Heartless (Keeping Secrets) Page 4

  He crossed his arms over his chest, drawing my attention to the strong lines of muscle there. “I know I was an ass to you when you came out.” That was not where I had expected this particular conversation to be heading. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Um, thanks. It’s okay.” I meant it, I think. I was so shocked that he’d said it that my first impulse had been to forgive him. For an instant I even contemplated a friendship with my first love. We would eat lunch together again, go to games, all that crap I did with my other friends.

  “There is more,” he said. I cocked my head to the side in question. He fidgeted, dropped his arms, walked over to me, and took both my hands in his. I looked up at him, wide-eyed. What was going on? “I want you to know that I can’t stop thinking about you.” My heart stopped beating for a good ten seconds. “I’m… I’m gay, Jason.” My body went gooey, and I just knew that I was going to melt into a puddle of happiness on the floor.

  “Good,” I heard myself say. Had my voice just gotten husky? “That’s good.” I swallowed. “What’s that got to do with me?”

  “I want to know—” He paused, gathering courage. “I want to know if you’d let me suck you?” You know those moments when you feel like you may be on Candid Camera or Jackass or Punk’d or a million other shows where people are playing practical jokes? I was there in that moment. Ice water thrown in my face couldn’t have been more effective.

  It hadn’t been “I want to know if you’d like to date me” or “I want to know if you’d like to go out sometime” or even “I want to know if you have feelings for me.” It had been “I want to know if you’d let me suck you.” What the hell? Did he think just because I was a guy it was cool to just walk up and ask for sexual favors?

  Bitterness settled into the marrow of my bones, leeching the last bit of tenderness I felt for the boy. I forced myself to smile. Ironically, it was the same smile I used with Jonathan at home. “Meet me back in the locker room in ten minutes, Tommy dear, and I’ll show you a time that you won’t soon forget.”

  WE’D done the deed, and I’d left the experience feeling hollow and betrayed. He’d driven me home and had kissed me good night, and I’d used the phone that I’d borrowed from Kevin earlier to post the video I’d taken to his mom’s blog. It didn’t matter that she’d deleted it within a few hours. My revenge gave me a feral satisfaction but had left a hole somewhere in my chest.

  I rubbed the offending area with my hand as my heart began to literally ache at the memory. I tossed and turned a few more times before finally sliding into a bizarre and restless sleep.

  Chapter Five

  I WOKE up pissed. I hate waking up that way from a dream. It makes me edgy and grouchy for the rest of the day, and I hate it. Even the smell of Tina’s cooking wasn’t enough to summon me into higher spirits.

  “Come on, man. Dad’s calling on the intercom.” Kevin’s voice was in my doorway. I groaned and rolled over. I so didn’t want to get up yet. If I went back to sleep now, maybe I would sleep off the anger that I’d woken up with. “You know if he comes up to get you that you’ll have a face full of water.” Kevin’s dad didn’t yell for anyone to get up. He called, and we had twenty minutes to get downstairs. If we didn’t make it, he’d come up with a glass of water and pour it over our heads.

  I sat up and rubbed a hand over my face. I felt gross and wanted a shower with a desperation that bordered on obsession. I’m all about feeling clean. I didn’t care about getting dirty, mind you, but I typically always showered before bed, and the fact that I’d gone to bed with sweat on my body was one of those OCD things that drove me up a wall. I guessed it could wait until after breakfast, though.

  With Kevin’s harassment, I managed to make it downstairs and into the kitchen. It was a super homey place to be. It looked like one of those custom-built country kitchens that I’d seen on TV. Everything was white and soft brown with stainless-steel appliances uniformly scattered throughout the space. Tina had her back turned and was still in her favorite pink lounge pants and a white tank top. It wasn’t Leave It To Beaver traditional mom-wear but it fit in smoothly with the housewives around Biltmore. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail. Kevin came by his blond hair honest because both of his parents shared the trait.

  Kevin’s dad, Joshua, was already at his place at the head of the table, reading his Sports Illustrated magazine and sipping coffee. They never slept in past nine, no matter how late they’d been up the night before. They were absolute freaks of nature in that way. He raised green eyes that were the same color as Kev’s. “Well, hi there, Jason. Nice to know you actually decided to stick around for breakfast for once. I haven’t seen you in the daylight in ages,” he teased. He sounded gruff, but that was just Joshua. He was a big-ass teddy bear just like Kevin. “Come give me a hug.” I went willingly as he stood, and I was enveloped in the scent of Old Spice and coffee. Not a bad combination.

  I hugged him tight, and my throat suddenly constricted for some reason. This was how it was supposed to be for me. This was how I was supposed to feel when a parental figure touched me. He tensed as I trembled. “What’s the matter, son?” It was the “son” that nearly undid me. I wanted to cry like a little girl but stamped down on the impulse. I didn’t want to ruin this. I held onto him for longer than I probably should have, my head buried in his chest as I regained my composure. He gave me a squeeze as I pulled back.

  “Nothing, sir,” I said respectfully, giving him my signature happy-go-lucky face. “Just super tired and you smell sooooo good.” He pretended to cuff my head but ended up ruffling my hair. I sat down in my usual seat and began counting the seconds before I could leave. I hated feeling like that, but I felt vulnerable today, and I was afraid that if I stayed I’d end up doing something stupid, like cry.

  “So what are you boys getting into today?” Joshua asked as Tina brought over a mountain of pancakes and sausage. My stomach grumbled loudly. I couldn’t wait.

  “I’ve got to go into work at four,” I said, forking a mouthful of pancakes into my mouth. Hmm, they were blueberry. Yum.

  “How is that new job going, Jason?” Joshua asked.

  I shrugged. “It’s a paycheck.” My measly paycheck every couple weeks saved my ass, but I didn’t say that aloud. He nodded.

  “So long as you’re keeping up with your studies.” They all knew I was trying to get a scholarship. It would be the only way I’d be able to go. With a 4.3 GPA, getting into a school wasn’t the problem—paying for it was.

  “I told Aaron and the boys I’d go play basketball with them at the park at three,” Kevin piped up, taking a swig of his orange juice.

  “Excellent,” Joshua said, not missing a beat. “You have time to mow the lawn after you take Jason home.” Kevin groaned. I laughed. It was good to be a part of something normal for once.

  MY JOB is pretty mindless. Smile, greet the customer, scan their crap, take their money, repeat. Over and over again. I was in the zone, managing to do all that while still thinking of something else when Danny came through my line.

  “Hi,” he greeted me, putting a Butterfinger candy bar, a pack of gum, and a Pepsi on my counter.

  “Hi yourself,” I said, remembering that I had to speak. The guy really was top-notch. I sighed, hiding my immediate reaction behind the counter in front of me. He was in a green polo shirt and soft khakis today.

  “I was bummed you had to leave early last night,” he said as I scanned his stuff. There was no one behind him, so I took my time. “Sorry about Tommy too. He hasn’t been himself lately.”

  Whoop-de-do. Like I gave a flying frig about Tommy. At that point I think I’d convinced myself that I didn’t really still like him and it had been the combination of dancing and alcohol that had made me enjoy his kiss so much.

  “No problem. He’s always had a problem with me. I don’t take it personally.” Even if it is. Danny shook his head, looking sad.

  “No, really. He’s had it rough these past couple of months.
His mom died in early June. It was one of the reasons we moved down here.” Mr. TMI had just dropped a bomb. Tommy’s mom was dead? The same mom that I’d sent pornographic images of her son to? Really?

  “That sucks.” I couldn’t think of anything more eloquent to say. I know people always manage to come up with great one-liners about the circle of life and how grief has its place and everything, but all I could manage in my shock was “that sucks.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. So he lives with us now. He’s having a hard time, so don’t judge him too harshly.” He twisted the lid off the Pepsi and tilted it up to swallow some of the bubbly liquid inside. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to come into this conversation all doom and gloom. You want to go out sometime?” It was straight and to the point and exactly what I’d wanted Tommy to ask me two years ago. It was perfect.

  “Yeah. I think I’d like that.” I found myself smiling as my heart took on an irregular rhythm that was similar to when you stepped off a really awesome roller coaster. On the one hand, you wanted it to stop, and on the other, you couldn’t wait to go again.

  He beamed at me, revealing a mouthful of straight white teeth. “Sweet. I’ll drop by your locker Monday, and we’ll make a plan?” I nodded mutely and handed him his small bag of goodies. He waved and gave me another of his beautiful smiles as he walked away.

  I was on cloud nine the rest of my shift.

  I ONCE saw it written on some guy’s blog that there were three types of gay men in the world: virgins, sluts, and the rest of us. Virgins didn’t know better, sluts didn’t care, and everyone else was just trying to find love and happily ever after. I can securely say I fit into the second category. It wasn’t even impulsive on my part. I just never turned anyone down who was up for a good time. People wanted to call it a lot of different things. Kevin called it leftover emotional punishment from my stepdad. Aaron called it me being a pimp—this usually came with a high five. Angelina called it me just being a regular guy. Whatever it was, I usually loved sex in all of its various forms.

  Cade cornering me in an empty closet and trying to rape me was not one of those times. I don’t know what had happened to push him over the edge between Friday and Monday, but when he clamped his hands downs on my wrists and dragged me into the janitor’s closet right before lunch, I knew he meant business.

  “What are you doing, Cade?” I asked as he pushed his face into the side of my neck. My wrists were starting to hurt. I tried to sound unaffected, but I think I failed miserably. I was fucking scared. I could normally hold my own, but Cade was freaking huge, and I did not want to make a big scene. Everyone loved a good melodrama, but I was supposed to be meeting up with Danny at some point today by my locker, and I did not want to do it after a former fling of mine decided to try to fuck me in a closet. Cade snaked his tongue out and lapped at my pulse, before moving one hand down to my uninterested package. Fear did not make for a good hard-on.

  “I missed you,” he said, biting my pulse point. I winced.

  “Ouch, you dumb fuck. That hurts. Stop it.” I tried to pull away, but he tightened the hand on my package, clutching nastily, and my balls started screaming. Getting your junk mishandled was sort of like getting clocked in the temple—first you experienced the screaming pain, then the slight nausea, and finally a starburst of color behind your eyelids. To say the least, it is not a pleasant experience.

  “Are you fucking high?” I asked, trembling as he pawed at my pants button and fumbled with my jeans. I was impressed I had managed to say that sentence at all. I felt like I was about to vomit. “Cade, please.” I don’t know why I was begging. I think it was because I knew that he meant it, that he wasn’t going to stop. He shoved my pants to my knees and backed me into a shelf of chemicals. My shaking increased and shock set in. This was really going to happen. He was really going to….

  “Stop!” I managed to shout as I found my voice when he started pulling off his own pants. “Stop it!” I shouted again. He clamped his hand over my mouth, shutting off the sound. He balled his other hand into a fist and punched me in the stomach. I doubled over in pain.

  I know I was a fucking asshole to him, but I didn’t deserve this, did I? I started crying. I know, I always prided myself on being above that sort of thing, but I was scared and hurt and about a million other things that made sense for anyone who had been in my position. He turned me around and shoved my chest against the cold metal of the shelf. He spread my thighs. I just prayed he’d get this over with quickly. I found myself slipping into the place in my head I went when my stepdad was fucking me—somewhere insulated with cotton, away from the actions affecting my body. It was almost an out-of-body experience.

  Maybe I deserve this, I thought bitterly. Maybe I deserve to have this done over and over again. I thought about all the hearts I’d broken and all the lives I’d laid to waste. Poor Tommy. That was all I could think of. Tommy’s mom had died, and I hadn’t even freaking known. Worse, I probably wouldn’t have given a shit if I had.

  Suddenly the door banged open, and Cade was dragged back off me. I turned and attempted to pull up my pants with nerveless fingers as I tried to figure out what was going on. I thought it would’ve been Kevin riding to the rescue yet again, since I was such a freaking damsel in distress lately. But no, my hero wasn’t my knight in shining armor. It was my arch enemy.

  “No means no, you freak,” Tommy spat, clocking Cade on the nose. You had to wonder where the hell teachers were when you needed them. Whenever someone was smoking in the bathrooms they had Spidey senses, but when someone was brawling in a closet? No one knew or cared to go find out. Cade whimpered and clutched his face. He wasn’t a fighter. Never had been. Tommy drew back and let his fist fly again. “How do you like it?”

  I just cowered in the corner and looked on dispassionately. Tommy’s gaze turned to me, and I backed up until I collided with the concrete-block wall behind me. Anger was etched into every line of his face. I was afraid he’d start swinging at me next. He held out a hand.

  “Come on, Jason. Let’s get you out of here.” I surprised myself by reaching out and taking it. Cade continued to cry on the floor. I stepped over his legs, and Tommy pulled me out into the hallway. I was terrified someone would see me with dust all over me and tears still falling down my face. Tommy didn’t say a word, just dragged me out one of the side doors and into the parking lot. I tried to focus on how our hands felt together but could only manage to assess the briefest of sensations. He was warm. I was clammy.

  He fished keys out of his pocket and hit the unlock button on his electric-blue Camaro and then walked over to the passenger side to open the door. “Get in,” he commanded. I obeyed, sliding into the racing seat and sitting there. He ducked down and buckled me in. “Is your stuff still by your locker?” I nodded dumbly. His car smelled nice. It had that new-car smell. I liked it. “Okay.” He shut the door and took back off through the parking lot, weaving in and out of cars expertly.

  He was back in five minutes, holding our backpacks and a campus pass. He threw the backpacks into his trunk and got into the driver’s side. He handed me the white pass, which I stared at. Every school has them, I’m sure. They were little notes of freedom that you gave to the security guard on your way off campus. These little notes were worth their weight in gold because you couldn’t leave campus without one.

  “I told them you were sick and I was driving you home,” Tommy offered as he started the engine. It purred and I felt the vibrations through the floorboards. As we passed the mascot that was the official starting point of student parking, I was struck by the similarities between Tommy and the Erwin Warrior. Maybe it was the shock talking, or maybe it was the way he looked so cool and confident behind the wheel of his car, with his white-and-red Erwin letterman jacket. Either way, I was glad he was there.

  We stopped briefly at the guardhouse before hopping onto the highway. “Where do you want to go?” he asked. I didn’t know if I had the stomach to go home right now. Jonathan would be t
here.

  “Can we go to your place?” I whispered. He nodded and put his eyes back on the road. I was grateful for it. I settled into the seat and stared out the window.

  TOMMY’S house was a pretty big Victorian over in the historic district. Not the fanciest part of town, but it was one of the most established neighborhoods. “You’ll need ice for those,” Tommy said as he unlocked the door. I didn’t know what he meant at first, but then I looked down. My wrists were already starting to bruise, the flesh turning an ugly gray color already. Cade must’ve eaten his Wheaties this morning.

  I let him tug me into the kitchen while he readied ice packs for me. My brain wasn’t taking in any details. The kitchen had a stove and a fridge and therefore qualified as a kitchen in my mind. He made up the pack quickly then went through another doorway that I assumed would be a mudroom of some kind. It wasn’t. It was his bedroom.

  “Uncle Mark is in and out of the house throughout the day. He bought a small art gallery downtown a few months ago. He used to be some big art dealer back in Boston so he’s downscaled a lot. He likes to come home for lunch and when the shop’s not too busy since he has someone to manage it. Uncle Charlie won’t be in until after six, though. He works at HomeTrust Bank,” Tommy said. The words were almost apologetic. Did he think that I thought he’d want something for saving me? I didn’t, but I wouldn’t have minded. “Do you want something to drink?”

  I nodded. “Tap water is fine if you’ve got it.” He sat me down on the edge of his bed and placed the cold packs on my wrists. I stared at them blankly as he turned back toward the kitchen.

  “I’ll be right back.”