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Cindy sat up. “Darius?”

I stood fast, and the room spun. “I’m sorry. I need⁠—”

I’d barely made it outside when I dropped to my knees beside the cabin and vomited into the dirt. My body violently refusing the future I’d tried to force down its throat.

Cindy came out behind me but stopped a few feet away. I vomited again. Until I was dry-heaving while tears burned my eyes. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

“I’m sorry,” I told her hoarsely.

Cindy crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you just throw up because you kissed me?”

“No.”

She narrowed her glare.

I closed my eyes. “Maybe.”

“Wow.”

“I’ve kissed girls before.”

“That’s not helping.”

“I’ve had sex with girls.”

“Still not helping.”

“I’ve dated girls my entire life.”

“Darius…” Cindy took a long breath, then sat beside me in the dirt, leaving a little space between herself and my regurgitated dinner. “Is this about Alvin?”

I looked towards the dark line of trees. Towards the lake again. Where I’d felt Alvin’s mouth. His hands. Heard his voice when he insisted I’d enjoyed kissing him.

I had spent years pretending I didn’t want him because wanting him made me afraid of everything else. My ma. My home. My name. The life I thought I was supposed to build.

But none of that changed what happened when I looked at him. Nothing changed the way my body reacted when he stood too close. Nothing changed the panic that rose when somebody else made him smile.

I pressed my palms against my eyes. “I don’t know,” I whispered.

Cindy was quiet for a long moment before she finally answered. “You do.”

I lowered my hands.

She looked sad, but not angry. Which made this more awkward, I think.

“I’m sorry,” I said again.

“Stop apologizing.”

“I didn’t mean to⁠—”

“I know.” She stood and brushed dirt off her shorts. “You just came here because you thought you were supposed to do it.”

I stared at her.

She shrugged. “It happens, not usually to me. But it happens.”

“I care about you.”