“Enlighten me, then,” I say, but my voice loses that interest and enthusiasm I usually keep for him.
More sighing. He doesn’t say anything, and my heart stops beating in my chest before he finally groans, “Fuck. I guess I meant it.”
“Okay,” is all I say.
He tries to make small talk the rest of the way to school. I shut it down. This is not happening. I’m done chasing after him like a little puppy.
When we’re two blocks from school, I motion for him with my hand to stop. “No point coming in together, right? I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
My voice is dry and lacking. Lacking emotion, lacking interest, lacking a soul. He stops by the curb, angling his body to look at me and say something, but I’m already out the door.
I don’t look back to watch his confused face.
I don’t give him the opportunity to boss me around.
I sling my backpack over one shoulder and race to school, leaving him to feel how he makes me feel day in and day out.
Small.
When I see Christian in the hall before class, I don’t ask him why he didn’t answer me over the weekend, because I don’t have to. I can see for myself. He went through some sort of transformation. Got a septum piercing and dyed his hair green. Not bottle green. Dark and mysterious. I’m talking The Joker green. He looks…extreme.
“Faggot,” Herring coughs as he passes by Christian and me in the hallway, straightening his varsity jacket over his broad shoulders. His minions are following him, their backwards ball caps and stupid smirks on full display. I put a hand over Christian’s back.
“Fuck him. What’s up?”
Christian takes a long look at Herring before he slams his locker shut and locks it.
“Fucking straight boys,” he grumbles.
At least I’m not the only weirdo here.
I cock an eyebrow. He shakes his head, and we both walk to the entrance. We are going to a café across the street. Even though Pierce sneaked some money into the smallest pocket in my backpack—the Benjamins fell to the floor with a soft thud when I opened it to get a piece of gum in English Lit—I’m still not going to use it. I’m tired of feeling like his pet project, and even though I’d kill myself before going back to Ryan and admitting defeat, I also don’t feel like going back to the boat.
“Do you have secrets, Remi?” He jerks his head to look at me as we descend the stairs to the street level. I try hard not to blush, which ironically makes me blush even harder.
“Sure. I mean, everyone does.” Sometimes the best moments in life are the ones you can’t talk about.
“Well, I do. And it’s a big one.”
“Okay.” I lick my lips, keeping my steps and my voice and everything about me extra casual, because I know how weird these things can be. It’s hard to be out of the closet at Christian’s age. It’s hard to be out of the closet at any age, and I have a feeling that even though he’s in, the guy he is interested in is not.
“And every time I have to see him in the halls, pretending to be someone he’s not, it’s a constant reminder that he’ll never be mine. He’ll never come out. He doesn’t even want to be seen with me anymore.”
I don’t ask if it’s Benton Herring. A part of me knows the answer to that. Another part doesn’t want to believe it. But Christian’s voice hit home nonetheless, because this conversation can be about Pierce and me. A secret that’s too big to shoulder. A love story that isn’t meant to be written. A script that anyone can know—from miles away—is not going to have a happy conclusion.
After first period, I reluctantly attend my Speech and Debate class. A part of me is dying to see him again. To smell him. To get a fix of the man I can’t get enough of. The other part dreads it for the very same reasons.
I sit at my desk, and when Benton Herring passes me by, he slaps a paper to my desk. I don’t even bother to look at what it is. I’m still scrolling my thumb through my Facebook, trying to figure out through the updates if my stepbrother is still alive. Looks like he is, and he checked in somewhere in Reno. Fun times, but at least I’ll be able to go home today after school. The fact that I don’t have to be dependent on Pierce today is a small victory.
“Pssst, Remi.” Benton is now leaning across his desk toward me. He smells of too much Abercrombie and Fitch cologne and desperation. I ignore him.
“Remi. Remi. Remi. Remi. Remi.”
“What?!” I turn around and snap at him, probably looking like a psycho, but I don’t even care. I don’t like him very much right now. Not that I did in the first place.
“I invited you to a par-tay. A special party at my house. The deets are all on the page. Mikaela made special invitations because she’s cute and hot and talented. Right, Mikaela?” He twists his head and winks at her.
“Should’ve added that no skanks are allowed in the fine print.” She pops on pink bubblegum while concentrating deeply on putting on a coat of hot red nail polish.