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I never thought I’d find myself sitting on Baz Pitch’s floor, but here we are. I only came over to work on a school project we’d been assigned together, but then the weather decided it had other plans. The snowfall has been going on all day and is seemingly endless, and nobody can go anywhere. I’m trapped in the Pitch house indefinitely.
We already finished the school project, and now Baz is telling me about a book he’s reading. We’re both sitting on the floor in his room, surrounded by cardboard and paper we used for our presentation. Baz’s whole room smells like he does, and he has a lot of books and a violin. He’s not the same person at home that he is in school. He’s nicer, and not as tough. Less intimidating. But he still makes me nervous. Around him it becomes harder than usual for me to speak. And yet, I’m kind of glad we’re snowed in.
I wonder why Baz decided to show me this side of him. He could’ve kept me out of his room, he could've held on to his tough persona. But he didn’t. He finishes talking about the book and notices that I’m looking around the room and not at him.
“I’m sorry if I’m boring you” he says.
“You’re not” I respond. “I just noticed your violin. I didn’t know you played.”
The faintest blush forms on his cheeks.
“I don’t really tell people that. And I’m not that good” he mumbles.
“Oh come on, can’t you play something for me? Please?” I plead. He blushes more.
“No I’m really not that good…”
“Pleeeaaaaase?”
He sighs.
“Okay. But you’re dead if you tell anyone.”
“What, that you play violin?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Just don’t.”
“I won’t.”
Baz messes up a few times while playing, and whispers “fuck” under his breath before resuming. He seems embarrassed, but I’m still impressed. I don’t mind the misses, I could never play an instrument. I actually kind of like the mess-ups, they make him seem human. He puts the violin down, and I give him a short applause. He blushes, and mumbles “shut up”, but he smiles.
He sits down next to me on the bed, and it makes my stomach feel weird. Why am I still nervous around him despite finding out that he’s nice? I brush it off.
“Hey” I begin. “Why don’t you want people to know that you play the violin? I think it’s cool.” He looks down at his hands in his lap, hesitating to answer.
“I guess I’m scared of what people might think” he responds.
“Why wouldn’t they like it? It’s a nice talent” I say. Baz sighs.
“I think so too, but I don’t think the popular kids would agree” he admits. “They only like me because I pretend to be all tough and cool.” I look at him.
“If you’re just pretending to be those things, what are you really like?” I ask.
He doesn’t respond immediately.
“Well, I actually do like football and that stuff” he says “but I also like books, and I work really hard in school, and I play the violin… I’m really not that tough.”
“But those aren’t bad things” I argue. “That’s just who you are.”
“Imagine what the guys would say if they knew I play violin. It’s not exactly a very manly instrument. They’d call me gay, and they wouldn’t want to be friends with me” he claims.
“Then I think they’re pretty shitty friends. Penny wouldn’t stop being my friend if she thought I was gay. Besides, being gay isn’t bad” I respond. He looks down at the floor.
“I know. But I want to keep my friends” he says.
“Why? Wouldn’t you want friends who know you and like you anyway?” I ask. Baz sighs.
“I’m scared I wouldn’t find any if I tried that” he confesses.
“I can be your friend” I offer. He smiles.
“Thank you.”
Baz’s mum comes in to the room when we’re playing video games and informs us that the snow hasn't stopped and that I’m going to have to stay overnight. She says that she’s called my parents and that they said it was okay.
My stomach feels weird again when I think about sleeping over here. It’s kind of fluttery, and I don’t know why.
Despite hardly talking to Baz before we got assigned this project, we stay up late talking about everything and anything. And the whole time, I still feel a little nervous. When Baz laughs at my jokes, my chest aches a little bit.
“Hey Baz, why did you let me see you like this?” I ask.
“What do you mean?” he asks back, confused.
“Why didn’t you pretend to be tough?” I elaborate.
“I don’t know” he admits. “I think I felt like I could trust you.”
That makes my chest ache again. I’m so confused, but I know that I’m happy.
It’s still snowing outside, but a nightlight fills the room with a warm yellow light and the snowy window only makes the room cosier. My eyes and my body are tired, but it’s in the cosy and soft way, and my head is still clear. Baz and I are still sitting on the bed, but now we’re leaning against the wall with our knees pulled up. Baz is telling me a story about his sister, but I can barely hear what he’s saying. He looks tired too, but he’s smiling. His hair is falling into his face, and he laughs at his own story when he finishes it. His laugh makes me smile too, despite missing the whole story. He runs a hand through his hair and his shoulder brushes mine, and I feel it in my stomach. My cheeks heat up, and I think that I maybe know why I’ve been so nervous the whole time.
“Baz” I half-whisper.
“Yeah?” he responds.
“Do you think you’ve ever….” I begin, but I struggle to finish the sentence. Baz waits patiently.
“Do you think you’ve ever liked a boy? Like, like liked?” I stammer. Baz looks down and away from me for a few seconds, but then faces me again to answer.
“Yeah” he confesses quietly. I feel twice as nervous as I have this whole time.
“Have you?” he asks, just as quietly. I nervously tug at the end of my shirt.
“Yeah” I mumble, avoiding eye contact. “I think so.”
“Who was it?” Baz asks. I feel how my face heats up even more, and I’m sure Baz can tell.
“You” I whisper, and it’s barely louder than a breath. Baz blushes too.
“Good” he breathes, “because I think I like you too.”
He grabs my hand, and my heart skips a beat.
“I’m nervous” I whisper.
“Me too” he responds. “But it’s kind of nice.”
I nod. It’s definitely a good kind of nervous.