Autoboyography
Page 42

We lick our ice-cream cones and meander through the thick Saturday evening crowd. Everyone shops on Saturdays; Sundays are for worship and rest. Mormons aren’t supposed to do anything on Sundays that require someone else to work, so most of the time, they stay home after church services. It means the crowds today are dense and exuberant.
The other thing that’s easy to notice is that prom is on the horizon: Storefronts at every clothing shop proclaim they have dresses, tuxes, shoes, earrings, flowers. Sale, sale, sale. Prom, prom, prom.
With Eric having manned up and asked Autumn, I get to be Supportive Best Friend again, which apparently means waiting patiently while she tries on dress after dress in the brightly lit fitting room.
The first one is black, floor-length, and fitted, with cap sleeves and a neckline that dips questionably low. It also has a slit that runs clear up her thigh.
“It’s a bit much . . .” I wince dramatically, keeping my eyes in the general vicinity of her face. “It’s a lot much, actually.”
“A lot as in good?”
“Can you wear that to a school dance in Utah? It’s . . .” I pause, shaking my head. “I don’t know . . .” I motion to the lower half of her body, and Autumn leans forward to see what I’m looking at. “I can practically see your vagina, Auddy.”
“Tanner, no. Don’t say ‘vagina.’”
“Can you even sit down with that on?”
Autumn moves to a fuzzy pink chair and crosses her legs as if to demonstrate.
I look away. “Thank you for proving me right.”
“What color are my underwear?” she asks, grinning like she thinks I’m lying.
“Blue.”
Autumn stands, tugging the dress back down. “Damn. I like this one.” She moves to stand in front of the mirror, and a tiny spark of protectiveness hums in my chest as I imagine Eric and his hands and eighteen-year-old hormones all over her. She meets my eyes in the glass. “So you don’t like it?”
I feel like a dick for making her think she’s anything less than perfect and shouldn’t wear whatever she wants, but it’s in direct conflict with some big-brother-like instinct to tie Eric’s hands behind his back. “I mean, you look hot. It’s just . . . a lot of skin.”
“I look hot?” she asks, hopeful, and I feel my brows come together.
“You know you are.”
She hums as she considers her reflection. “I’ll put it in the maybe pile.”
Autumn disappears back into the dressing room, and from the bottom of the louvered door I see the black fabric pool around her feet before being kicked aside. “How’s the book coming, by the way? Now that I know a little more about it, I’m even more curious.”
I groan as I scroll through Instagram. “I like it, but I can’t use it.”
She peeks around the curtain. “Why not?”
I keep it vague: “Because it’s obvious that it’s about me falling in love with Sebastian, and I don’t think the bishop’s son would particularly appreciate being the star in a queer love story.”
Her voice is momentarily muffled as she slips into a new dress. “I can’t believe it’s about him. I could beta read it for you?”
The suggestion sends a panicked shiver across my skin. I’d feel less exposed sending a roll of naked selfies to the Provo High LISTSERV right now than I’d feel sending this book off to someone. Even Autumn.
The curtain parts again, and she steps out in a dress that’s a third of the size of the one before, and I feel like I’m missing something here. Autumn’s changed in front of me before, but it’s been in more of a rushed my-boobs-are-coming-out-so-if-you-don’t-want-to-see-them-you-better-make-a-run-for-it-now kind of way. But this feels different. A little . . . flaunty.
God, I feel like a douche for even thinking it.
“It looks like a bathing suit,” I say.
Undeterred, she flips her hair over her shoulder and adjusts the tiny skirt. “So can I read it or not?”
“I’m not quite there yet. Soon.” I watch her shimmy in the dress, not happy with either direction this conversation is going, but knowing the dress is the safer route. “I like this one. It’ll get you grounded till graduation, but I think that’s the fun part.”
She looks in the mirror again, turns around to see it from the back. “It might be too short,” she says, considering. Her ass is just covered by the fabric. If she bent over to adjust her shoe, the entire dress would climb up her back. “But I’m not buying anything today. Just getting a feel for what’s out there so I can start an idea book.”
“Like you’d do for a wedding dress?”
She gives me the finger before moving back to the changing room. “Are you sure you’re not going to prom? It won’t be the same without you there.”
When she peeks out of the curtain, I give her a flat, patient face.
“Yeah, yeah. I know,” she says, slipping from view again. “I mean, you could ask him.”
It’s strange that this is reality now: talking about my sexuality to someone besides my parents. Talking about him.
“I’m pretty sure it would be a hard pass.”
I watch her feet as they climb into her jeans. “That sucks.”
I’m worried she’s starting to assume that something is happening with me and Sebastian even though I haven’t indicated it. “Let’s list the reasons it’s unrealistic: I don’t know if he’s gay. He’s LDS. He graduated last year. He leaves soon on his book tour and then his mission. I swear the last thing he would want to do is go to prom with me.”
Somewhere in my monologue, Autumn has emerged from the dressing room, but now she’s looking wide-eyed over my shoulder. I turn just in time to see Julie and McKenna leaving the store, madly typing on their phones.
• • •
Autumn doesn’t think they heard anything, but how the hell would she know? She was in the dressing room the whole time. I’m trying not to freak out, and as nice as it is that I think this brings it home for Autumn how precarious it can be to be queer here, her sweet babble in the background of my blender-brain isn’t helping calm me down.
Despite blowing up his phone nearly constantly, I haven’t heard from Sebastian. Now, for the first time, I’m relieved he’s out of cell range and I won’t be tempted to spill the events of the day with Manny, Autumn, Julie, and McKenna. I have to do some damage control or he is going to Lose. His. Mind.
“Do you think I should text Manny and find out what he was talking about?” I ask Autumn, turning onto her street.
She hums. “Or I could?”
“No, I mean, I would do it, but . . . I wonder if it’s better to just leave it alone. Pretend nothing is different.”
I pull up at the curb and put my car in park.
“How did Manny know, anyway?” she asks.
This right here is what I can’t figure out. And if Manny knows, maybe everyone knows. And if everyone knows and they see me with Sebastian . . . they’ll know about him, too.
• • •
I’m stress-watching an episode of Pretty Little Liars when the first text from Sebastian comes in. I almost bolt off the couch.
Just got home. Is it cool if I come over?
I look at the empty house around me. Hailey is at a friend’s and my parents are enjoying a rare night out together. It’s nearly nine, but no one will be home for a few hours. I know what my dad said about using this place to sneak around, but he can at least come over, right? We’ll hang on the couch, watch some TV. There’s nothing wrong with that.