I'M NOT JEALOUS

Ethan was infuriatingly nice.

Mason discovered this on Friday when Adrian invited him over for dinner. Ethan arrived with fresh flowers, a bottle of wine, and an easy smile that made Mason instantly resent the architectural profession.

"You must be Mason," Ethan said. "Adrian's told me a lot about you."

"All lies, I assume."

Ethan laughed. "Mostly about your video work. I'm impressed."

That was worse. He was complimentary.

Ethan helped set the table. He listened when Adrian spoke. He even knew which wine Adrian preferred.

Mason occupied himself by making increasingly unnecessary trips to the kitchen.

"Need a hand?" Ethan asked.

"Nope. I've got hands. Two of them. Industry standard."

Adrian shot him a warning glance.

Dinner was excellent. Mason barely tasted it. He watched Ethan brush a crumb from Adrian's sleeve and felt something hot and ugly twist behind his ribs.

He had done that before.

He had done that without thinking.

Now somebody else was doing it with deliberate tenderness.

After dessert, Ethan excused himself to take a call. Mason immediately leaned across the table.

"His haircut is weird."

Adrian stared. "What?"

"Nothing. It's a structural observation."

"He's an architect, Mason. Not a building."

"I can still have opinions."

Adrian put down his fork. "Are you jealous?"

"Of his haircut? Absolutely not."

"Of Ethan."

Mason crossed his arms. "Why would I be jealous?"

"That's what I'm asking."

Mason couldn't answer, so he glanced at the dessert plate. "You made apple pie."

"Yes."

"That's my favorite."

"It's Ethan's favorite, too."

Mason felt foolish and devastated at the same time.

"Right," he said. "Of course."

Adrian's expression softened, but he didn't reach across the table. Mason could almost feel the effort it cost him not to.

Ethan returned, unaware he'd interrupted a small emotional catastrophe.

Later, Mason heard the door close behind him. Adrian stood in the kitchen rinsing glasses. Mason appeared beside him.

"He's a good guy," Mason said.

"Yes."

"He likes you."

"I think so."

"Do you like him?"

Adrian stopped rinsing.

"Mason."

"I'm asking a question."

"You ask questions like you're hoping one answer will undo all the other answers."

Mason looked at him helplessly.

Adrian dried his hands. "Ethan knows what he wants. He's kind, and he's honest, and he doesn't treat wanting me like an embarrassing accident."

Mason recoiled.

"That's not fair."

"No," Adrian said quietly. "It isn't."

He left the kitchen.

Mason stood alone beside the sink. He could still smell cinnamon from the pie. For the first time in his life, his favorite dessert tasted like losing.

The next morning, he called his older sister.

"Hypothetical question," he said when she answered.

"This is already bad," Claire replied.

"Can someone be jealous without being in love?"

"Of course. People get jealous over parking spaces."

"Right. Great."

"But you don't sound like you're talking about a parking space."

Mason shut his eyes. Claire had met Adrian several times. At Thanksgiving she'd called them an old married couple, and Mason had laughed so hard he'd spilled gravy.

"What if it's Adrian?" he asked.

There was silence. Then Claire said, "Oh, honey."

"Don't 'oh honey' me."

"I've been waiting two years to say 'oh honey' to you about this."

Mason sat down hard.

"You knew?"

"I knew you talked about him like he hung the moon. I didn't know what you'd eventually call that."

"I thought I was straight."

"Maybe you are mostly interested in women. Maybe you're bi. Maybe you'll find another word that fits. You don't have to solve your whole identity today. But you do need to stop making Adrian carry the uncertainty for you."

Mason swallowed.

"What if I'm too late?"

Claire's voice gentled. "Then tell him the truth anyway. He deserves it. So do you."