Just a Question of Love - part 35

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Gay and Lesbian  |  House: Booksie Classic
Owen and Matt both make tough decisions - will they regret them?

Submitted: December 12, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 12, 2008



“…and last but not least, prom. You heard me, Waverly High: prom. Tickets are only on sale for two more days! Make your last year one to remember! Tickets only $50 per person, or $75 if you’re planning on taking your honey.”

The announcements over the P.A. system mock me. Ever since I got together with Matt, the issue of prom was in the back of my mind. Would we go? Should I ask him? Prom is two days after our one month anniversary…it seems like a good idea to me. Walking down the hall, I see him leaning against his locker, talking to a new friend of his. Annie: Gwen Stefani blond hair, bright green eyes, cheerleader body. Lesbian.

I’m relieved when I see her walk away from him, just before I draw near. I scurry over to him, putting my hands over his eyes before he sees me. “Guess who.”

“Are you hot?” he asks, putting his hands over mine.


“Mmm… Leonardo DiCaprio?”

I take my hands off his eyes. “You think he’s hot?” Matt laughs and turns around.

“Not as hot as you,” he replies, running his hand from my wrist to my elbow, leaning an icy trail. He’s always as cold as ice, even on a warm June morning such as this.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he says as he turns to his locker, grabbing various things he needs for class.

I grab his wrist - outstretched to get a notebook. He stops what he’s doing and gives me his full attention. I keep my grip on his wrist for a few seconds more, feeling his pulse points jump under my gentle pressure. I run my fingers over the blue lines barely hidden by the white flesh of his wrist, to his palm before finally entwining our fingers. I look up and see he’s smiling at me, amused.

“You wanted to ask me something?” he prompts.

“Yeah. Um, do you…want to go to prom with me?”

His smile falters and a look of guilt creeps over his face. “What?” I ask.

He cringes, looking guilty and embarrassed. Shit, shit, shit. “I… I kind of gave up on you asking me, a few days ago.” What? “And… so I figured if you weren’t going to ask me, I might as well do something else.” He looks up at me, his eyebrows drawn down into frowns. “So… the band has a gig that night. But I can cancel if you want.”

It never occurred to me he was waiting for me to ask him. It never occurred to me he even wanted to go. It never occurred to me that he would have other plans. How could I be so stupid?

I want to tell him, yes, he has to cancel the gig. That I want to share prom with him, make it something special. But all I can say is,“Nah, it’s okay.” The two orange tickets I had purchased that afternoon start to burn a hole into my pocket. The images of the two of us, dapper in our tuxedos, vanished before my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Owen. Really. But, I still think you should go,” he tells me. His expression brightens. “Don‘t make plans for three days from now, okay?” Our ’month-adversary’. “I want to spend as much time with you as I can before you up and leave for two months.”

Last night, when I asked him about LaBranche, he told me he wanted me to go. I hadn’t understood; why would he want me to go away for two months? I had asked him just that. Though he‘d never told me he loved me, his response told me everything I needed to hear: “Sometimes when you care about someone, you have to put their needs first.”

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