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    Dear Diary
    Dear Diary
    Dear Diary
    Ebook87 pages1 hour

    Dear Diary

    By Allison Cassatta

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    About this ebook

    Dear Diary: Book One

    Chris Bishop has everything a high school senior could want—a loving family, a perfect girlfriend, and a bright, shining future. At his dad’s suggestion, he spends a summer working at a law firm to gain experience, but he never bargained on meeting Josh. Josh is handsome and green-eyed and just what Chris doesn’t want—or does he? Some things Chris has admitted only to his digital diary, but by the time prom comes around, he needs to make a decision: risk the pain of honesty about himself and his feelings for Josh, or play it safe and lose what matters most.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDreamspinner Press
    Release dateMay 8, 2013
    ISBN9781623805715
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      Book preview

      Dear Diary - Allison Cassatta

      you!

      Chapter One

      DEAR Diary, I finally admitted to myself that I’m…. Chris paused and looked down at the digital recorder in his hands. It’d taken a lot of internal monologue and a whole ton of arguing with himself to get there, but he’d finally come to terms with his sexual identity. It was the one truth he hadn’t known about himself, the one piece of the puzzle he never knew was missing.

      I am gay, he said matter-of-factly, as if that one little statement wouldn’t and couldn’t change his life at all, as if those three little words came with no consequence and no pain.

      Yeah. He nodded slowly. Yeah, I’m gay.

      He couldn’t believe he’d finally admitted that out loud. He’d been out of the closet in a roundabout sort of way for a while now, but he’d never actually said the big G word to anyone, not even himself. Rolling the word around in his head wasn’t so bad, but rolling it off his tongue seemed to take a hell of a lot more effort.

      I’m in love with a dude. He snorted out a little laugh. I… I love Josh.

      An acoustic Staind song played at a low volume in the background. The music from the stereo barely drowned out the sounds of different voices on the other side of the door and his little sister chasing the dog up and down the hallway outside his bedroom.

      The only light in the room came from a nightstand lamp—one with a Chicago Bears shade his father had picked out for him about a year ago—back when Chris spent his Sundays on the couch next to his pops, watching football games and arguing over who was the better player; back before his new friend began to occupy his every waking second.

      Just beside the lamp was a digital alarm clock he’d had since junior high. It always made sure he got his butt in gear on time, and right now, it flashed 12:00 p.m. in bright red numbers. In a mere six hours, he would be on his way to his senior prom.

      But before he could take that big rite of passage and step off into manhood with his head high, there was a lot he needed to get off his chest, a lot he needed to say and things he needed to admit. After all, the prom was supposed to be like stepping over the threshold of life, right? First formal dance. First big fling without his mom and dad to hold his hand. It made perfect sense—in his mind—to tell the tale of summer romance before moving on.

      His tux hung from a hook on the back of the bedroom door—the jacket without tails he’d picked out because it was simple and sleek. It looked good with his narrow shoulders and slim waist; the deep-blue vest and tie his mother had chosen because she said they would look amazing with his bright blue eyes. Shiny, freshly polished dress shoes waited in a box on top of his chest of drawers.

      Squaring his shoulders, he pushed up from the edge of the mattress where he’d been sitting since he’d gotten out of the shower. He still had his towel around his waist. Droplets of cool water clung to his tanned chest. A few even dripped from his hair and rolled down his chin.

      It was the silent time he’d spent in the shower that made him decide to finally put all his thoughts out there, even if only his ears would ever hear the story. The tale he would record into that little device would serve to remind him of how he’d come to this point, how he’d finally found himself and the person who had helped him through it all, just in case he forgot. Not that he believed for one second he would ever forget Josh.

      He went to the dresser and pulled out a fresh pair of boxers, blue—just like the rest of his outfit. The idea that he’d actually coordinated his underwear to his vest and tie made him laugh. For a second, he wondered if he’d ever done that before. Did he ever really care about matching underwear or socks that weren’t white?

      Brushing the towel from his waist over his body, he wiped away as much of the remaining water as he could. It still left his skin moist, and he almost preferred walking around in his birthday suit as opposed to having thin cotton cling to his legs, but with the commotion going on right outside his bedroom door, hanging out bare-ass naked probably wasn’t the smartest idea.

      He set the recorder on top of his chest of drawers, right next to the box with his dress shoes, the stick of deodorant, and the bottle of cologne. He said, So yeah, I’ve embraced it. I’m okay with being gay now. Josh has shown me so much in the— He silently counted out the time since he’d first laid eyes on Josh. While it felt like only yesterday, many more days and weeks and months had passed. —eight months I’ve known him.

      He spoke with unbreakable resolve into the digital recorder his parents had given him last Christmas. He’d meant to use it for his more difficult classes. That’s why he’d asked for it, anyway; instead it had become an audio journal of sorts, an electronic time capsule of things he found funny or stuff he didn’t want to forget about. He’d already confided a few fun little tales, but this story—it would be the most meaningful, most important story he would ever tell.

      Josh taught me more about myself in eight months than I’d learned in my life.

      Chris turned to the floor-length mirror hanging on his wall, lifted his chin, and tilted his head to the left then to the right as he stared at his reflection. He carefully examined every single inch of the man staring back at him—from the tops of his brown, towel-dried spiky hair to the subtle hints of stubble beginning to darken his cheeks, all the way down to the long legs that afforded him an all-star role on the track team and an athletic scholarship to the college he’d chosen. He had to admit, he was pretty damn proud of himself, and that wasn’t an ego trip. Everything in his

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