51 Robin Is No Stranger to Drama

August 15th

I was so conflicted!

On the one hand, there was absolutely no way I wasn't about to watch this drama unfold between Lucas and Armand. They were making such intense eye contact. Lucas was standing at the side of the room and, despite the bedroom eyes, seemed hilariously cool about all this. Armand fidgeted, slumped, stuttered, and fiddled obnoxiously with his pencil, but no one could say he looked anything short of sex on a stick. There was magic in the air, and somehow everyone could tell. Mine wasn't the only head swiveling back and forth between these two.

But on the other hand, standing next to Lucas was ... Skyler. Amused smile on his lips. Hands in his pockets. Silky black locks falling gently in front of beautiful blue eyes.

He was watching the mini spectacle that was Armand and Lucas as well, but he was also sneaking glances at me. I gripped the edge of my seat and forced myself not to run.

Again.

The thought of facing Skyler since our last "conversation" was making Armand's crisis croissants threaten to reappear. I was in the front row; I could make a run for the exits by the stage.

But that would mean missing the final act of this stupid, sad, explicitly gay remake of The Odd Couple.

Be brave, Robin! Or if that fails, be nosy!

The non-Armand panelists said some stuff, and then the audience QA started. Armand was doing a surprisingly good job of fielding questions. Sure, he was sweating a little, but the more questions he took, the more coherent his answers became. He and the other panelists had clearly recognized some deep kinship with each other and had begun discussing the very nature of Art, and the audience loved it. Armand was still Armand and reluctant to talk—but when he did, there was a self-deprecating charm that had replaced the miasma of resentful self-loathing. He almost sounded dignified. Like he actually wanted to be here and was having fun. He even kept his cool when Lucas asked a question.

I couldn't help thinking back to that first, burningly awkward lecture he'd given at the start of the workshop. The difference was astounding. I felt like a proud mama bird watching their offspring fly confidently toward an invisible jet turbine.

After a while, the moderator took it upon himself to make sure some of the other panelists had an opportunity to answer questions from the audience before the time was up. Armand slumped back in his seat and covered his eyes for a few moments as if to catch his breath. But then he found Lucas's gaze again and those two made sweet, sweet eyeball love for all the world to see.

The panel ended with thunderous applause, and Armand shot to his feet. He started for the stairs that led off the stage, but a whole pack of eager fans barred his path, and even more of them were inadvertently blocking Lucas's. Oh no, I couldn't take this anymore.

I got up, raised both hands and said in a loud voice, "Out of the way, out of the way! Ladies and gentlemen, please make way for Mr. Demetrio and his roommate, clear the stairs, now ladies and gentlemen! Everybody move!"

Amazingly, they actually listened to me, and Armand made it down the stairs without impediment. Lucas managed to push to the front of the crowd, and in classic meet-cute fashion, neither of them quelled their momentum in time and they crashed into each other pretty spectacularly.

Luckily, Lucas's camera and Armand's cane were tucked away and they didn't do anything as silly as bonk heads. Armand gripped Lucas's shoulders to steady them both, and they stared into each other's eyes for about twenty seconds longer than was comfortable for the rest of us.

Armand eventually seemed to come to his senses and let go of Lucas, color rising rapidly to his face. "Errmhmm ... er, hi." He coughed.

Lucas, for his part, had never stopped grinning and didn't so much speak as chuckle in response. "Hi! Finally."

Armand swallowed and tried unsuccessfully to stuff one of his hands into the pockets of his very tight jeans. Again. "Yeah, finally. Eheh." He seemed to have realized they were still surrounded by people, and was looking around anxiously as if hoping they would just disappear. Ha, as if they would, when he and Lucas were giving us all such a good show.

Sure enough, the crowd that had initially gathered had maintained its size and a surprising level of silence while watching the star-crossed roommates.

Despite the crowd, Armand couldn't seem to keep the next bit down. "I wasn't sure you were coming. I thought maybe ... after last night ..."

"I wasn't sure either." Lucas's eyelashes fluttered shyly, and he bit his lip, likely killing Armand. He added a final nail to the coffin: "How's the foot?"

Armand glanced down and gripped his cane tighter, his face turning a rather impressive shade of burgundy. "Oh, er, fine. Erm." He looked around again at their audience. "Um, would you like to find somewhere more p-private? To ... to talk?"

"That sounds absolutely— Oh hey!" Lucas had caught sight of me. "Robin! You were right about the accent, ooh and the awkward grumpy bear: totally worth it." He reached out a hand toward me and god help me, I high-fived it. At least partially just to see the look on Armand's face, but he was busy giving Skyler a very British hello nod.

Skyler.

Skyler who had said hello to Armand and was now staring at me. I quickly turned my attention back to the other two.

"Would you like to, er, food? I mean, get dinner?" Armand was once again, somehow, without the slightest hint of game, managing to charm Lucas—and the rest of us—directly out of our pants.

"There's a sweet little Japanese place downtown I've been wanting to check out," Lucas said. "I'll buy dinner if you promise to order anything other than Ramen."

Armand laughed at that, and next thing I knew, they were making their way out of the convention hall, the sea of fans parting as if they were a pair of gay Moseses.

Skyler, however, had stayed put.

And so had I.

He was trying to get me to meet his eye, but I was far more interested in the floor. It was a shiny floor. I liked it—I could study it for a good hour.

I couldn't look at Skyler. Not without getting smacked in the face by the same realization over and over again. That Armand had been right.

That what I'd done was unforgivable. And that I'd known it all along.

I'd reduced this beautiful, kind, sweet, sweet man to ... a crush. Well, not so much a crush, more like the love of my life, actually, but still. I'd been so caught up in the idea that he didn't see me the way I wanted him to—as a love interest, not a sidekick—that I'd blown any chance for any relationship we might have had.

Finally, his sneaker came into view and nudged the toe of my Converse. "Robin?"

I looked up at him, one arm wrapped around my middle and the other twisted awkwardly behind me. "Yeah." Then before he could say anything else I blurted, "I'm sorry."

"What?"

I shut my eyes tight. "I'm sorry I ran away after you came out to me. That was an awful, horrible thing to do, like, literally the worst thing in the world. And I don't want you to think that I don't want to be your friend, because I do want to be your friend. Problem is, I want to be more than a friend but that's my problem not yours and—"

"Robin."

I opened my eyes. He was almost smiling. "Yeah?"

"Take a walk with me?" He inclined his head to the side.

I chewed on my lip. "'Kay."

He started out of the convention hall, glancing back at me over his shoulder.

After a moment, I followed him out of the hall and into the convention gardens. There were fewer people out here because it was late afternoon in the middle of August and there was air conditioning indoors, but Skyler seemed intent on finding a private, intimate place for this conversation to happen.

Like, oh, I don't know, a stone bench under a pair of flowering Jacaranda trees. Because that wasn't romantic and picturesque and fuck me, right?

Except ... not. Obviously.

Skyler sat down on the bench and patted the seat next to him, giving me a hopeful little smile. God, I was such an asshole.

I shifted uncomfortably for a moment before setting myself on the bench. I clasped my hands in my lap and didn't look at him.

Skyler sighed. "Robin, about what happened last night—"

"I'm really so sorry about that," I cut him off. "Really, we— I can leave now and never—"

"Robin."

I forced my mouth shut and stared at him wide-eyed, feeling my face slowly transform into a tomato.

Skyler bit his lip. "Please let me say this." He watched me for a bit, like he was waiting for me to calm down. Which was not going to happen. He seemed to realize that and kept going. "Just because I don't feel physical or romantic attraction for you right now doesn't necessarily mean I never will."

"Huh." My heart was pounding in my temples, in my throat, in my everywhere. I gripped the fabric of my kneepads and tried to remember to keep breathing.

He twisted his fingers in his lap. I wanted to take them. I wanted to take his hand, possibly more than anything I'd ever wanted ever. Then he reached over and took mine.

He. Took. My. Hand.

My face caught fire and I stopped breathing.

"Are you okay?" Skyler asked.

I nodded vigorously, wishing that I wasn't such a freak. "Yes, of course, why wouldn't I be? You've only ever been honest with me, and you don't owe me anything, and I'm such an idiot—"

"I really do want to be your friend," he said again, crushing every last sliver of my heart, "but I know you want me to be something else. And ... I'm not sure I don't want that too. I like you. I do. I don't want to make any promises that I might not be able to keep. But ..." His eyes hovered on my lips. "Maybe things can be different. Maybe it would mean I'm growing up."

What was happening?

Skyler swallowed. "Would it be okay if I kissed you?"