Sure, to the outsiders we were probably fucking weirdos for jumping up and down, screaming our heads off. However, we didn’t give a rat’s ass, because my roommate, Britt Thomas, had just gotten a signed deal with a record company.
In the middle of our jumping up and down, screaming like girls… well, because obviously we were, Britt stopped bouncing and I realized the twinkle was gone from her energetic eyes.
Stopping with her, I looked down and noticed tears forming and her eyes kind of reminded me of the ocean—with the clear blue water and the fact that her tears would taste like salt. I really want some Salt n’ Vinegar chips right now.
Tilting my head, I asked, “What’s the matter, babe?”
Sniffing, she wrapped her tiny little arms around my waist and began to cry. I didn’t understand where the hell this Britt rainstorm had come from all of a sudden. I mean, I didn’t remember hearing about it on the internet or the news. Maybe I should have checked Twitter or Facebook?
I kind of felt a little awkward. I always hated seeing other people cry and I hadn’t cried since I said goodbye to Momma when I was younger. Shaking those memories from my thoughts, I rested my chin on her head and rubbed my hands up and down her back. She buried her face in my shirt and I just let out a breath.
I knew for the love of all that was Lady Gaga and her little monsters that this bitch was going to get mascara all over the brand new limited t-shirt I had just gotten from the mall.
Ugh, well, good thing I got it in every color available, I guess.
Burying her head a little deeper into my chest, I heard her sniffle. Quickly swiping the handkerchief from my pocket square, I nuzzled its way to her face so she could blow.
Grabbing my hands and muttering something that sounded like a thank you, I said, “No problem, babe.”
Standing there for a few minutes, I thought about how in the hell I was going to be able to get the mascara stain from my t-shirt. I mean, I ain’t no Houdini, but I definitely would need to work my magic on this shit.
The t-shirt was fucking awesome. It was green, and everybody who knows me knows that it’s my favorite color. There’s a design going up the front with swirly thingamajigs and a fucking pocket square. I mean that screams, “BOSS!” Or muh name. Whichever is coolio with yours truly.
Lifting her head from my chest, Britt looked up into my eyes and started to bite her lower lip. Placing my hands on her cheeks, I used my thumbs and wiped away the mascara. Every single time I wiped, I felt my heart break just a little more. Not only for the fact that my best friend and awesome roommate was crying… but also because I had literally just spent $50 on a fucking-a t-shirt that I would be forced by Diane Von Furstenberg and Betsey Johnson with scissors to throw away.
“Babe?”
I watched how she scrunched her nose and her chin quivered. I watched how she bit on her lower lip and my heart broke. It shattered and I knew it would be a struggle to put the pieces back together. But like Momma said, “I want you to struggle.”
Taking a deep breath, she hiccupped and said, “I have to move to L.A.”
Dropping my head, I let out a breath. I didn’t want to let her go. I was tired of having to lose the most important people in my life. I mean, I still had Grandma and Grandpa, and they were my everything, but Britt was the first person I told my secret to. I knew she would love me either way. I remember the conversation exactly.
***
Sitting on her parents’ couch with our cowboy hats on, we were watching the country music awards. They just showed the scenes for what was going to happen after the commercials and I could feel my heart beating. Not only was I nervous as hairy ball sacs to tell Britt, but my heart was also beating because the gorgeous, sexy, scruffy Jake Owens was going to be performing.
I could already feel my dick twitching with excitement to see his muscles on the HD screen.
Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas for the High Definition! Thank the almighty who ever invented it in the first place!
Untangling myself from behind Britt, I sat up on the couch. Cracking my neck, I grabbed my glass of orange juice from the coffee table and took a healthy sip. I watched as Britt picked up a tortilla chip in her hand and dunked it in the salsa. She balanced a few tomato chunks on the chip and popped it in her mouth.
Okay, this is it.
Taking one more sip of my orange juice, I swallowed and said, “I’m gay.”
By that time the award show had come back on and Luke Bryan was introducing Jake Owens for his performance.
I watched, stunned, as Britt grabbed another chip and dunked it into the salsa. Getting just enough tomato on her chip, Britt put it in her mouth. Munching away on her chip, Britt never took her eyes off of the television when she asked, “So who do you think is hotter? Luke Bryan or Jake Owens?”
Looking at my best friend with her eyes glued to the TV, I smiled and felt tears forming in my eyes. This was Britt, and if I questioned our friendship whatsoever, I didn’t have to after this moment.