The Rebuilding Year by Kaje Harper

let’s order pizza, and they’d be good. Ryan hoped.
    Embryology droned on. His classmates snored. Ryan’s brain ran round in circles, imagining scenarios, wondering what John would do, would say. Sometimes in his imagination, John tried to kiss him again. Ryan shied violently away from the picture that made, back to the beginning again. Go in the door, say, John, I’m really glad we’re friends but…
    By the time he walked in the actual front door, he’d reworked his speech a dozen times. Two dozen. Because he wanted to do this right. He didn’t want to hurt John’s feelings or make him feel bad. But he had to put on the brakes, unmistakably.
    John was in the kitchen, playing with a plate of microwave glop. He looked up as Ryan came in. “Hi.”
    “Hey, John.” Ryan slid into the other seat and stretched his aching leg out. Just say it.
    Before he could get the first word out, John said, “I wanted to talk to you about this morning. Because it was weird. I don’t know what happened. I mean, I’m not gay, and you’re not either. I guess we just… When you talk about tough stuff like that you want someone to hold on to, to make it feel better. And there we were, and no one else was available. So…that happened. And it was my fault. But I want to go back to being friends, okay?”
    Ryan blinked. He cribbed my speech. “Yeah. I mean, I want that too.”
    “I really hope I didn’t make you think about moving out. I hate living alone. I mean, if the alternative is living with you. I like having you living here and I’d hate to see you leave. I’ve never been interested in guys, and I won’t do anything like that again. I hope I didn’t freak you out too much.”
    “No,” Ryan said slowly. “I don’t want to leave.”
    “Good,” John said firmly. “I mean, are we good now?”
    “Sure. We’re fine.”
    John stood up abruptly, dumped his plate in the sink, and then stuck it in the dishwasher. “Great. I have some work to do, so I’m going to go and…work.”
    Ryan was left staring at his retreating back. He wasn’t sure why he felt slightly let down. Clearly they were on the same page. Things were back to normal. So why was he disappointed that his wonderful speech letting John down gently hadn’t had to be uttered?  

Chapter Seven
     
    Ryan found himself looking at everyone on campus differently. Two guys would come into class together, hair ruffled by the wind, and he would wonder if there was anything there except friendship. He found himself looking at the women, trailing his gaze over butts and boobs, checking his level of interest like some weird sex-o-meter. And it was a relief every time a woman’s body caused his hormones to rise. And yet it was all hypothetical, like yeah, big tits still turn me on. He had no interest at all in taking it beyond a glance. He didn’t want to flirt with the women. He certainly didn’t want to get mixed up with dating one.
    Dating was a hassle anyway, the small talk, the adaptations you had to make to fit someone else into your routines. Women expected conversation, and flowers and attention. You couldn’t grunt at them that you were busy and expect to get by without a hurt look and a pout. They were soft and they smelled good, but they were work.
    He found himself looking at men too. He’d never done that before. He’d never bothered to check out whether a guy had big arms or a tight butt. He was only doing it now to confirm that he really had no interest in such things. And he didn’t. His body didn’t react to the cute young guys around him. So he wasn’t gay.
    But he still kept catching himself looking, thinking that this one wasn’t as muscled up as John, or that one didn’t move with the same grace. It was like probing the space where a tooth had been pulled. He knew it wasn’t there, but he kept testing his reactions, kept pulling up images of John next to these guys. And remembering that kiss.
    Talk about zero to sixty in two seconds