"Coming Out"

"Yes!" Logan squealed excitedly, "Road trip!" As always, there was something about him that captured my gaze, movements splayed and gratified to ensure that I wouldn't look away. And, as always, I found myself hating both my brain and heart because to anyone who wasn't (oblivious, stupidly-cute) Logan, the fondness in my eyes would have probably given everything away. And there was nothing I could do to change that fondness, because it had only grown as I got to know him. This was Logan, stupid, endearing, hard-headed Logan. My best friend Logan-

My heart sank in my chest, maybe always just my best friend.

A couple of excited gestures and noises later, Logan stopped, letting out a breathy laugh as he made himself comfortable in the passenger seat of my Range Rover (which he still loved, thank you very much). He placed his hands over his knees, leaning forward to catch my eyes and grinning widely at me. Like the 5-star actor I am, I sent him my own cheeky smile before ultimately scolding myself into paying attention to the road. Harming, or killing Logan definitely wasn't on my bucket list (yet, we still haven't gotten to that annoying-phase in our friendship).

"Remember," I began, waiting until he hummed in acknowledgement and leaned over the middle compartment. "No girls in our dorm room, no matter what."

It was a simple rule, even I could follow it.

Logan scoffed at the reminder, waving his hand nonchalantly in my direction. "Trust me, Tripp. There is nothing I would rather do than spend all of my time with you." He sighed dramatically. "Every day. All day. Probably until the day I die, because - I mean, our degrees will take forever to complete."

As he finished, he looked out the window, enjoying the scenery we were passing and giving me the perfect opportunity to convulse (controledly) in my seat. Because did I hear that right? Was that a confession? A shake to my head, of course not. Fuck Tripp, get a hold of yourself. You should be used to these types of comments to Logans types of comments. So why did they still make me cry internally at the small proposition of hope?

"Yeah right," I scoffed, hands clenching on the leather around my steering wheel. Logan gasped, faux offense as he turned his attention back to me, eyes wide and lips puffed.

"I'm serious though," He whispered softly. The air between us shifted in a second, filling with something indescribable. From the corner of my eye I saw him shifting in his seat, the inner-me begged me to look at him, but before I could, the moment was stolen. The lyrics to his favorite song filled the atmosphere and it was enough to have Logan reaching forward to raise the volume, pumping his head to the beat.

I took that chance to steal a quick glance, biting down harshly on my bottom lip when I noticed a pretty blush on his cheeks. Holy fuck, how adorable. I snapped my attention back over to the road, thinking about what we had done last night.

To my knowledge; Logan was drunk. And from our interactions this morning, he didn't remember anything. Or. . . did he? If he did, why didn't he say anything? Why would he keep that to himself? An internal groan, why am I keeping it to myself? Either way, was there still a possibility of him being aware of what was going on? Of what we were doing?

Before last night, we had never gotten close enough to kiss. Every time our faces were centimeters away Logan was quick to look away, change the topic, or come up with a lame excuse to move away from me. Yet, last night, it was the opposite. Obviously, that was probably due to the influence of alcohol more than anything else. But if he did remember, did he discard it? And if he didn't, would he hate me?

"Hey," Logan snipped, nudging at my shoulder and making me hum in acknowledgement. "Sing along with be, dumbass."

His head tilted to the side, locks falling over his forehead. I smiled softly, tilting my head to the side. "I don't think so."

An offended gasp, "I knew you never actually cared for me. Pretend-best friend huh?" I hummed, tilting my head upwards to raise my nose, letting him know that I wasn't changing my mind. He groaned in annoyance, "Tripp, come on! We love this band. Sing with me, p-wea-easee?"

Stay Tripp, the love of your life pouting at you ain't nothing. (Fuck, mental restraints are tough).

"Fine," He sighed. "What do you want, spill it you fake friend?"

I hummed, "A kiss."

In all honesty (before anyone attacks me), I didn't think he would do it. I have asked him to do it many times before and he would always shove me down any nearby stairs, claiming that his kisses were only reserved for his bed-mates. So imagine my (absolute) surprise when his warm, calloused hand grips my chin, tugging me his way as he presses a kiss against my cheek.

God absolutely hates me.

I coughed as he pulled away, sending him a tight smile as I kept my end of the deal and started singing along with him. However, it didn't take long for me to stray off the path of the lyrics, thoughts of Logan and me consuming me slowly. My life would completely suck without him. It wouldn't be too bad if Logan weren't the only person that I had come to actually like for the past four years. During my junior and senior year I experimented with other guys, seeing if there was a possibility of me liking someone else romantically.

It was all for naught because all of my thoughts found their way back to Logan and his pea-bean smile. But what would happen once he started dating again? What if someone at college did manage to capture my attention? What if he found out I was gay? Would he believe that's reason enough to stop being friends with me.

"Tripp?" Logan asked, tugging on my shirt to snap me out of my thoughts. "What's wrong? Something on your mind? I've told you thinking is a dangerous task for you."

I shoved him softly, laughing under my breath. "Shut up!"

He giggled and I knew I was being stupid because Logan wasn't like that. He was still the same person I had (faithfully) met on a game night. The guy that judges people based on their personalities and their actions, sexualities, morals, and beliefs didn't come into that. But it scared me. It is scary. I'm scared. Because the possibility of him treating me differently for never trusting him enough to tell him is always there, weighing on my shoulders.

"Nothings wrong," I sighed out after a couple of seconds of silence. "Just, do you remember anything about last night?"

"Last night?" Cute eyebrow furrow. "Uh. Just that I got drunk, then you asked what we wanted to do, then. . . I woke up next to you? Like always. I'm guessing we got off while watching one-on-ones." He shrugged but the action didn't hide the flush that formed on his cheeks and neck.

Relief flooded me and I wanted to punch myself. Sick, I was sick.

"Ah, nothings wrong." I re-stated firmly, sending a reassuring smile his way. "I just hope we can get there early enough to unpack and get settled in before classes start." I said, making him jump in his seat as he agreed with me

The next few hours were the closest I might come to heaven as me and Logan sunk back into our usual (comfortable) conversations. He eventually got tired, whining softly as he cursed at the anatomy of the car, huffing because he wanted to cuddle. I quickly came up with a solution, tugging off my sweater and handing it to him. Logan grinned, tugging it on and reclining the seat back to get comfortable.

He fell asleep quickly, leaving me with my dangerous thoughts of self-realization. Would it be best to tell Logan that I am gay? My skin tingled uncomfortably at the thought. It would be the right thing to do, he had been by my side for four years and he had never given me a reason not to trust him. What was different now? That I liked him?

I huffed, deciding to go through a drive-through of a nearby fast-food, internally sighing as the plan to get to the dorm early to unpack was thrown out the window. Logan jolted next to me, snapping awake with a long sniff, "I smell hamburgers."

I smiled at him as I parked in a nearby gas station, handing him his food and getting comfortable in my seat.

"Hey Logan," He hummed as he bit into his hamburger, twisting himself in the passenger seat so he could face me. I sucked in a breath, it's now or never. "There's something I have to tell you before we get to the dorms."

Green eyes studied me, narrowing slightly. "Okay, I'm all ears."

There was a part of me that wanted to tell him everything. That wanted to spill out to him that I am (not only) gay, but also that he had been my crush for the past four years and that even if he didn't reciprocate my feelings, that I hoped he could still remain my friend. But instead something entirely different came out. Albeit, something that shouldn't be any easier to deal with, I just dug the hole deeper by doing this, but I couldn't take it back.

The words left me and Logan blinked, back straightening as his mouth parted, as if he didn't believe me. "You're bisexual?"

I cringed. Not really, , but, ugh, screw my insecurities. I nodded as a response, not trusting my voice.

"Okay." That's it? Too easy.

"That's it? No questions? Like why I never told you or—," Logan let out a small laugh, shaking his head as he placed his hamburger down on his thigh.

"Tripp, I've never forced you to tell me something you didn't want to tell me. Sure, I'm annoying at times but I never strived to make you uncomfortable. I have a gay brother, and despite always being there for each other he didn't tell me until our second year of high school. I might not know why you kept it from me but I understand that it's hard to 'come out' to people, especially those closest to you. Now, it's all a matter of thanking you for feeling comfortable enough to tell me." I hated that I loved him because every time words such as that left his lips I simply forgot that fact and fell further down the Logan-centered hole.

"Do you still want to share the dorm with me?"

Logan's eyes widened for a second before he glared at me, his jaw clenching tightly. "What? What kind of stupid question is that, Tripp? Of course I want to share the dorm with you. You being bisexual doesn't change anything, you're still you and I like you for you." It felt like another confession but I knew him enough to know that that was simply another one of his types of comments.

"I'd hug you but I'd squish your hamburger."

"I'd kill you if you squished my hamburger." I let out a laugh, resuming eating and ignoring the relief and newfound guilt that settled at the pit of my stomach.