Chris

You always thought Chris, your brother's best friend, was gay. All your girlfriends were sure of it. He was too well-groomed, too patient, not like other guys. And you relished discussing this theory, especially when he and your brother were at practice.

One day, your brother was running late, and Chris arrived at your house early. Unaware he was already inside, you were talking loudly on the phone in your room.

"Yeah, he totally is, one hundred percent!" you laughed into the receiver. "Just look at him! Perfect hair, perfect clothes, a total zero with girls. It's textbook. My brother obviously knows, but they've been friends since childhood, so he just turns a blind eye."

You heard the front door slam shut. "Brother's home," you thought and continued. A minute later, your bedroom door opened without a knock.

It wasn't your brother standing in the doorway. It was Chris. His face was like stone, his eyes burning with an anger you'd never seen in him before. You froze with the phone to your ear, listening to your friend on the other end ask, "Hey, why did you go quiet?"

"Hang up," Chris said quietly, but with absolute clarity.

You mechanically ended the call. Silence hung thick in the room.

"I… I didn't know you were already here," you began, feeling your face burn.

"I gathered that," he cut you off, taking a step into the room. He didn't look angry in the usual way; he looked deeply, personally insulted. "I'm tired of it, you get that? Tired of the looks, the whispers behind my back. And especially tired of hearing it from you. You never even asked, just decided and started spreading that nonsense to everyone."

"I didn't mean to…" you tried to justify yourself, but he interrupted you, pulling his t-shirt over his head.

"There's only one way I can prove I'm not gay," he said, his voice dropping to a quiet, dangerous tone. His eyes locked on yours. "Take your clothes off."