Friends. And Stuff.

"Hey, Ryan…?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm going to—"

"No."

"But—"

"No."

"Oh God! I'm sorry. I thought—"

"Yeah?"

"I'm an idiot. I thought you were gay—I'm sorry—"

"I am."

"…But—Then—"

"Why won't I let you kiss me in the dance studio?"

"I—I thought of it more as, you know, as us kissing. Than as you letting me kiss you. I'm sorry—I thought—"

"That I was attracted to you?"

"Yes, okay? I did think that! I'm an idiot, okay?"

"You are. But not for that. I am. Attracted to you."

"Then—"

"No."

"I…don't understand."

"Clearly."

"But why—"

"Okay. Consider this thoroughly. What do you know about me?"

"From what you said? You're gay. And you're attracted to me."

"Yeah, fine. What else?"

"You're… uh… rich? Good at baseball? A dancer? An actor? Umm…"

"Go on."

"Gorgeous?"

"I'm not actually seeking compliments here."

"Then what are you trying to do? Other than completely humiliate me?"

"I'm not trying to humiliate me. I'm just—okay. I'm high maintenance."

"You're joking."

"I'm not."

"I was being sarcastic, dude."

"Yeah, well. Whatever."

"So you think … what? That I'm not up to … like … maintaining you? I'll have you know that I rock at maintenance. I've had control of my folks' car's maintenance since I was like twelve, and that car is running better than any Plymouth its age has any right to!"

"Oh. My. God. You just compared me to a car. To a Plymouth. An old Plymouth."

"Well sorry, it's where I go when I think about maintenance. And you were the one who brought it up. And I know that … you know … people are different. I get that. But, I mean, I'm willing to put in some work."

"Uh huh. People?"

"Like friends. And stuff."

"And you want to be friends with me? That's what this is about? Or is this … how did you put it? 'Stuff'?"

"Stuff. Definitely stuff."

"Okay, so what stuff do you have in mind? Because I'm sorry, but being stuff isn't particularly appealing to me."

"You know. Like boyfriends."

"And that's what you want? For us to be boyfriends?"

"Well… yeah. I mean—I kinda thought that we… sorta were already started. Or, you know, almost."

"Did you?"

"Yes, dammit! And you don't have to sound so surprised, because you totally were holding my hand the other day, and you know it!"

"I recall that."

"Then I don't get why the hell you're giving me this crazy cross-examination as though this were coming out of nowhere!"

"Maybe 'cuz as soon as we heard Troy around the corner, your hands were in your pockets."

"I…"

"I am attracted to you, Chad. That's totally true. But that's not everything, and I'm far, far too good to be anybody's dirty little secret, no matter how much I like them."

"Why didn't you—I mean, why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't think I had to. I thought you made your decision, and that was it. We were back to friends. Especially since you didn't say or do anything else until today."

"But I didn't—"

"Yeah, Chad. You did. Whether you intended to or not. Because I will not be hidden. I will not date anyone who's ashamed to be seen dating me."

"But I'm not—I just—"

"It doesn't matter."

"But I—Look, I'll kiss you right now in front of the whole team."

"Right, because all actors are exhibitionists. No thanks. I don't need you proving things to me or yourself or whoever you're trying to prove things to with overstated gestures, Chad. It's sweet, I guess, but no."

"Then what can I do?"

"Not much, that I can think of. What—that's my hat!"

"I know. You can wear mine."

"A dirty ballcap. Lucky me. Where are we—Chad. I am not kissing you in front of the basketball team. I'm willing to accept that they probably like both of us enough not to beat the shit out of us, but even so, when I said I wasn't an exhibitionist? I totally mean it. At least when it comes to personal stuff. The only time I'd ever gather an audience before kissing someone is if it was a part in a show."

"I'm not going to kiss you."

"Okay then. What are you doing?"

"I'm going to out myself."

"Chad—this is a really big decision. You shouldn't be making it just to—to get in my pants."

"Woah, Ryan, not that I don't appreciate it, but you're moving a little too fast for me. I'm totally not ready for pants yet. Will you go out with me anyway, or do you only like the bad boys?"

"Chad…"

"Aww, c'mon. Smile… There we go. And here we are—Troy! Zeke! Guys, over here!"

"This is a bad idea, Chad. And it won't guarantee you a date, you know. Much less a kiss."

"Understood. Hey guys. There's something I've been meaning to tell you. Sort of. Dreading's maybe a better word. But yeah. I'm gay. Or possibly bi. But I'm thinking gay. And I'm totally into Ryan, who won't go out with me because he thinks I don't want to be seen with him by you guys. At least as more than friends. So I just wanted to, you know, drive through the close-out. So, yeah. Anyway—seeya! C'mon, Ry! Before they stop staring and start talking!"

"But—I—"

"Run now. Talk later…. Okay. Right. Now. Would you have any interest in having dinner with me?"

"You're working tonight."

"So I'll serve you. Won't that be romantic?"

"God, you're an idiot. What the hell was that?"

"An invitation."

"Not that. That thing. With Troy and Zeke."

"That was me coming out."

"Just like that?"

"Well, yeah. I really have been meaning to. And dreading."

"Then why did you—"

"Stuff my hands in my pockets the other day? Because I'd rather tell them on my own terms than have them catch me. You know. Like I was ashamed of you."

"I-- Oh."

"Yeah. Oh."

"So, um…"

"Yeah?"

"About that kiss…?"

"Is that an apology?"

"Evanses don't apologize."

"No?"

"No. We do, however, kiss amazingly well. Take it or leave it."

"No contest. None at—mmmph!"