Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Adam Richardsen: We know what the people really want.
Chase Blau: I’m sitting at home trying and failing to paint a watercolor of a zebra, so your afternoon sounds better than mine.
Adam Richardsen: Isn’t a watercolor of a zebra just black and white?
Chase Blau: Oh, Adam. You have no idea the type of zebra I’m trying to paint.
Adam Richardsen: A special zebra, huh?
Chase Blau: A gay zebra. A really, really gay one.
A picture followed shortly after, and I saw what Chase meant. It wasn’t just your average zebra, it was a rainbow technicolor one, and the outline was very detailed underneath the explosion of vivid color.
I snorted a laugh, shifting on my lounge chair and tapping out another text.
Adam Richardsen: He’s beautiful. And honestly, Chase, you’re insanely talented. How can you call that painting a failure?
Chase Blau: Zebra just doesn’t look gay enough.
I laughed again, smiling at my phone like a fool.
Adam Richardsen: Well, I think it’s great. I’d hang it on my wall.
Chase Blau: I’m half kidding. I do like the lil zebra, so far. But I need a break from painting, and now I’m restless. Such is life.
I stared at the text for a minute, then two minutes, then five. An evening breeze rolled through my yard, tossing my hair to one side.
My heart beat a little harder as I contemplated how to reply to his text. But the stupid online social advice still rang out through my head, over and over.
Tell people when you’re thinking about them.
I’d spent a lifetime being timid, shy, and fearful. And where had it gotten me? Taking social risks with Chase had been the single best thing I’d ever done for myself, and I thought of an even better piece of advice that spurred me on: What Would Chase Do?
I knew what Chase would do.
He wouldn’t hesitate. He’d tell me to do whatever the fuck I wanted to do, and do it proudly. I was able to do it last night, so why couldn’t I keep doing it now?
I tapped out another text to him, pushing past the pounding of my heart.
Adam Richardsen: Well, I happen to have all the makings for s’mores and a very comfortable couch, if you want to come over and get rid of your boredom.
It was so far out of my comfort zone. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d extended an invitation for someone to casually come over. It was such a simple thing for so many people, but for me, it was huge.
I was sure Chase would say no. But I’d asked.
When my phone buzzed again, something leapt in my throat.
Chase Blau: S’mores… salsa?
I laughed so hard, relieving any tension that had built up.
Adam Richardsen: I hate you. Not s’mores salsa. The old school, real deal.
Chase Blau: Now we’re talkin’. I’ll come over.
It was as simple as that.
All of the uncertainty that had bubbled up in me after Chase left earlier this afternoon was erased in a moment, just because I’d had the courage to ask him to come over.
The courage to tell him how I was really feeling.
To tell him that I wanted him.
Adam Richardsen: Front door’s open for you. Any time.
Chase Blau: I’ll admit, I was secretly just wanting to be back there with you since I left earlier, anyway. I’ll be over in an hour.
21
CHASE
“I think we may be about to get in a fight,” I told Adam, plopping down onto his couch next to him. I put down the bowl of popcorn I’d brought in from the microwave and set it alongside some fresh-cut watermelon.
Adam grinned at me, leaning forward on the couch. “I’ll fight you any day about Batman and Superman.”
“How can you think Superman is boring?” I asked him, giving him a look like he was out of his mind.
The new Batman movie was paused on the big TV screen in front of us. We hadn’t started playing it yet. I’d been over at Adam’s place for about twenty minutes, but when I’d heard him say that Superman was boring compared to Batman, I knew I had to have a very serious talk with him.
I popped a piece of cold watermelon in my mouth as Adam formulated his thoughts.
“I just don’t know what Superman’s actual problems are,” Adam finally said. “Batman is so flawed, but Superman is so perfect.”
“No way in hell,” I said, shaking my head. “First of all, he has just as much childhood trauma. Ripped away from his planet at a young age.”
“Not quite as intense as Batman’s childhood trauma, but okay,” Adam said, and I reached over to playfully shove him.
“Superman’s whole appeal is that he feels like an alien,” I said. “He is an alien, even if he looks human. I love that his whole story is that he’s trying to figure out what it means to feel human. To fit in, even though he’s so different. To fall in love.”