Do you remember how your mom would wrap the presents so well it’d take at least five minutes to find where you could rip the paper?”I snorted. “Yes, and they were wrapped so much it was like unwrapping a hundred packages from morning ‘til lunch. It was Mom’s way of extending Christmas.”“I loved that—it always built the excitement. Just when you thought you had it, you had to unroll it. I miss her—she was like a second mother to me.
I knew,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to mine, “when I developed a crush on you.” My eyes flashed open. “But we drifted apart,” I whispered.He shook his head. “I was scared of how you’d react, that my feelings would complicate things, ruin our friendship. That is why we didn’t hang out much as we got older. We didn’t drift apart. I pushed you away.
He disowned me,” I murmured. “Kicked me out and told me to come back when I changed my choice.”“He seriously used those words? That it was a choice?”I nodded. “You can’t change it. Your sexuality is like your DNA. You can’t cut off your finger so it’s no longer there, because it is you. You’re born with it—you just discover it when you mature.