Doubt

"Babe? You never told me you wrote a diary,"

I flush. My cheeks burning at an intense rate as I bound off the bed and onto him, pulling the journal out of his hands.

"Oh my god! Tell me you didn't read it!" I panic as I sit opposite him, clutching the book to my chest.

"Nic, sweetie... It's okay," he holds up his hands, a concerned look on his face. "Are you alright?" he removes my left hand from the book and pulls me towards him. I follow his hand and rest my head in his chest as I sit on the floor in front of him, his legs wrapping around me. He closes his arms around my body, pulling me in to him. "I'm sorry," he whispers in my ear.

I shake my head softly, smiling nervously. "It's okay, I just wasn't expecting it, that's all,"

I feel him nod into my shoulder. "I wouldn't have read anything without your permission... Okay?" He kisses my cheek. "I'm sorry I scared you like that,"

This is why I love Pete. He's not afraid to say sorry. So many people would make a 5 star drama out of trying to stutter the word out. It really is one of the hardest things to say, but not for Pete.

"Did you have a good time studying?" he chuckles, nuzzling his nose into the side of my neck. Another reason why I love Pete: he knows when to change the subject; and when to keep it going.

I let out a poof of air. "Got kinda boring,"

"Aww," he moans, pulling a sad face. I smile and rose to my feet, returning to my bed. Closing my textbooks, my heart beats painfully in my chest. I don't think I've ever been panicked like that before.

Pete stands and walks over to the diary. He picks it up and places it back in the closet on the shelf. I love how he respects my privacy.

"Sorry for freaking out like that," I mutter, packing my things away.

"No, don't be silly. I should have asked if it was okay for me to read it when I found it," he places a hand on my shoulder and snuggles his nose into my ear, kissing my neck gently. "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

I shake my head immediately. "Honestly, it's nothing to worry about. Just... Self expression," I cringe as I say it.

"Self expression? Nic... Please talk to me if you--"

"Old self expression," I cut him off. "it doesn't matter now," I push my things to one side and turn to smile at him. "Now stop making me look like an attention seeking fool,"

Pete erupts with laughter. "Oh my god, Nic! I don't think that!" he shakes his head, wrapping his arms around me tightly. "Where the hell do you come up with this stuff!?"

I chuckle, placing my hands on his. I always hated talking to people about my feelings. I always worried that they'd think I'm a pathetic little depressed child who needs to build a bridge, get over it and live my life with a smile on my face. Well, sometimes it's harder than that. Sometimes, no matter how good things seem to be going for you, you will always be filled with self hatred, doubt and most annoyingly: regret.

I didn't commit a crime. I regret being gay. I sometimes wonder if, before I was born, my soul had a meeting with God. He would ask me how I would like to life my life. Boy? Girl? Smart? Dumb? Gay? Straight? I wish I'd have said straight. But Pete makes me happy. He makes me forget about my opinion of myself, he treats me perfectly. He never rushes me into anything, he holds me close and whispers sweet everythings in my ear.

I'm not camp. And I don't know how I became the 'girl' in this relationship. I'm, what has been described as, 'cute', 'young', 'kind' and all those things. Pete is hot, kind of sporty and the kind of guy a girl would want to fuck. They just hug me because I'm 'adorable'. So of course this makes Pete more masculine than me. Maybe I was meant to be gay... I mean, I couldn't imagine being protective over a girl. Or being the jock-type guy that holds her against my body and punches any guy that looks at her funny. Hell, they'd be protecting me. I'm a wimp.

He kisses me. I kiss him back, placing my hand at the back of his neck, like a woman would her boyfriend. It's only a little one, but it's enough to make Pete fall on me, propping himself above me, hovering. I want his body on mine. I place my hands on his back and pull him down. The kiss is intensified, his fingers search my body slowly as he begins undoing my shirt.

He starts from the top, landing a sweet kiss as more of my body become exposed, like a cat chasing a mouse. He undoes my second button, kissing my chest below it. The fourth one, the fifth, the sixth. His lips on my stomach, a tongue glides across it, back over my chest and returns to my lips. I tug at his shirt, pulling it eagerly over his head. I throw my lips onto his bare chest, daring myself to kiss a nipple.

"Nic?" a knock on the door.

"SHIT!" I whisper loudly, pushing Pete off away from me. "Uhh, yeah?"

THUD. "OW!"

"Is everything okay in there?" It's my mom.

Pete stands from the floor. I accidentally threw him off the bed completely.

I wince an apology at him before quickly replying to my mom. "Yeah, everything's fine, are you okay?" I grab Pete's shirt and throw It on as I run to the door, not wanting her to be suspicious.

"Oh, sweetie. What was that noise?" she peeks into my room.

"Uh, it was--"

"Me." Pete smiles, joining us in the doorway. Wearing my shirt. "I, um, fell off the bed," he chuckles nervously.

"Whilst I was on the computer!" I jump in, not wanting her to think we were together on the bed.

"Boys, you don't have to lie to me. So, you were together, it's fine" she smiles, shaking her head.

I look straight down at the floor. Tears nearly well up in my eyes.

"Dinner is nearly ready boys, you may want to start coming down," she places a hand on my shoulder before turning away.

"Thank you, Mrs Turner" Pete smiles as she descends the stairway. He closes the door and pulls me in for a hug straight away. "Nic, don't panic!"

Too late. "Oh my god!" I groan into his chest. "Oh my fuck, shit!" I can't handle stuff like this. But this is the second time it has happened, and Pete helps me through it pretty well.

"Okay, Nic, it's fine. She didn't mind, she was smiling, it's fine. Shh," he whispers gently, rubbing my back. "you're not crying, are you?"

I shake my head. "No," My voice is muffle by his, my, shirt.

Another reason I hate being gay. If I was with a girl in here... I wouldn't have reacted like this.