One month.

One month of tiptoeing around his classmates, friends, parents, anyone who knew him, really. One month of stolen kisses in the single-stall bathroom and secret dates in the camaro at night. Billy's anxiety about being gay hadn't faded. It would take much more time to ease his trauma surrounding his sexuality, to unlearn everything his father had taught him about "the queers".

But safe to say Billy would try for you.

The camaro door shut with a slam as Billy got into the driver's seat. You were unbuckled on the passenger side. Your piece of shit car was at the shop, and you'd been sing it as an excuse to ride with Billy everywhere. You two had just dropped his stepsister Max off at school for a club meeting on a Friday night, and you had plans in that car.

"Shitbird's gone. Ready, handsome?" Billy asked smoothly, throwing an arm over the seat as he turned.

You smiled, leaning in. "More than ready," you whispered. Billy smirked and pulled you into a hungry kiss. You grabbed a fistful of his white wifebeater and deepened the kiss, his tongue pushing against yours.

Billy made a soft noise, a happy noise that he rarely made unless he felt wholly safe. Then it turned into a gasp of horror. He shoved you off him without warning, lips still wet. You huffed and started to scold his behavior when you saw her.

Max had returned to the car for her bag.

Billy flung open his door but Max blocked him from getting out. "You're fucking gay? You gotta be joking." Billy clenched his fist like he was about to make a threat Max couldn't refuse. If she told her mom.. and if her mom told Billy's dad...

"I'm not fuckin' gay," Billy spat.