But that hadn’t happened. Instead, I’d heard Sean talking to his folks about a guy they wanted to fix him up with who’d be like him—smart and successful, with awards and shit, and already done with his PhD. They said Sean needed to be with someone worthy of him. I’d meant to walk away, not eavesdrop, but Sean had fought back for a little while, and that made me smile. Go Sean! But then they’d gotten really reasonable, and I kind of knew I was sunk. They talked about how I was the first boyfriend Sean had ever had, and he didn’t have any way to know if he really cared about me since he couldn’t compare.
It made sense. I’d even wondered if I’d rushed back from Hartsboro and asked Sean not to date anybody else because I didn’t want him to be able to compare me to them.
Yeah. Sean hadn’t fought back anymore. As soon as they talked about making an informed choice, I got so upset I was afraid I’d say something, so I hurried back upstairs. The trouble was, I didn’t know for sure what Sean had said, so I lay awake all night wondering. I almost got on my knees and prayed to a god I wasn’t sure was there just to ask him to make Sean choose me. But even then, I knew it was selfish. Because the McKinneys were right: Sean deserved better.
And then on the train it was obvious Sean knew it too.
A tear fell on my hand, and I opened my eyes in shock. My cheeks were soaking wet. Shit! I swiped at them and glanced around to see who was staring.
A warm hand landed on my puffer coat sleeve. “Anything I can help with?”
Startled, I looked at the nice lady next to me. She reminded me of the woman who’d said I could be her therapist anytime when I’d told Sean about changing my program. And that felt like a kick in the chest. “No, no thank you.”
“Girlfriend problems?”
“Boyfriend.”
She sighed. “Ah, I see. Equal opportunity heartbreak.”
That almost made me smile. Almost. “I met his parents, and they didn’t like me.”
“Oh, that’s very hard, especially for men of your age. Parents still have a lot of influence.” She raised her eyebrows. “To say nothing of financial clout.”
“Sean’s got scholarships. He’s a genius.”
“A genius. Interesting.” She nodded.
“Yeah, and I’m not.” It came out sounding really upset, and I took a breath.
She patted my arm kind of absentmindedly. “There are many types of genius.”
I shrugged.
“But if your boyfriend shares the kind of genius his parents have, they could have difficulty seeing your worth.”
I barked a laugh. “That pretty much sums it up.”
“If he’s relied on his parents’ advice most of his life, breaking away from that isn’t the work of a minute. Give him time.”
The bus pulled to the first stop at the campus. It wasn’t the closest to my house, but I didn’t mind the walk. Maybe the cold air would get rid of the red around my eyes. I gathered up my backpack. “Thank you for your advice, ma’am.”
“My pleasure.”
I hurried down the aisle and off the bus, then turned back and waved at her through the window. Yeah, she was a smart lady, but I hadn’t told her that, while I was giving Sean time, he’d be going on dates with Jeremiah Osteen, whose dad was a CEO and who got his fucking PhD at fucking Oxford.
What the fucking hell was the use?
It was a good twenty-minute walk to my house, and despite the afternoon sun, it was freaking cold, so I pulled on my backpack, put my hands in my pockets, and double-timed. When I got to the house, my nose was running and eyes watering without any help from my broken heart.
Inside, the smells and noises of the fraternity were normal and awful, like I’d changed but nothing else had.
“Hey, Bubba.” DeWan gave me a power sign. “Where you been?”
I hadn’t told anybody where I was going since the whole meeting the ’rents thing had seemed intimidating. Fuck, I’d had no idea. “Chicago. Had to visit some fam.”
One of the freshmen, Jimmy, said, “Par-tay tonight.”
“Oh? On a Sunday?”
Tray looked up from a book. “Yeah, last chance for a throwdown before semifinals. A quick kickback.”
Pizazz leaned back in his chair, legs thrown over the arm. “No semifinals for me, man.”
“Didn’t mean you, Crashy.” Tray knocked his book against Pizazz’s sneakered foot.
Tray looked at me. “Invite your Poin if you want, Bubba.”
“Yeah, no. Thanks.” I trotted up the stairs, but I heard one of the guys say, “Trouble in gay paradise already?”
By the time I got to my room, I wanted to barf. Why had I made such a big fucking deal out of the whole Sean thing to the bros? Yeah, and everyone else on campus. Holding hands, putting my arm around him. Now I got to be a bisexual loser—a giant failure with all genders.
I flopped on my bed. Fuck, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about much of anything. The one who’d cared was Sean, or at least I’d thought so. I thought he’d believed in me so much I’d gone to my advisor and made a fucking fool of myself. Dr. O had stuck his neck out for me, gotten me enrolled in classes that were way over my head, and now I’d have to let him down.
The McKinneys knew. Me getting a doctor of anything was a joke. I must have been crazy to think there was any world in which that was possible.
Jesus, I was so tired. I rested my head against the headboard.
I woke up, sweating in my puffer coat, to the sounds of a girl laughing, and glass clinking. Beer. Yes.
I peeled off the coat, ran a hand over my short hair, blew into my hand to check my breath was fit for human company, not that I cared much since it would smell like beer soon, and went out into the hall.
It was DeWan and his girlfriend I’d heard laughing, and I slid past them where they were making out against the wall and trotted down the steps.
The flow of alcohol was, as usual, coming from the kitchen. I followed the foaming brew and found Jimmy manning the keg and filling the big glass mugs we’d bought at a wholesaler one year. I grabbed the next one in his hand, and PJ yelled, “Hey, big man, wait your turn.” Then he looked at me and said, “Never mind. You look like you need it more than me.”
Yeah, glad I didn’t look in the mirror.
I leaned against the wall in the kitchen and drank half the beer in my mug. The weird thing was, I didn’t actually like beer that much. It was just the thing everybody drank in my world—my father and all his friends, most of my fraternity brothers. Yeah, I’ll bet Sean’s parents don’t drink beer. I tipped up my mug and drained the glass, then grabbed another full mug from Jimmy and drank it as I wandered into the dining room. Some spur-of-the-minute snacks like bags of chips and plastic containers of salsa had been laid out on the big dining room table. Guys huddled around the table with their girlfriends. That made me blink.
After another quick swallow, I headed back to the kitchen. Jimmy frowned at me. “Hey, Bubba, hitting it kind of hard tonight, aren’t you?” Even though fraternities had reps as big partiers, the ALAs, except for Pizazz and sometimes Rex, didn’t drink much. We were the jocks and had to stay in shape. That included me—usually.
“Who died and made you Smoky the Beer?” I snorted when I heard what I said and then started to laugh. I kept laughing as I waggled my fingers for another mug, and Jimmy gave one to me even if he didn’t look happy. I grinned. “Thanks.”