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I blink at him in utter disbelief.

“Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Forget it. It’s stupid of me to think that you’d want to keep⁠—”

“I do. I want to keep doing this.”

Another one of those self-deprecating laughs spills from his lips, and I hate it.

I hate that he’s questioning his worth.

“But I can’t give you what you deserve. I can’t take you out, can’t show you off, can’t claim you in the way you should be.”

“Who says I want all that? My life is a mess right now. What makes you think I can offer you anything either?”

“You can offer a hell of a lot more than I can. You’re…you.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that you know what you want in life and you’re not afraid to show the world exactly who you are. I’m nothing but a pussy who’d rather hide in the shadows.”

“Protecting yourself doesn’t make you a pussy. There’s no timeline for when we’re meant to show the world who we really are. Your time hasn’t come yet, but one day, it will.”

“Will it?”

“Yeah,” I tell him confidently. “I can’t tell you that it won’t be scary or come without backlash, but when the time is right, you will have people who support you, and you will realize that you made the right decision.”

He sighs. It’s heavy and full of unknowns and fear.

“One day,” I promise him.

He nods, but I’m not sure he believes it as he finally turns back toward his dinner, leaving me in disbelief that that conversation just happened.

35

GARRETT

RoughingTheModel: Hey stranger. How are you?

The sight of Cooper’s alter-ego’s name has my heart jumping into my throat.

Our messages have become fewer and fewer recently. I’m fully aware of the reason, but he isn’t.

I’ve loved that he didn’t immediately start messaging his mystery online man after confessing to me that he didn’t want to stop what we were doing.

A couple of times over the last few days, I’ve considered being the first to reach out. But despite typing out a few messages, I’ve never hit that send button.

I was terrified that he might dive straight back into the sexting.

Despite us not agreeing that we’d be exclusive, or that we’re even dating, the thought of him hooking up with another man online—even if it is me—makes something rise up in me that I’ve never felt before.

Jealousy.

The tight knot in my stomach can’t be anything else.

My hand trembles as my thumb hovers over my keyboard, ready to reply.

Don’t be a pussy. Just talk to him.

HotScore: Hey, I’m good. How are you?