I felt worse than I had the night Kaleb stood me up, and that was saying something.
“I’m sorry,” Ace said. “Benji, can we just calm down and—”
“No. I’m not doing this,” I said, turning for the door. “I need to get the fuck out of here.”
He didn’t stop me when I stalked out, slamming the door behind me. Of course Ace would be fucking respectful of my wishes, that asshole. He was always so fucking nice, which was why this had blindsided me.
I’d trusted him. I trusted him to help me, to listen to me, to care about my feelings. And the whole time, he’d been keeping a massive secret from me.
Even if it was true that he liked me, why not just say so? It wasn’t like Ace needed to worry about being rejected. He was the handsome, sexy one. I was the geeky introvert with no muscle tone and too many freckles.
No, it didn’t make any sense. This was just one more example of Ace’s hero complex, thinking he could save me from sadness or some bullshit.
Reaching my dorm, I slunk inside and crawled into bed. Thanks to my hangover, I was easily able to sleep for several more hours. I turned off my phone and crashed.
It wasn’t until I woke I realized there was something on my wrist.
I looked down, my chest going hot and tight as I gazed at the interwoven blue, purple, and lime green threads.
It was a friendship bracelet.
Just like the one I’d made him as a kid.
11
Benji
My phone buzzed with a text, and I eyed it like it was a rattlesnake. I was in bed, even though it was nearly noon. I’d slept off my hangover the day before, then wallowed in bed the rest of the day, watching anime and reading webcomics: Yuri on Ice, My Hero Academia, and because I was feeling masochistic, the heart-breaking Given and the romantic comic Heartstopper.
Ordinarily anime, manga, and webcomics with their themes of boy-love was a comfort to me. They made me feel less alone as a gay boy, and when I’d been so isolated at my conservative high school, they’d been a lifesaver. Watching them now wasn’t an act of comfort, though, so much as masochism.
My heart felt bruised, and indulging in these stories was a way of poking and prodding it, immersing myself in the pain of a fantasy romance that felt impossibly far away.
Ace had texted a couple of times while I was sleeping the day before. I hadn’t read them because I wasn’t ready. But this time it wasn’t Ace; it was Tracy.
Answer me before I call campus police to report my missing friend!
Wincing, I realized she’d texted me yesterday morning. I’d missed it, too obsessed with avoiding Ace.
Sorry! I tapped out quickly. I’m alive and back at my dorm.
My phone rang almost immediately.
“Hi, sorry,” I said again as I answered.
“Pro tip about dating,” she said. “Always tell a friend when you’re on a date, and then call or text the friend to let them know you got home safely.”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“You’re a guy,” she said dismissively. “Women spend a lot of time thinking about these concerns. Guys, not so much. But considering you’re dating men too…”
“I’m not dating anyone.”
I was sulking. No doubt about it.
“I take it the date went badly?”
“The date itself was okay,” I said reluctantly. “Some stuff just happened afterward, and—”
“Are you okay?” she asked sharply. “If I need to go kick some frat-boy ass, you just tell me. I’ll do whatever you need.”
My stomach growled loudly. I was feeling a little lightheaded, and I realized it’d been a long-ass time since I ate. “I don’t need anything, except maybe brunch.”
“Get dressed,” she ordered. “I’ll be there in ten.”
“Uh, you will?”
“Yes, and I really can’t be late.”
“For what?”
“Brunch, duh! I’m meeting up with my parents. You’re coming along.”
“I don’t think—”
“See you soon!” Click.
I stared at my phone, nonplussed. I guessed I had to get out of bed. That hadn’t been in the plan at all.
My stomach gurgled encouragingly. Okay, maybe I could eat. Tracy probably just wanted to prove to her parents she had friends — she’d mentioned once that they worried about that, for some reason I couldn’t fathom; she was far more extroverted than me — and then I’d get to return to my bed and my heart-wrenching anime and my pity party.
He said he liked you. Maybe the secret admirer thing wasn’t just pity. Maybe…
I shut out the thoughts. They’d plagued me off and on ever since I walked out of that frat house.
Maybe Ace did really like me.
Maybe he meant all the things he’d said in those notes.
Maybe he gave me those gifts out of admiration and not pity.
Even if that were true, which was still very hard for me to wrap my head around, he’d kept secrets and lied to me every time we talked about my secret admirer.
I didn’t know how to feel about that, and until I did, I wasn’t ready to talk to him.
Ace
Benji wasn’t talking to me.
I’d texted three times, but I resisted the urge to continue reaching out. I already felt enough like a stalker with all the secret admirer gifts, which in light of my big reveal, felt less romantic and more disturbing.
Why had I fooled myself into thinking I was doing something for Benji when all along, it’d really been for me? A way to fulfill a desire I didn’t know how to handle. A way to feel closer to him without risking anything.
He was right to be angry.
Maybe Jonas was right to be angry too. He’d told me in no uncertain terms to fuck off when I’d seen him after Benji stormed out.
Fortunately, I had work shifts to occupy me over the weekend. When I wasn’t working, I was working out at the gym, pushing my body as hard as I could. I told myself I was trying to burn off the depression I felt settling in — creating an endorphin rush — but really, I was punishing myself. I didn’t stop until everything hurt, so much that it distracted me from the tightness in my chest and the hollow pit in my gut.
“You got another letter,” Keith called when I returned to the house still dripping sweat Sunday afternoon.
I detoured toward the kitchen, following the sound of his voice, even though another letter was the last thing I wanted. I already knew who it was from. It always came from the same source: my mother.
I’d accumulated five unopened letters so far. Every now and then I was weak, and I read them. Each time that happened, I promised myself I’d never read them again.
But I always caved eventually. Guilt or regret or, foolishly, hope would compel me to see if maybe I’d misjudged her this time. But it always turned out the same.
I held out a hand, and Keith slapped the letter into it. Such an innocuous white rectangle made of paper, yet just as poisonous as a viper waiting to strike.
“Damn, man, you reek,” he said, wrinkling his nose.
“Yeah, I decided to run across campus on my way back from the gym, so…”
He stared at me. “Let me get this straight. You worked out, and then you ran all the way here after working out?”