love me, Brian. This is not love."
"How can you judge my love? How can you tell me how I feel? How can you know the depth of my feeling? How can that happen?"
"Look, this has been nice, Brian. It was great. You were great. But it was just a moment we shared. " She punched me playfully in the shoulder. "You're a nice, beautiful, sweet boy. But I have to go. I have an appointment or something. I have to go."
"It's ten thirty. It's night time. What appointment?"
"I have to get my dog to the vet. An after hours vet."
"You don't have a dog."
She turned and looked at me. There was anger in her eyes. "How do you know that? Are you following me? Spying on me?"
"No. Nothging like that."
"Listen, Brian, I have to go." She picked up her things and headed for the door. "Stay away from me. I don't need another Fatal Attraction thing. I know how to get a restraining order. Stay away from me."
The door swung shut. I only cried a little.
Bevin should be careful. It may work with straight boys, but sometimes gay boys are just like fourteen year old girls. Right Wesley?
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