Chapter 6: 6 ~ Denial Style

So, as it turns out, putting on the nail polish was the easy part.

Of course I wanted to do it right, so that involved some poking around the internet and watching a few helpful videos just to make sure, but honestly? Way, way simpler than I expected. I was extra careful, doing two coats and then a layer of topcoat, providing plenty of space in between and after each layer so that it dried well. And sure, I messed up a bit around the edges, but once it dried I just picked off the parts that had veered onto skin.

If anything the polish looked even better on my nails than it had in the bottle. It was dark but a definitively rich blue, not just black, and the sparkles came out when the light hit it just right. I spent a long amount of time wiggling my fingers and staring at them. You know. For research. It was very prudent to make sure I knew exactly how sparkly my fingernails are, in case I need to... hide... them? Or in case I needed to perform a dramatic flourish with the appropriate degree of twinkle, maybe. You never know.

The hard part was entirely unexpected.

Because right now I was standing in the hall, in the middle of an interminable conversation with Avery and he still hadn’t noticed. I wasn't quite willing to stoop to magician-showing-off-a-handkerchief hand gestures, but each moment where he kept chattering away about some stupid story about some guy he knows, the closer I got to jabbing one sparkly finger right in his face.

I scratched my nose, very slowly and deliberately. Nothing. He… was he still talking about the stupid LGBTQ club again or whatever? Jesus christ. Nodding along, I maintained the bare minimum of a polite smile on my face.

Maybe he had noticed after all but didn’t want to say anything. Maybe it was just change blindness. Maybe he had chosen to actively torture me.

God what even was the fucking point if no one notices or reacts or—

“Hey guys,” Jenn said, walking past the two of us. “I dig the new nails.”

The door to the bathroom clicked shut behind her. When I turned to look back at Avery, he was staring at my hands, eyes wide.

“Did you— did you paint your fingernails?” he finally asked.

I shrugged. “Oh yeah, I guess I did do that earlier today. I had forgotten all about it. Ha ha.”

“Whoa. That’s… really cool.”

You know, it’s surprisingly hard to pull off a proper air of nonchalance when you can’t keep from grinning.

“Is it?” I said.

And then my ambition got the better of me. This was good… but I needed more.

“Oh, Ave, I was also thinking… Maybe we could go do something this week?”

He did a double take. “Wait, really?”

“Is it that surprising?”

“Well, last time I asked you about leaving the house, you just said ‘You know how I feel about activities' and threw a book at my head.”

“Ah.” I waved away his concerns with one hand, watching with amusement as his eyes followed my fingers. “I changed my mind.”

His eyes met my own again, and I could swear there were little twinkly stars shining in them. “Then, you could come to the LGBTQ—”

“Nope!” I said. “I was thinking Anime Club this Tuesday evening.”

Wow, his face enacted a surprisingly quick transition from wonderment to sheer terror before going back to a guarded, neutral frown. I raised an eyebrow.

“Um. I don’t know if that’s… a good idea?”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on, I know you don’t know anything about anime because you’re a fucking normie, but I like you anyways. You’ll be fine.”

He looked queasy and unconvinced.

“Of course, I could also just decide to withdraw from society entirely. Take up a new career as a professional hermit. Is that cool with you?”

Avery sighed. “Okay, Greg.”

“Trust me, it will be… ~fun~.”

Did you know? Jazz hands are 200% more fun when you're wearing sparkly nail polish.

 

---

Anime Club held its meetings deep in the bowels of one of the older buildings on campus. As it turned out though, the room was one of the school's hidden gems, a lecture hall laid out like a small theater, with a nice big screen to project onto.

The past few times I had attended, I would slink in a few minutes after the first show had started and grab a seat near the back, the better to avoid any and all human contact. But I had a goal in actually showing up for the first time in months. The plan was to have the chance to (extremely briefly) interact with other people, so we arrived early, when the club members would be hanging out and sharing snacks before the show started.

Or at least I did. Standing at the door to the room, I looked back to see Avery twenty feet behind me, dragging his feet as if I was marching him to his own execution.

“Seriously?” I snapped. “What exactly is your problem tonight?”

He looked pale, but picked up his feet a bit. “Nothing. Just nervous.”

“You’re not gonna be corrupted by watching anime for an hour or two. I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, and I grabbed his arm and practically dragged him into the room.

There were only a handful of people around: a pair of girls who were chatting in seats near the front, a guy over at the snacks table, another couple of people fiddling with the AV equipment in the back. I was about to see exactly what there was to eat, when one of the projector guys looked up and saw us. Before I knew what was happening, he shouted out an excited “Hey!” and started hurrying over.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to recall anything about the guy. He was attractive - I mean, if you were into guys, which I wasn't - but in kind of a dorky way, the kind of guy who you'd describe as 'cute' rather than 'hot.' Like he had his hair spiked up, trying very hard to make it look like he hadn’t tried at all.

Oh right, this was… the club president, maybe? There’s no way he remembered me, though.

“Good to see you again!” he called out as he got closer.

What?

Then I realized that he wasn't talking to me. I just thought that he was because Avery was practically hiding behind me. Wait a sec.

I took a large step to the side, leaving Avery with no cover. “You two know each other?”

“Y-yeah,” Avery said. “Hi Mark.”

Mark practically tackled him, spinning Avery around until somehow he had him in a side hug, one arm slung over his shoulder. He grinned broadly. “Of course we know each other! I’m tryin’ to get this guy,” he jerked his thumb up at Avery, “to follow in my footsteps as Treasurer for the LGBTQ Alliance next semester.”

I glanced up at Avery, who didn’t seem to be breathing well. He was standing stock-still as this Mark guy practically draped himself across him.

Oh! Yeah, okay, that was the club that Avery kept talking about lately for some reason. I connected the two dots in my head. He didn’t want to come tonight cause he knew Mark would be here, and... he was trying to avoid him? 

“I didn’t know you liked anime, Ave!” Mark said. “That’s so cool!”

“Um, yep, uh-huh.”

I couldn’t help myself. I barked out a laugh, causing Mark to give me a curious look. “Avery doesn’t know shit about anime. One time he asked me if ‘dragonball’ was some kind of Japanese sport.”

“Oh,” Mark said, looking puzzled. “I see.” He let go of Avery, but left one hand resting on his shoulder.

Wow, Avery was really glaring at me now, huh. How was this supposed to be my fault? Maybe if you had actually told me what was going on, I wouldn't have—

Okay, maybe if you had told me what was going on and had kept it interesting enough for me to pay attention to. Same thing.

“Well!” Mark said, regaining his cheer. “That’s great news, then. There are so many excellent shows that you’ve yet to experience! I mean, if you’re interested, we could totally catch up on some of the classics at my place sometime?”

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Now Avery's eyes were wide. Huh.

I smirked. “Oh, I’m sure he’d love that. You two would have more of a chance to talk about Treasurer stuff too.” I just had to twist the knife a little, given how often lately Avery had been on my case about more social interactions. This would serve him right.

“That’s a good point! What do you say?”

Avery’s face was pale, his eyes darting between me and Mark. I began to feel a little bit bad about messing with him if it bothered him this much. But then he smiled and mumbled a “Yeah. That’d be cool.”

“You okay, dude?” I asked. “You’re awfully flushed.”

Mark turned to grasp Avery’s shoulders, look at him with a sort of intense concern. “Oh gosh, you are. Are you feeling okay?”

“I just— just need some air,” Avery said in kind of a rush. He pulled back a bit, and Mark reluctantly let go of him.

But weirdly enough, as Avery walked past me, I swear I could hear him whisper “Thanks, I owe you”? God, he was totally going to prank me back for leaving him twisting in the wind there, huh. Halfway towards the door, he stopped to turn around and awkwardly wave. Mark returned the gesture enthusiastically.

I was left still looking at the door after him, trying to do some mental math that refused to add up right, when Mark spoke up again to remind me that he was still there.

“So you’re the roommate, huh?”

I turned back towards him. “Yup.” I gestured towards myself, and noted as his eyes flickered to my fingers and then back to my face again. I smiled. “I’m, uh…” I took a breath. “Grickett.”

“Cool,” he said. “I’m Mark, but I guess you know that.”

“Yeah. I’ve been to a few meetings before this year, just not particularly regularly. And I normally sit in the back.”

He nodded. “Glad to have you with us, then. And sorry for not introducing myself sooner!”

I wasn’t sure what Avery’s problem was. Mark seemed perfectly nice. Albeit a bit less exuberant and touchy-feely when Avery wasn’t around, but I wasn't going to complain about that. This was much more my speed.

“By the way, what’re we watching tonight?”

“Oh!” Mark perked up. “So this is a bit of a departure from our usual, but: Pretty Guardian Love Force.”

I blinked. “What, that one old magical girl show?”

“Yeah, except there was a remake a couple of years back that slipped under most people’s radars. My friend Bex vouches for it though, so we’re gonna give it a shot. Hey Bex!”

I looked over at the seats, where Mark was waving at someone. I hadn’t even noticed them when I first walked in the room - or had they come in later? Huh. They wore a threadbare pink hoodie, but whether that was its original color or if it had been red and faded, I wasn’t certain. As they stood up, I realized that they were tall, too - a good three or four inches taller than me. They walked over to the two of us, hands jammed into the pockets of the hoodie.

“Hey,” they mumbled.

Between the light glaring off of the thick glasses they were wearing and their messy bangs, I couldn’t see their eyes at all.

“Bex, this is Grickett. Grickett, Bex.” Mark chuckled. “Guess you two can be the founding members of the cool names club.”

“University login?” Bex asked.

I blinked, not understanding at first. They spoke really softly, and I found myself leaning in to make sure I heard. But it wasn’t annoyingly quiet or anything. It was, like… soothing? But then I got the meaning: they were correctly assuming the name I had given came from the email id the university had assigned me. 

“Y-yeah,” I responded. 

They nodded. “Becclest. Not as good in full, so. Bex.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” I said. “I guess I’m not the only strange one.”

I stuck out a hand. Wait. Was a handshake right? Or was that weird? Fuck.

While I was about to panic, Bex reached down to take my hand and gently shake it. In the process, they tilted their head just enough that I could see their eyes for the first time, and all other thoughts fled my head for a moment.

Their eyes were striking. I don’t know if it was because they had been previously hidden, or if it was their beautiful hazel color, or what, but I was left staring into them for a moment that seemed to stretch out abnormally long. Was Bex staring as intently at me as I thought they were? What…

They released my hand and I jerked back a bit, realizing I had swayed even closer to them.

I thought I heard Mark snort for a sec. “Like I was saying though, Bex was telling me that the Pretty Guardian Love Force remake is his favorite animated show.”

“Favorite anime,” Bex corrected.

Mark shrugged. “Same difference.”

“Mmm. I’m going to get some popcorn.”

“Save me some!” Mark called after them as they walked away to the snacks table.

I gazed after them, reflecting… reflectively.

Mark waited a long moment, and then cleared his throat.

When he spoke again, it was suddenly a whole lot flatter than normal. “Um. Hey. Bex is a grownup and can make his own decisions, but he’s also kind of... sensitive. And a good friend of mine. So if you’re weird or something and somehow make him feel shitty, I’m going to make you regret it.”

I blinked. “Wait. What?”

“I think you know what I’m talking about.”

“I most certainly do not,” I insisted. “Why exactly do you think I would be interested in your friend?”

Mark made a hmm noise to himself. “Maybe because I didn't even say you were 'interested' in him, you just assumed that. But mostly because you’re still staring at his ass, like, right now?”

I snapped my head back towards Mark, feeling my face heat with… anger, surely. “I know you’re part of the LGBTQ club or whatever, but I am… not. And even if I was, trust me: I would treat whoever I dated with the utmost of respect.”

“Alright,” Mark said, sounding somewhat unconvinced.

I crossed my arms, glaring at him.

But he didn't even seem to notice. He was just gazing at me, looking faintly puzzled. “But really? You're straight? How boring.”

I paused, my righteous anger fading. “I know, right?” I muttered.

And then for some reason, Mark burst out into laughter, this time slinging his arm around my shoulders. I wriggled, but his grip was surprisingly strong.

“I like you, Grickett!” he said. “Not the least of which because we need more straight dudes who wear nail polish. It’s a good look!”

Hell yeah it was.

We chatted for a bit more before someone over at the projector called Mark over again. I wound up enjoying the rest of the evening, particularly when Avery got back and I could bully him into bringing me skittles in-between each of the episodes. The show was surprisingly good too. Bex knew what was up. I was going to tell them that, but they had disappeared as soon as the show was over.

But the whole time something kept circling back around, sticking in my head like a thorn. Mark had meant it as a compliment. In fact, I had come out tonight to specifically see if anyone would comment positively on my new stylistic affectation.

So why did him calling me a 'straight dude who wore nail polish' make me feel so terrible?

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