Betts stands, walks over, and makes like he’s going to sit on my lap. I laugh, because I just told him I got raped and what’s the first thing he does? Invade my space. “Plastic chair, dude,” I say. He stands and he lifts me up by my shoulders, and he hugs me tight. “I’m sorry, dude.” Zay-Rod joins our little huddle. It is, sex included, the most intimate moment of my life. They hold me tight, and I just close my eyes and breathe, thinking how glad I am they’re my buddies, and wondering why I was ever afraid to tell them.
