Chapter 4

"I come bearing alcohol," Carl informed, as he barged back into Blake's room, with a six-pack of Coke, and two solo cups, "and news!" He handed one of the cups to Blake, who poured a bit of the rum into it, before mixing it with soda. "You'll never believe this," Carl paused for dramatic effect, "but Hoodsey just ditched the party with Macie."

"You're right," Blake half-joked, "I honestly can't believe that."

"Well, they did." Carl poured himself a rum and coke, which he made a little stronger than Blake's. "Apparently, they danced, too."

Blake laughed at the irony, as he thought back to the Burl Forkenschtock situation. "Think she knows it wasn't their first time?"

"Prob'ly," Carl figured. "Although," he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows, as a toothy smirk revealed his overbite, "it's not like it can't be their first time for something else, tonight."

Easily embarrassed by all that's related to sex, Blake could feel his face heat up at the very mention of it. "I doubt that they'll jump directly into the sack." He rolled his eyes. "Still, I can't believe that he finally made a move," he repeated, secretly envious that Hoodsey had actually done what Blake knew he himself would never be able to bring himself to.

"Right?" Carl couldn't help the proud smile that at spread across his face, as he mentally congratulated his friend, wherever Hoodsey was currently at, and whatever he happened to be doing with Macie.

"Wait," Blake said in sudden realization, "so, Hoodsey just left without you?"

Carl snickered. "Guess so..."

"Are you just gonna head back home with Ginger, then?"

"Actually, Ginger's spending the night with Courtney." Carl took a large sip of his drink. "I'll probably just take a cab."

"Um, it's okay if you just want to stay here," Blake offered.

"Okay." Carl shrugged in attempt to appear nonchalant. "Thanks."

"No problem." Blake sipped his own drink, as he contemplated Courtney's situation. "You know," he hesitantly started, unsure of whether or not to reveal her deepest secret, "my sister's, like, in love with yours?" In saying this, he couldn't help but internally laugh at the coincidence that both he and his sister would fall in gay love for the respective Foutley siblings.

Carl raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Seriously?" Blake nodded. "How do you know?"

"Um..." Blush crept over Blake's face, which he turned away in shame. "I may have read it in her diary."

Carl's jaw dropped. "You read your sister's diary?!" Apparently, that was the part he was most concerned with. "Man," he shook his head in disapproval, "even I've never read my sister's diary."

"Well, we can't all be saints," Blake quipped, with a roll of his eyes. "Anyway, don't tell anyone, please... Especially Ginger."

Carl hesitated with his response, as he carefully considered Blakes words. He didn't want to keep such a profound secret from his sister, when it happened to be related to her, but he understood that the secret was Courtney's alone. "I won't say a word to anyone, Blakey-boy," Carl promised, and Blake believed him without a doubt, because Carl's word could always be trusted. "Seriously, though, I had no idea Courtney felt that way about Ginger, or that she even swings that way, in the first place." Honestly, Carl's heart broke for Courtney, whose feelings would probably never be requited. Not only was Ginger straight as an arrow, but she was already taken by Darren.

"Yeah," Blake self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck, in response to the subject of same-sex attraction, "I think she may be, like, bisexual."

"Well," Carl gulped down more alcohol, as he mustered up the courage to say, "that probably makes two of us." As soon as these words left Carl's mouth, Blake's eyes widened, which caused the former to worry that his admission had been a mistake. Honestly, Carl had always had suspicions about Blake's orientation, but maybe they were way off. If so, there was always the possibility that Blake didn't even support same-sex attraction, when exhibited by other dudes. After all, some heterosexual guys were like that. "Um, are you not cool with that, or—?"

"I'm cool with it!" Blake was quick to assure Carl, but mentally facepalmed, as he proceeded to berate himself internally for how overly enthusiastic he sounded. After all, this piece of information provided the hope that Blake had almost lost, after all these years of pining over his seemingly straight frenemy. "I mean, I'm not homophobic." He shifted his weight uncomfortably on the bed, and muttered under his breath, "Quite the opposite."

"Wait," Carl paused, to make sure Blake's words had correctly sunk in, "did you just say that you're gay?"

"Maybe..." Blake kept his eyes on the floor, and tried to ignore the heat that rose to his cheeks.

"Like, ten-out-of-ten gay?"

"Eleven-out-of-ten," Blake quipped.

"Well..." It wasn't like he'd exactly known this piece of information, but... "I can't say I'm surprised." After all, this could explain a lot of Blake's mannerisms and past behavior. Especially, his behavior toward Carl, who quickly swept that thought under the carpet.

In feigned offense, Blake mock gasped at Carl's admission, and playfully punched the latter's shoulder. "Don't be a dick."

"But, you like dick." Blake's face turned a deeper shade of red, in response to, not only the point that Carl had made, but the fact that, in referring to himself as a dick, Carl unintentionally implied that Blake liked him. "So, when or how did you, like, figure yourself out?"

"Um, I've pretty much always known." Blake self-consciously ran a hand through his wispy, blonde hair. "I mean, I started questioning myself at quite a young age." Carl found his thoughts drawn back to their childhoods, and the way Blake had obsessed over his quest for Carl's friendship, similarly to how Carl had obsessed over their rivalry. No way, the redhead thought to himself, with an internal laugh. There's no way Blake likes me, that way. Perhaps, in denial, he halfway convinced himself of that, and temporarily wrote off his suspicion. "Like, I'd always felt like girls had literal cooties." Despite his internal struggle, Carl couldn't help but laugh at this. "Jenny Smith randomly kissed me, in fourth grade, and I was just like, 'Ew, no!.'"

"It's probably easier, when you're able to rule out your attraction to one of the sexes," Carl grasps. "I never had to question whether or not I liked chicks, so I just assumed that I was straight, until a certain point."

Curiously, Blake asked, "What point was that?"

With eyebrows knit in concentration, Carl frowned, as he considered the question. Almost instantly, he flashed back to a particular day in junior high, after he'd just been one-upped by Blake, who proceeded to rub his victory in Carl's face. Really, the redhead should've been pissed off about it—and he had been—yet there happened to be another emotion, buried deeply beneath the simmer of rage. The arrogant smirk that had spread across Blake's face, and the sound of condescension in his voice, roused a rabble of butterflies in the pit of Carl's stomach. It was a sensation that the latter hadn't been able to ignore, and had stuck with him throughout the rest of that day. Furthermore, he'd continued to recognize it, in future interactions with Blake. Even now, as Carl thought back on it, he could probably trace his subconscious attraction to Blake, all the way back to his later years of elementary school.

"Um, I can't really pinpoint a specific moment," Carl lied. "I just started to gradually wonder about myself, I guess." At least, the latter half of his explanation was true. "Still, not really sure that I've got myself figured out."

"Well," Blake shrugged, "it's not like you have to figure it out, right away."

"Yeah..." With a sigh, Carl polished off the rest of his drink.