I Always Thought I Was Straight Until I Moved In With My Best Friend. Now Our Landlord Is Kicking Us Out And I Have To Decide. Should I Tell Him How I Feel Before We Lose Everything?

A Shared Moment

The employee nods and walks away. My roommate doesn’t say anything about it. We keep looking at trees, but now the air between us feels even more charged. We finally agree on a 7ft Douglas fir that’s full and even on all sides. It’s perfect.

We wait near the wrapping station while they get it ready. My roommate pulls out his wallet to pay. I stand there like an idiot with my hands in my pockets. All my rehearsed words have completely vanished.

I had this whole speech planned about how I’ve been feeling and how I know it might be weird, but I can’t keep pretending nothing is happening. But standing here watching him hand his card to the employee, I can’t remember a single word of it. He finishes paying, and we walk toward his car.

The employee helps us load the wrapped tree onto the roof rack. It takes both of us to lift it and get it secured properly. We end up pressed close together, reaching over the tree to tie down the straps. I can feel the warmth from his body even through our jackets.

He’s so close I can smell his shampoo. We both grab for the same strap at the same time and our hands collide. He doesn’t pull away. Neither do I. We’re standing there with the tree between us and our hands touching, and he’s looking right at me.

I look back for a long moment. We just stare at each other over the pine branches. Then he blinks and looks away, and the moment breaks. We finish tying down the tree in silence. The drive home is quiet again. I stare out the window and try to calm down. My hands are shaking.

Decorating

Back at the apartment, we wrestle the tree through the front door. Pine needles scatter everywhere across the floor. We laugh as we try to maneuver it through the hallway without knocking over the lamp. We finally get it into the living room and spend 20 minutes fighting with the tree stand to get it straight.

More needles fall. I end up with sap stuck in my hair somehow. I try to pull it out, but it’s really stuck. He notices me struggling and steps closer. He reaches up and carefully works the small branch free from behind my ear.

His fingers brush against my neck. They stay there for a second longer than necessary. I stop breathing. He’s so close I can see the flecks of color in his eyes. Then he steps back and holds up the tiny branch.

“Got it,” his voice sounds different, quieter.

“Thanks,” mine sounds weird too.

We order pizza because neither of us feels like cooking. We spend the afternoon pulling out boxes of Christmas decorations from the hall closet. We sit on the floor untangling strings of lights while a Christmas movie plays on TV.

He makes comments about the cheesy dialogue, and I laugh at his jokes. The normalcy of it starts to make me relax. We’ve done this kind of thing a hundred times. Just hanging out and watching movies and talking about nothing important.

The Almost Confession

For a little while, I almost forget that I’m supposed to be confessing my feelings. Almost forget about the tension that’s been building between us for months. We’re just two friends decorating for Christmas. Then he speaks.

“Hey,” he says it casually, but something in his tone makes me look up. “I’m sorry about last night. When my mom called.”

“It’s fine,” I focus on the lights in my hands. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No, I mean…” He pauses. “Do you remember what I was about to tell you?”

My heart starts pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. I have to focus on breathing normally, on not letting my hands shake, on keeping my voice steady.

“Yeah, I remember,” I tell him. “I’ve been thinking about it all night.” My voice comes out weird and shaky.

He doesn’t look at me. He keeps messing with the strand of lights in his hands, winding it around his fingers and then unwinding it again. The silence stretches out between us until it feels like something solid taking up space in the room.

I watch his hands work the cord and wait for him to say something. Anything. But he just keeps his eyes down and focuses on those lights like they’re the most important thing in the world.

My chest starts to feel tight. I wonder if I shouldn’t have said anything at all. Maybe I should have just let it go and pretended I forgot about the whole thing. But I can’t pretend anymore. Not after watching him almost tell me something important before his mom called.