I spend most of Sunday night rolling over and over in my bed, staring at the ceiling, staring out the window, trying to think of what I’m going to say to Ben when I see him at school. I manage to come up with a few good lines about how one night with Garen made me realize I want to spend every night with Ben, or how I’m willing to forgive his transgressions with Alex if he’ll forgive mine with Garen, but as soon as I picture the face he made when he found out I’d kissed Garen, all of my thoughts leave me.
The truth is, I don’t deserve to be forgiven. It tore a hole in my chest to see my boyfriend kissing Alex, but even under the burning shade of jealousy, I know he doesn’t love Alex. At least, not like Alex loves him. On the other hand… Ben has no idea what to believe about my feelings for Garen. How can he? I don’t even know how I feel about him. Loathing and lust and regret and jealousy form a toxic – and fucking confusing – mixture when forced together, and I can’t prepare myself to confront that particular strain of thought yet.
When my alarm clock chimes to wake me, I slog to the bathroom to get ready. The heat of the shower puts some color back in my skin, but I still have dark circles under my eyes when I trudge down to the kitchen, where Mom is scooping scrambled eggs out onto plates.
“Morning,” I say groggily.
“Good morning, Travis. I’m about to head out for work, but I wanted to make sure you and your sister both had nice breakfasts for your first day back at school. Is Benjamin picking you up? There’s enough for him, too, if he’d like to say,” Mom offers.
I can tell she thinks she’s being generous by inviting him to join me, which just makes my necessary reply sting a little more. “No, he’s not picking me up. We’re… I don’t know. We’re just going to see each other at school, I guess.”
Her brow crinkles. “Have you two had a fight? Are you breaking—”
“I don’t wanna talk about it, Mom, okay?” I interrupt. “We’re still going out, we just aren’t riding to school together. Jesus Christ.”
Rather than chastise me for taking the Lord’s name in vain, as she usually might, she frowns down at her briefcase. “Is Bree going to drive you, then?”
What she really means, I guess, is, I’m not at all comfortable with the idea of you and Garen alone in a car together. But I’m in a giving mood, so I say, “No. I’m pretty sure she already left. Maybe I’ll just ask Garen to bring me. It’s not like he’s got anything to do besides sleep all day. Just my luck that, of the two hundred people who are supposed to be graduating from LHS this year, my brother had to be the one who’s not.”
Mom lights up like Christmas at that. “Yes. Yes, it’s a shame that your brother missed so much school this year.” It’s almost sick how excited she gets at the idea of me thinking of Garen as a sibling, not an ex-boyfriend. “Well, I really do need to get going. I’ll see you tonight, dear.”
She plants a kiss, which I try to shrug away from, on my forehead and sails out the door. I scarf down a few mouthfuls of eggs, swallow my medicine, and dart upstairs to bang on Garen’s bedroom door. “Garen, wake up. Mom says you need to drive me to school. And considering it’s your fault my boyfriend won’t talk to me, let alone drive me anywhere, you don’t get to object.”
“Alright, alright,” Garen grumbles from the other side. “I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes, just let me put some clothes on.”
I very pointedly do not picture him getting dressed as I head back to my room. The contents of my backpack are scattered from my half-hearted attempts to study, and by the time I gather everything up, I can hear Garen brushing his teeth in the bathroom down the hall. I trudge out to the porch to wait for him. Almost five minutes later, when I’m starting to get pretty impatient, the front door bangs open.
“You’re damn lucky I went up to New York on Saturday, otherwise my car would still be in the Patton seniors’ parking lot. Then you’d be screwed,” Garen says, almost gleefully. I turn to glare at him, but my retort gets caught in my throat when I see his face.
“What happened to you?” I demand. He blinks at me.
“What do you mean?” he asks. I reach out to touch his face, and he dodges me, jogging over to the Ferrari.
“I mean you’re hurt,” I say, clambering into the passenger seat.
Garen frowns at me, then tilts the rear-view mirror so that he can examine the barely-healed gash dividing his lower lip. “Oh, right. I forgot about that. I went to the grocery store last night to pick up iced tea mix, and on the way home, somebody’s cat ran out in front of my car. I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt, so when I stomped on the brakes to avoid it, I got thrown forward and smacked my mouth on the steering wheel.” He smiles wryly. “I’m an idiot, I know.”
“So, I’m supposed to believe that you started dating your abusive ex-boyfriend again, and then just happened to get a split lip two days later?” I demand. “I call bullshit.”
Garen snorts and twists around to check for traffic as he backs the car out of the driveway. “I don’t really care if you believe me, Travis. I’m always forgetting to buckle my seat belt. Ask my dad, I’ve gotten banged up like a dozen times because of it.”
“So? Maybe you just keep recycling the same excuses whenever Dave smacks you around. You told me you wanted him to hit you.”
“No, you just keep reading too much into everything. Anyway, would it even be that big of a deal if he did hit me? You’ve gotta get out of this hetero mindset, man. If a guy punches his girlfriend, he’s slime. He’s an asshole, he’s wrong, no matter what. There’s nothing a girl can say that will justify a guy hitting her. But if a guy’s punching his boyfriend… it’s not the same. It’s not that big of a deal,” Garen says with a shrug. I stare at him. He can’t really believe that, can he? But his face seems pretty neutral, like he really doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with the words coming out of his freshly-punched mouth.
“Abuse is abuse, Garen. It doesn’t matter if it’s physical or psychological or verbal, or if it’s in a straight relationship or a gay one. It’s not okay to hit someone you’re dating,” I say finally. Garen laughs a little.
“Do you even know how many fights I’ve been in? Dozens. Hundreds, probably. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m always pissing somebody off, ‘cause I’m annoying as fuck. So yeah, sometimes guys’ll punch me for it, but it’s not like it matters, because nine out of ten times, I’ll still win the fight. And sometimes the guys I’m dating or sleeping with or whatever will be the ones who punch me. It doesn’t mean anything. Sometimes I deserve it.”
“No, you don’t,” I say forcefully. “You deserve way better—”
“So, what, would you still be saying this if I had hit you when we were dating? Even if you were shooting your mouth off and completely deserved it?” Garen asks. For a moment, I am thrown. It’s impossible to picture him actually trying to start a fight with me – a physical one, anyway. There’s no way to reconcile a fist-fight with the way he used to touch me.
“If you had ever hit me when we were dating, it would’ve been the last time I ever let you touch me. Because I may think I’m shit… I may think I’m worthless. But I wouldn’t want to date someone who thought that lowly of me,” I say. He lets out a little irritated sigh, and we finish the ride in silence. He only speaks again when I’m out of the car and about to slam the door shut.
“You should get a ride home from one of your friends. I’m meeting Dave later.”
I twist back to look at him, and he stares back at me with blank, dead eyes. I shiver involuntarily. “Yeah. I guess I can do that.”
He peels out of the parking lot the second I’ve shut the door. Once he’s out of sight, I have to turn my attention to my other big catastrophe; I square my shoulders and head inside to meet Ben.
He’s waiting at my locker, sitting on the floor with a thick textbook on his lap. For once, he’s not wearing a hoodie; while most people have accommodated for the warmer weather with t-shirts and shorts, Ben has simply switched to a white, long-sleeved shirt under a dark blue t-shirt advertising a Chopin concert in the park from a few years ago. I wonder if he played in it. I wonder if I’m allowed to ask.
“Hi,” I say, and he jumps, but still takes a few seconds to look up at me.
“Hi,” he says. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Yeah, I uh… I just got here. A-Are you studying for a test?” I ask. He shakes his heads and moves as if to stand. I quickly extend a hand to help him the rest of the way to his feet, and he lets slip a tiny smile.
“No, I’m just trying to start reviewing for final exams. They start in two weeks, and I’ve got a lot of shit to memorize,” he says. Of course. Two weeks until his exams, a month until he graduates, just a few months until he heads off to Juilliard. Why is it that whenever I get a boyfriend, he disappears to New York? Shifting nervously, he adds, “So… we should probably talk about the party, I guess.”
Before I can take the time to actually compose my thoughts, my mouth pops open and a flood of words tumbles out. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed Garen, especially after I promised you nothing was going to happen. It was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done, and it just… I don’t want to say, ‘It just happened,’ because I know it was a choice. But while it was happening, it was like I knew it was wrong, and I knew it was a shitty decision, but I couldn’t stop myself. And I think part of me just wanted to know, you know, if it’d be like it was before.”
“Was it?” Ben asks.
“No,” I say quietly. “Not at all. It wasn’t good. There was so much missing, and whatever I had with Garen, however important it was at the time? It’s not there anymore. He’s a different person, and so am I, and I’m glad. Because you’re the only person I want to be with, and I know that what I did was shitty, but I’m hoping you can forgive me anyway.”
Ben shifts his eyes to the floor. “I do. And… look, you shouldn’t have to feel guilty for having a history with some other guy. I shouldn’t make you feel guilty for it, especially since I’ve got a past, too. And kissing Alex at the party meant nothing. You know that. I was just, I wanted to hurt you, I wanted to make you feel like I felt, knowing you’d kissed Garen. It was the only thing I could think of. It sucked. I’m sorry.”
I reach out and wrap an arm around him, drawing him forward against my chest. We both exhale at once, melting together as the tension of our situation diffuses. One of these days, I’ll probably have to address the fact that Alex actually does like him. But right now, it’s not my secret to tell, and it’s not my real concern. Right now, all I want to do is touch him.
“I love you,” I whisper. He burrows into my arms, and I press my smiling lips to the top of his head.
After that, everything is easy. At least, easier. The next several days of school pass quickly and simply; five of my classes are Advanced Placements with exams timed to coincide with the senior finals, so most of my teachers are just trying to cram in some last minute facts before we all become buried under the weight of study guides and notebook checks. Even though I’ve been the widely acknowledged shoe-in for next year’s valedictorian since the first day of high school, I still can’t really bring myself to pay attention. With just a few days left to go before finals, some of my teachers actually give up and just assign us a study hall.
At this point, I couldn’t give a fuck about school, because life is actually going well for me; Ben and I have returned to the blissfully content way we were before Garen returned, Mom is actually being pleasant now that she’s deluded herself into believing that Garen and I were only ever friends, and Garen is actually being normal. He isn’t doing lines of cocaine in the kitchen. He isn’t trying to sabotage my relationship. He isn’t throwing big parties whenever our parents leave the house. He isn’t flirting with me, or giving me those horrible, aching looks he used to.
The real problem with my life, I realize during my Calc-class-turned-study-hall last period on Thursday, is that the calm is always followed by a big, ridiculous storm. I should have expected these past few pleasant, average days to culminate in something heartbreaking or humiliating. And the universe is all too willing to oblige, apparently, because the school loudspeaker suddenly crackles to life.
“—is not for student use! Return to class immediately!”
“Attention, everyone!” Wait… is that Alex?
“Oh my God, you are not doing this—” Ben? What the fuck is going on?
“Ow, McCutcheon, get off of—”
“Put it down, Alex! I swear—”
“—be disciplined severely!”
“My friend here – everyone knows my friend, Ben, right? Ben McCutcheon? He’s a senior? He’s the short one, with the eyeliner! And those lame-ass hoodies. Yeah, my friend has something he wants to say—”
“No, I don’t! Put it the fuck down!”
“Detention! Detention for both of you!”
“Hey, Travis! Travis, are you listening?” My head snaps up, and everyone in the room turns, almost in unison, to stare at me.
“Alex, stop it! This isn’t cool, you—”
“—an outrage! Never in all my—”
“Jesus, Ben, stop hitting me!”
“Turn off the fucking speaker!”
“Alexander! Benjamin!”
“Travis, will you go to prom with Ben?”
Silence.
“I can’t believe you just did that. You’re the worst friend I’ve ever had in my life.”
“Someday, when you and Travis move to Vermont to get married, you’ll be thanking me for it.”
“Not if he says he won’t go with me! God, Al, I just told you I thought he’d say no if I asked him, and I didn’t bring that up so that you’d—”
“Um, Ben, the speaker’s still on—”
“Shit, shit, shit—”
“Benjamin McCutcheon, that language will not be—”
“Fuck!”
And then the speaker finally clicks off. The laughter and applause that follows is almost deafening. People are clambering over seats to clap me on the back, and at least four girls immediately swoop over to demand to know my answer. Apparently, even Lakewood is willing to forget its homophobia when someone pulls a stunt as spectacular as that. By the time the bell rings, I’ve heard enormous lists of the pros and cons of accepting, and the only guy who suggested “because I’ll kick your ass if you do” as a con was booed by the people around me.
I take my time packing up my backpack at my locker, then make my way up to the senior hallway. Ben and Alex are nowhere to be seen, but Jeremy and Mason are both there, joking with each other, then cackling even more when they see me coming.
“If you’re looking for your boyfriend, he’s up at the main office,” Jeremy says, grinning at me.
Mason chuckles. “Yeah, they probably won’t even be allowed to go to prom, after that.”
“But if they are, what are you going to say?” Jeremy says, suddenly sobering. They both eye me warily, and I suddenly realize they must think I’m the least trustworthy person alive. Chasing Garen out of town… being a step away from a one-night stand with Alex… hurting Ben, over and over and over.
“Bite me, you guys,” I say, forcing a smile, “I think I can handle this on my own.”
Before they can band together and tie me down until I submit to more of their questioning, I turn on my heel and march up towards the main office. As promised, Ben and Alex are camped out on metal folding chairs in front of the office, sneaking looks at each other like chastised children in time-out.
“I can’t believe you two,” I say. Instead of grinning up at me guiltily, like Alex does, Ben buries his face in his hands.
“Oh my Jesus, go away, Travis. And like, never come back, or look at me, or think about this occasion,” he groans.
I laugh and reach out to card my fingers through his hair. “Stop being dramatic.”
“I wasn’t even planning to really ask you! Alex just—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Alex interrupts. “Alex just acted as the middleman for you two morons. God! First, I introduced you to the idea of hooking up with Travis by sucking his dick at the Love Sucks Party. Then, I convinced Travis to get his head out of his ass and actually ask you out after you guys made out. And now here I am, getting you two to go to prom together.”
Ben finally lifts his head enough to laugh at his friend, but I feel a vague churning of guilt in my stomach. However much he jokes about it, this must be infuriating for Alex. Every time he’s compelled by all his best-friend urges to help Ben out, it only drags the possibility of them being together further out of his reach. On the one hand, I feel like a homewrecking shitbag. On the other, Ben is my boyfriend. I curl my hand around the back of his neck and lean down to kiss him.
“You’re ridiculous, Ben. Of course I’ll go to prom with you,” I say.
For a moment, he sits there in stunned, thrilled silence. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously,” I say. His face splits into the widest, most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen, and I can’t stop myself from kissing him once more.
“McCutcheon, McCall! PDA is against the student code of conduct!” Principal Hammond barks from the doorway of his office. I’m sorely tempted to ignore him, but anything I do will probably just add to Ben and Alex’s punishment, so I step back quickly. “McCall… just go home already. I need to speak to your friends about their completely inappropriate actions.”
“If it helps you make your decision about how to react, Travis agreed to go with Ben,” Alex adds, and Ben shoots him a warning look. Principal Hammond scowls.
“Well, it remains to be seen if any of you will be permitted to attend after that little stunt. Travis. Go. Now.”
His voice makes it clear that he will not be telling me a third time. I offer Ben one last small smile and head outside into the warm April sunlight. I don’t have a ride home now, but it doesn’t matter; the weather is fantastic, and I’m feeling content enough not to mind walking home. My good mood lasts me all the way back to the house, and most of the way to my room. Halfway up the stairs, however, I realize that the house is eerily quiet. Garen’s car is in the driveway, but there’s no babbling from the TV downstairs, or streams of music coming from his bedroom.
I frown and pause outside to knock on his door. “Garen?”
There’s no reply, so I push open the door. His room is empty. It takes me a few seconds to realize that the light is on in the bathroom down the hall, though the door is open. I approach slowly. “Garen, are you in there?”
After a slight hesitation, he says, “Y-Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?”
I round the corner and freeze. No. No, no, no. Not again.
“Dave?” I ask, even though it’s not much of a question.
Garen’s hands tighten on the edge of the counter as he meets my gaze in the mirror. At least, as well as he can, with one eye swollen most of the way shut and hidden behind an angry-looking bruise. “Some guy in the Target parking lot almost hit my car. I got out to yell at him, and he flipped out on me.”
“Then explain why you look like you’re about to cry,” I demand. He snorts.
“I’m not going to cry. How much of a little bitch do you think I am?” he asks. I take a few steps towards him and hook a finger under his jaw to turn his face towards me. He lets me move his head, but stares at the ceiling instead of into my eyes. I’m more than willing to wait him out. For nearly five minutes, we just stand there, each of us waiting for the other to move.
And then, just when I’m starting to wonder if it’s pointless, a tear rolls down his cheek, leaving a trail from his black eye to his chin. He immediately drags the back of his hand over his face and turns back to face the mirror, glaring at himself. I’m stunned to see how furious he looks with himself, almost as stunned as I am to see that he actually is going to cry. This new vulnerability is something I hadn’t ever counted on.
“It’s fine, Travis,” he says, his voice gravelly and thick. “I can handle it.”
Of all the lies he’s ever told me, this one hurts the most.
The truth is, I don’t deserve to be forgiven. It tore a hole in my chest to see my boyfriend kissing Alex, but even under the burning shade of jealousy, I know he doesn’t love Alex. At least, not like Alex loves him. On the other hand… Ben has no idea what to believe about my feelings for Garen. How can he? I don’t even know how I feel about him. Loathing and lust and regret and jealousy form a toxic – and fucking confusing – mixture when forced together, and I can’t prepare myself to confront that particular strain of thought yet.
When my alarm clock chimes to wake me, I slog to the bathroom to get ready. The heat of the shower puts some color back in my skin, but I still have dark circles under my eyes when I trudge down to the kitchen, where Mom is scooping scrambled eggs out onto plates.
“Morning,” I say groggily.
“Good morning, Travis. I’m about to head out for work, but I wanted to make sure you and your sister both had nice breakfasts for your first day back at school. Is Benjamin picking you up? There’s enough for him, too, if he’d like to say,” Mom offers.
I can tell she thinks she’s being generous by inviting him to join me, which just makes my necessary reply sting a little more. “No, he’s not picking me up. We’re… I don’t know. We’re just going to see each other at school, I guess.”
Her brow crinkles. “Have you two had a fight? Are you breaking—”
“I don’t wanna talk about it, Mom, okay?” I interrupt. “We’re still going out, we just aren’t riding to school together. Jesus Christ.”
Rather than chastise me for taking the Lord’s name in vain, as she usually might, she frowns down at her briefcase. “Is Bree going to drive you, then?”
What she really means, I guess, is, I’m not at all comfortable with the idea of you and Garen alone in a car together. But I’m in a giving mood, so I say, “No. I’m pretty sure she already left. Maybe I’ll just ask Garen to bring me. It’s not like he’s got anything to do besides sleep all day. Just my luck that, of the two hundred people who are supposed to be graduating from LHS this year, my brother had to be the one who’s not.”
Mom lights up like Christmas at that. “Yes. Yes, it’s a shame that your brother missed so much school this year.” It’s almost sick how excited she gets at the idea of me thinking of Garen as a sibling, not an ex-boyfriend. “Well, I really do need to get going. I’ll see you tonight, dear.”
She plants a kiss, which I try to shrug away from, on my forehead and sails out the door. I scarf down a few mouthfuls of eggs, swallow my medicine, and dart upstairs to bang on Garen’s bedroom door. “Garen, wake up. Mom says you need to drive me to school. And considering it’s your fault my boyfriend won’t talk to me, let alone drive me anywhere, you don’t get to object.”
“Alright, alright,” Garen grumbles from the other side. “I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes, just let me put some clothes on.”
I very pointedly do not picture him getting dressed as I head back to my room. The contents of my backpack are scattered from my half-hearted attempts to study, and by the time I gather everything up, I can hear Garen brushing his teeth in the bathroom down the hall. I trudge out to the porch to wait for him. Almost five minutes later, when I’m starting to get pretty impatient, the front door bangs open.
“You’re damn lucky I went up to New York on Saturday, otherwise my car would still be in the Patton seniors’ parking lot. Then you’d be screwed,” Garen says, almost gleefully. I turn to glare at him, but my retort gets caught in my throat when I see his face.
“What happened to you?” I demand. He blinks at me.
“What do you mean?” he asks. I reach out to touch his face, and he dodges me, jogging over to the Ferrari.
“I mean you’re hurt,” I say, clambering into the passenger seat.
Garen frowns at me, then tilts the rear-view mirror so that he can examine the barely-healed gash dividing his lower lip. “Oh, right. I forgot about that. I went to the grocery store last night to pick up iced tea mix, and on the way home, somebody’s cat ran out in front of my car. I wasn’t wearing my seatbelt, so when I stomped on the brakes to avoid it, I got thrown forward and smacked my mouth on the steering wheel.” He smiles wryly. “I’m an idiot, I know.”
“So, I’m supposed to believe that you started dating your abusive ex-boyfriend again, and then just happened to get a split lip two days later?” I demand. “I call bullshit.”
Garen snorts and twists around to check for traffic as he backs the car out of the driveway. “I don’t really care if you believe me, Travis. I’m always forgetting to buckle my seat belt. Ask my dad, I’ve gotten banged up like a dozen times because of it.”
“So? Maybe you just keep recycling the same excuses whenever Dave smacks you around. You told me you wanted him to hit you.”
“No, you just keep reading too much into everything. Anyway, would it even be that big of a deal if he did hit me? You’ve gotta get out of this hetero mindset, man. If a guy punches his girlfriend, he’s slime. He’s an asshole, he’s wrong, no matter what. There’s nothing a girl can say that will justify a guy hitting her. But if a guy’s punching his boyfriend… it’s not the same. It’s not that big of a deal,” Garen says with a shrug. I stare at him. He can’t really believe that, can he? But his face seems pretty neutral, like he really doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with the words coming out of his freshly-punched mouth.
“Abuse is abuse, Garen. It doesn’t matter if it’s physical or psychological or verbal, or if it’s in a straight relationship or a gay one. It’s not okay to hit someone you’re dating,” I say finally. Garen laughs a little.
“Do you even know how many fights I’ve been in? Dozens. Hundreds, probably. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m always pissing somebody off, ‘cause I’m annoying as fuck. So yeah, sometimes guys’ll punch me for it, but it’s not like it matters, because nine out of ten times, I’ll still win the fight. And sometimes the guys I’m dating or sleeping with or whatever will be the ones who punch me. It doesn’t mean anything. Sometimes I deserve it.”
“No, you don’t,” I say forcefully. “You deserve way better—”
“So, what, would you still be saying this if I had hit you when we were dating? Even if you were shooting your mouth off and completely deserved it?” Garen asks. For a moment, I am thrown. It’s impossible to picture him actually trying to start a fight with me – a physical one, anyway. There’s no way to reconcile a fist-fight with the way he used to touch me.
“If you had ever hit me when we were dating, it would’ve been the last time I ever let you touch me. Because I may think I’m shit… I may think I’m worthless. But I wouldn’t want to date someone who thought that lowly of me,” I say. He lets out a little irritated sigh, and we finish the ride in silence. He only speaks again when I’m out of the car and about to slam the door shut.
“You should get a ride home from one of your friends. I’m meeting Dave later.”
I twist back to look at him, and he stares back at me with blank, dead eyes. I shiver involuntarily. “Yeah. I guess I can do that.”
He peels out of the parking lot the second I’ve shut the door. Once he’s out of sight, I have to turn my attention to my other big catastrophe; I square my shoulders and head inside to meet Ben.
He’s waiting at my locker, sitting on the floor with a thick textbook on his lap. For once, he’s not wearing a hoodie; while most people have accommodated for the warmer weather with t-shirts and shorts, Ben has simply switched to a white, long-sleeved shirt under a dark blue t-shirt advertising a Chopin concert in the park from a few years ago. I wonder if he played in it. I wonder if I’m allowed to ask.
“Hi,” I say, and he jumps, but still takes a few seconds to look up at me.
“Hi,” he says. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Yeah, I uh… I just got here. A-Are you studying for a test?” I ask. He shakes his heads and moves as if to stand. I quickly extend a hand to help him the rest of the way to his feet, and he lets slip a tiny smile.
“No, I’m just trying to start reviewing for final exams. They start in two weeks, and I’ve got a lot of shit to memorize,” he says. Of course. Two weeks until his exams, a month until he graduates, just a few months until he heads off to Juilliard. Why is it that whenever I get a boyfriend, he disappears to New York? Shifting nervously, he adds, “So… we should probably talk about the party, I guess.”
Before I can take the time to actually compose my thoughts, my mouth pops open and a flood of words tumbles out. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed Garen, especially after I promised you nothing was going to happen. It was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done, and it just… I don’t want to say, ‘It just happened,’ because I know it was a choice. But while it was happening, it was like I knew it was wrong, and I knew it was a shitty decision, but I couldn’t stop myself. And I think part of me just wanted to know, you know, if it’d be like it was before.”
“Was it?” Ben asks.
“No,” I say quietly. “Not at all. It wasn’t good. There was so much missing, and whatever I had with Garen, however important it was at the time? It’s not there anymore. He’s a different person, and so am I, and I’m glad. Because you’re the only person I want to be with, and I know that what I did was shitty, but I’m hoping you can forgive me anyway.”
Ben shifts his eyes to the floor. “I do. And… look, you shouldn’t have to feel guilty for having a history with some other guy. I shouldn’t make you feel guilty for it, especially since I’ve got a past, too. And kissing Alex at the party meant nothing. You know that. I was just, I wanted to hurt you, I wanted to make you feel like I felt, knowing you’d kissed Garen. It was the only thing I could think of. It sucked. I’m sorry.”
I reach out and wrap an arm around him, drawing him forward against my chest. We both exhale at once, melting together as the tension of our situation diffuses. One of these days, I’ll probably have to address the fact that Alex actually does like him. But right now, it’s not my secret to tell, and it’s not my real concern. Right now, all I want to do is touch him.
“I love you,” I whisper. He burrows into my arms, and I press my smiling lips to the top of his head.
After that, everything is easy. At least, easier. The next several days of school pass quickly and simply; five of my classes are Advanced Placements with exams timed to coincide with the senior finals, so most of my teachers are just trying to cram in some last minute facts before we all become buried under the weight of study guides and notebook checks. Even though I’ve been the widely acknowledged shoe-in for next year’s valedictorian since the first day of high school, I still can’t really bring myself to pay attention. With just a few days left to go before finals, some of my teachers actually give up and just assign us a study hall.
At this point, I couldn’t give a fuck about school, because life is actually going well for me; Ben and I have returned to the blissfully content way we were before Garen returned, Mom is actually being pleasant now that she’s deluded herself into believing that Garen and I were only ever friends, and Garen is actually being normal. He isn’t doing lines of cocaine in the kitchen. He isn’t trying to sabotage my relationship. He isn’t throwing big parties whenever our parents leave the house. He isn’t flirting with me, or giving me those horrible, aching looks he used to.
The real problem with my life, I realize during my Calc-class-turned-study-hall last period on Thursday, is that the calm is always followed by a big, ridiculous storm. I should have expected these past few pleasant, average days to culminate in something heartbreaking or humiliating. And the universe is all too willing to oblige, apparently, because the school loudspeaker suddenly crackles to life.
“—is not for student use! Return to class immediately!”
“Attention, everyone!” Wait… is that Alex?
“Oh my God, you are not doing this—” Ben? What the fuck is going on?
“Ow, McCutcheon, get off of—”
“Put it down, Alex! I swear—”
“—be disciplined severely!”
“My friend here – everyone knows my friend, Ben, right? Ben McCutcheon? He’s a senior? He’s the short one, with the eyeliner! And those lame-ass hoodies. Yeah, my friend has something he wants to say—”
“No, I don’t! Put it the fuck down!”
“Detention! Detention for both of you!”
“Hey, Travis! Travis, are you listening?” My head snaps up, and everyone in the room turns, almost in unison, to stare at me.
“Alex, stop it! This isn’t cool, you—”
“—an outrage! Never in all my—”
“Jesus, Ben, stop hitting me!”
“Turn off the fucking speaker!”
“Alexander! Benjamin!”
“Travis, will you go to prom with Ben?”
Silence.
“I can’t believe you just did that. You’re the worst friend I’ve ever had in my life.”
“Someday, when you and Travis move to Vermont to get married, you’ll be thanking me for it.”
“Not if he says he won’t go with me! God, Al, I just told you I thought he’d say no if I asked him, and I didn’t bring that up so that you’d—”
“Um, Ben, the speaker’s still on—”
“Shit, shit, shit—”
“Benjamin McCutcheon, that language will not be—”
“Fuck!”
And then the speaker finally clicks off. The laughter and applause that follows is almost deafening. People are clambering over seats to clap me on the back, and at least four girls immediately swoop over to demand to know my answer. Apparently, even Lakewood is willing to forget its homophobia when someone pulls a stunt as spectacular as that. By the time the bell rings, I’ve heard enormous lists of the pros and cons of accepting, and the only guy who suggested “because I’ll kick your ass if you do” as a con was booed by the people around me.
I take my time packing up my backpack at my locker, then make my way up to the senior hallway. Ben and Alex are nowhere to be seen, but Jeremy and Mason are both there, joking with each other, then cackling even more when they see me coming.
“If you’re looking for your boyfriend, he’s up at the main office,” Jeremy says, grinning at me.
Mason chuckles. “Yeah, they probably won’t even be allowed to go to prom, after that.”
“But if they are, what are you going to say?” Jeremy says, suddenly sobering. They both eye me warily, and I suddenly realize they must think I’m the least trustworthy person alive. Chasing Garen out of town… being a step away from a one-night stand with Alex… hurting Ben, over and over and over.
“Bite me, you guys,” I say, forcing a smile, “I think I can handle this on my own.”
Before they can band together and tie me down until I submit to more of their questioning, I turn on my heel and march up towards the main office. As promised, Ben and Alex are camped out on metal folding chairs in front of the office, sneaking looks at each other like chastised children in time-out.
“I can’t believe you two,” I say. Instead of grinning up at me guiltily, like Alex does, Ben buries his face in his hands.
“Oh my Jesus, go away, Travis. And like, never come back, or look at me, or think about this occasion,” he groans.
I laugh and reach out to card my fingers through his hair. “Stop being dramatic.”
“I wasn’t even planning to really ask you! Alex just—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Alex interrupts. “Alex just acted as the middleman for you two morons. God! First, I introduced you to the idea of hooking up with Travis by sucking his dick at the Love Sucks Party. Then, I convinced Travis to get his head out of his ass and actually ask you out after you guys made out. And now here I am, getting you two to go to prom together.”
Ben finally lifts his head enough to laugh at his friend, but I feel a vague churning of guilt in my stomach. However much he jokes about it, this must be infuriating for Alex. Every time he’s compelled by all his best-friend urges to help Ben out, it only drags the possibility of them being together further out of his reach. On the one hand, I feel like a homewrecking shitbag. On the other, Ben is my boyfriend. I curl my hand around the back of his neck and lean down to kiss him.
“You’re ridiculous, Ben. Of course I’ll go to prom with you,” I say.
For a moment, he sits there in stunned, thrilled silence. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously,” I say. His face splits into the widest, most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen, and I can’t stop myself from kissing him once more.
“McCutcheon, McCall! PDA is against the student code of conduct!” Principal Hammond barks from the doorway of his office. I’m sorely tempted to ignore him, but anything I do will probably just add to Ben and Alex’s punishment, so I step back quickly. “McCall… just go home already. I need to speak to your friends about their completely inappropriate actions.”
“If it helps you make your decision about how to react, Travis agreed to go with Ben,” Alex adds, and Ben shoots him a warning look. Principal Hammond scowls.
“Well, it remains to be seen if any of you will be permitted to attend after that little stunt. Travis. Go. Now.”
His voice makes it clear that he will not be telling me a third time. I offer Ben one last small smile and head outside into the warm April sunlight. I don’t have a ride home now, but it doesn’t matter; the weather is fantastic, and I’m feeling content enough not to mind walking home. My good mood lasts me all the way back to the house, and most of the way to my room. Halfway up the stairs, however, I realize that the house is eerily quiet. Garen’s car is in the driveway, but there’s no babbling from the TV downstairs, or streams of music coming from his bedroom.
I frown and pause outside to knock on his door. “Garen?”
There’s no reply, so I push open the door. His room is empty. It takes me a few seconds to realize that the light is on in the bathroom down the hall, though the door is open. I approach slowly. “Garen, are you in there?”
After a slight hesitation, he says, “Y-Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?”
I round the corner and freeze. No. No, no, no. Not again.
“Dave?” I ask, even though it’s not much of a question.
Garen’s hands tighten on the edge of the counter as he meets my gaze in the mirror. At least, as well as he can, with one eye swollen most of the way shut and hidden behind an angry-looking bruise. “Some guy in the Target parking lot almost hit my car. I got out to yell at him, and he flipped out on me.”
“Then explain why you look like you’re about to cry,” I demand. He snorts.
“I’m not going to cry. How much of a little bitch do you think I am?” he asks. I take a few steps towards him and hook a finger under his jaw to turn his face towards me. He lets me move his head, but stares at the ceiling instead of into my eyes. I’m more than willing to wait him out. For nearly five minutes, we just stand there, each of us waiting for the other to move.
And then, just when I’m starting to wonder if it’s pointless, a tear rolls down his cheek, leaving a trail from his black eye to his chin. He immediately drags the back of his hand over his face and turns back to face the mirror, glaring at himself. I’m stunned to see how furious he looks with himself, almost as stunned as I am to see that he actually is going to cry. This new vulnerability is something I hadn’t ever counted on.
“It’s fine, Travis,” he says, his voice gravelly and thick. “I can handle it.”
Of all the lies he’s ever told me, this one hurts the most.