Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 8

me out with that shit it won't work. Remember Stef?"
    "Your girlfriend Stephanie?"
    "My boyfriend Stefan. I'm bi. There've been times I liked a dick in my mouth too. Or vice versa."
    Trey was on his feet before he even realized he'd moved. "What about Linda?" He could hear the acid in his own voice. "Let me guess. Luke, right?"
    "No," Josh said steadily. "She was Linda. Like I said, I'm bi. I like girls and guys. Although Stefan was perhaps the closest I've ever been to getting serious, if I hadn't kind of realized that the guy was willing and eager to fuck every man who walked by."
    "I have to go." Trey whirled to put his back to Josh.
    "Trey?"
    "I have to go," he repeated. He needed to get down out of this dark airless loft and go... go somewhere. Somewhere the ground would feel solid under his feet again. "Back," he muttered. "Okay." He gritted his teeth. Fucking ironic that he'd got As in every English class, but when it counted he couldn't string two words together. "I'll be back." Somehow his hands found the top of the ladder, his feet fumbled their way onto the rungs. He went down in almost a controlled fall, hitting the floor of the barn below hard enough to jolt his knees. He was startled by the force of it, unexpectedly real when the world around him felt tenuous and disconnected. It was good, though. This at least was solid– this floor and the afternoon sun and the alpaca outside the window staring in at him through the smudged panes of glass with that perfect look of disdain.
    Trey dusted himself off with rough movements of his hands. He took a deep breath and patted his pockets. Wallet, yes. Keys, thank God. And he was no longer crying too hard to drive. He stepped out of the barn door into the sunshine.
    ****
    Josh stared across the shadowed loft after Trey. What the hell had just happened? He heard a car start and held his breath as it drove away. At least there hadn't been time for Trey to pack up his stuff before peeling out like his ass was on fire. He'd have to come back for his clothes. Unless he just asked Josh to ship them to him.
    Josh restrained his immediate impulse to leap up and go after Trey again. Even he wasn't crazy enough to think that was a good idea. What he didn't get was why Trey had run. When he'd heard Trey say he was gay, Josh's heart had fucking leapt in his chest. Sure, they'd had to clear up the old misunderstanding, but as he'd approached the barn he'd imagined telling Trey he was bi himself and then... Well, he wasn't sure what he'd thought came next but it had been more like a hug or maybe kisses than the bludgeoned look he'd seen on Trey's face.
    Josh began to feel a little pissed. Trey wasn't the only one outing himself here, after all. And Trey's family would be okay with it whereas his own... he shuddered at the thought. Whatever the exact opposite of okay was, that would be his parents. But he would do it. After these few days with Trey, he knew he would do it in a heartbeat, if it meant keeping Trey close.
    So why had Trey reacted like Josh being bi was some kind of slap in the face? It wasn't like Trey hadn't censored things too, in their sporadic emails. Josh distinctly remembered the man rhapsodizing over an Amy and a Christine, and now he was betting those had been Adam and Chris, or Andrew and Charles. Josh remembered having spent what in retrospect seemed like an awful lot of time wondering about those apparently mythical girls, and what they were like, and if they were good enough for Trey.
    So Trey had no fucking right to get huffy about Stefan. Or any of it.
    Josh scooted closer to the crack of the loft door, hoping for a little breeze to cool his overheated face. Maybe his overheated brain. He checked his cell phone but there was no text waiting, no missed calls. He leaned his head against the frame and pushed the door wider. The faded green of the pasture below him stretched to the scraggly trees that framed it. The goats were little heaps of white and brown, sprawled out snoozing in the heat under the one big maple. The whole scene had a nagging familiarity, pulling him in, making him feel like he belonged here in this dry and pastoral landscape instead of the green and bustling city where he really lived.
    One of the barn cats came up the ladder, her paws almost silent on the rungs. She made her way over to him, walking a circuitous route and sniffing here and there, so as to maintain her dignity and not seem eager. But when she reached him she rubbed