Free Trust the Focus by Megan Erickson Page A

matter what I did, we couldn’t go back anymore. This moment would determine if we slapped a Band-Aid on our relationship or overhauled the whole thing.
    “Move out of the way so I can get my things.” Landry said, body stiff against Sally.
    I straightened and stepped up to him, preventing him from moving. “What?”
    He pushed my shoulder but I held my ground, which only seemed to make him angrier. He pushed again. “Move. I need to pack and leave. I’m over this bullshit. I’m over
your
bullshit.”
    My brain switched into panic mode. The last couple of days I’d taken his head off at every opportunity, but now I had to do everything I could to keep him with me.
    “I’m sorry I said that—”
    “I’m sure you’re sorry, but I don’t give a shit right now,” he shot back, his strong voice carrying an undercurrent of vulnerability.
    I took a deep breath as a tear slid over his cheekbone and knew I needed to come clean, to get my blood moving in my veins and my heart beating again. It was that moment, at the top of the roller coaster all over again, but this was an indefinite pause as we teetered. Gravity pulled at my spine, trying to yank me back down the hill, but I fought and clawed to get to the crest.
    My breath came in pants. I opened my mouth but nothing came out, and Landry made a step to walk away.
    “Stop, please, I’m trying to tell you something,” I pleaded.
    But he was in flight mode, bobbing on his toes, rolling his wrists, his face and neck flushed red. He was gone, far gone, and I wondered if I still had the magic to bring him back. “Fuck off, asshole,” he snarled. “I—”
    I shot my left arm out and grabbed his hair, forcing our foreheads together and clamping my other hand on his neck, keeping him grounded and his focus on me.
    He struggled a little in my hold, his lips trembling, nostrils flaring. But those blue eyes locked on mine, flashing anger and maybe a little bit of hope.
    I licked my lips and tried again, blood pounding in my ears, sweat and fear dripping down my back, soaking into my waistband. “I’m like you.”
    His face blanked, like someone had ripped his cord out of the wall. If it wasn’t for his blinking eyes, I might have checked for a pulse. But he’d stopped rocking on his toes and his hands were still, clenched at his sides.
    “I’m like you,” I repeated.
    His chest rose and fell inches from mine. I wanted to press closer, feel his heartbeat sync with mine, and at the same time, run in the other direction so I’d never know how well we’d harmonize.
    “You’re like me how? What are you talking about?” His voice was wary, nostrils flared like a cornered animal.
    We both like guys
. But the liquid fear drenching my shirt held me back from voicing the words. “No Landry, I’m . . .” My voice left me in a whoosh. Wouldn’t he just finish the sentence for me?
    He shook his head, slowly at first, then gaining speed until he chanted. “No. No, no, no.”
    “Yes.” My voice was a plea.
    But Landry, he never made anything easy on me. His breath, so hot on my face. The cords in his neck strained. “Justin, this isn’t a time to play around, I need you to spell this out for me. And if you can’t say out loud what I think you’re saying, I’m getting on a bus and going home right now.”
    Fuck. Fucking fuck. I’d never said it out loud. I’m not even sure I ever said the words in my head. But I needed to. I was a twenty-two-year-old man. Time to act like one. Own up.
    I took a deep breath, and I willed that roller coaster over the crest. “I’m gay.”
    Those two words, so simple yet so foreign, were said in another voice. They came from my body, but directly from my heart, from the very essence of me.
    Landry’s legs buckled, and I caught him with an arm around his waist and hauled him to my chest. I pressed his face against the side of mine and both his arms wrapped around my ribs, his hands curling into my upper back. I clung to him