Almost Perfect - Brian Katcher [31]
And suddenly, Sage pulled away. When I opened my eyes, I found her staring at me with a look of abject fright on her face.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” she gasped.
“Why not?” I asked with a sinking feeling. It doesn’t bode well when a girl regrets kissing you during the kiss.
“Logan, we can’t do that again. Ever. You need to leave now.” The fear in her voice was intense. There was something I wasn’t getting. Something she hadn’t told me.
“Is this about your parents, Sage? Because they’ll never find out.”
Sage just shook her head, her eyes growing wider.
“Then … do you not like me? Just tell me, if that’s it.”
She shook her head again. “I’ve liked you since that first day in biology, Logan.”
I was delighted and terrified. What was this mysterious thing she was dancing around?
“Then talk to me, Sage. I deserve to know.”
She shook her head, then stopped. Almost imperceptibly, she nodded.
“Logan,” she croaked, real fear in her voice. “The reason I can’t date … the reason we can’t kiss … the reason why I was homeschooled …”
I suddenly didn’t want to know. Somehow, I realized that I was going to regret asking her to reveal this much. But I couldn’t stop.
“Yes, Sage?”
“I …” She swallowed, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. “I’m a boy.”
chapter eleven
I WASN’T SURE how long I’d been running, or how far. Seven or eight miles, probably. I didn’t remember going to the track. I just knew I was there, running at a dead sprint in my jeans and sneakers.
Sage is a guy. A boy. A MAN!
I had never been so disgusted. How could I not have known?
Her large hands. Her height. Christ, her husky voice.
And I’d fallen for it. Jesus, I’d fallen for it completely. I’d kissed a boy. French-kissed a boy! That made me a fag, didn’t it?
For a month, I’d fantasized about Sage. Her cute face, her muscular, athletic body. Now my mental image of her naked body filled me with horror. Big, hairy balls. An eight-inch cock. Flat, hairy chest and hairy back. And I had kissed her.
No, not her. Him.
In spite of the cold, sweat had soaked through my shirt. I was dimly aware of a splitting pain in my side and blisters forming on my feet. Still I ran.
When Sage had told me, I froze. Just for a second. And then I pulled back my fist to punch her. I was going to break her … his nose.
Sage didn’t move. Didn’t duck. It was like she knew the punch was coming. Expected it.
I don’t know why I didn’t hit her. I don’t know why I didn’t put that sicko in the hospital. Sage certainly had it coming.
No wonder she had been homeschooled. No wonder she wasn’t allowed to date but her sister was.
My breath was coming in painful gasps. A pair of middle-aged joggers tried to flag me down every time I passed them. I was oblivious. I ran faster.
And here I had thought maybe Sage didn’t like me. She liked me, all right! Just as I’m getting over Brenda, just when I think about dating again, the first girl who likes me is a guy! I never thought anything could hurt me as badly as what Brenda had done. But Sage made Brenda look like an amateur.
Then a thought blindsided me. An idea worse than Sage’s confession. Worse than the knowledge I’d made out with a boy.
I’d believed Sage was a girl. But does everyone else?
Now that I knew, Sage’s true sex was fairly obvious. Did anyone else guess? What if Jack or Tim figured it out? What if they thought I already knew?
The pain in my side turned to agony, and I went sprawling. On my hands and knees, I vomited all over the rubberized surface of the track.
“Logan?”
When you live in a trailer, you can’t sneak in. Mom was sitting on the couch in her waitress uniform watching a soap opera. I pretended I didn’t hear.
“Logan, are you okay?”
I kept walking. Just a few more steps to the bathroom.
“Logan!