11. Ellis

CHAPTER 11

ELLI S

Despondent, I listen to the phone ring, ready to give up. I can try Ivy next, if Elliot doesn't wake up, or maybe Antoni. Surely neither of them sleeps as hard as my brother, but I'm not sure how well either of them would take being woken up at nearly two o'clock in the morning. Maybe I'll just sleep in one of the chairs in the dorm lobby.

Just as I'm about to hang up and walk back across campus to my dorm, Elliot answers, sounding panicked.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm okay. I'm sorry to wake you."

"What's going on?"

"I got locked out of my dorm and need to crash with you tonight. "

"What? Why?"

"My roommate's an asshole, that's why."

Elliot lets out a sigh, his voice muffled, and I can tell he's running a hand over his face the way he does when he's frustrated. "Okay. I'm on my way down." He hangs up be fore I can say anything else. It only takes him a few minutes to come and let me in, and I immediately apologize. He waves me off groggily. But as soon as we're in his apartment and he sees me in the light, his eyes widen at the state of me.

"The fuck happened to you?" he asks, gesturing to my dirty, wrinkled clothes. Then he looks closer and his eyes narrow. "Dude, you look wrecked."

"It's been an interesting night." Despite the turn of events, I'd still call it a very good night.

"Did your roommate do this?"

"What? No."

Elliot lifts an eyebrow as if he doesn't believe me.

"Brad didn't lay a finger on me. I got back late, and he locked me out. Fucker dead bolted the door and wouldn't answer. One of the guys next door threatened to kick my ass if I didn't stop knocking, so I gave up and came here."

My brother's bright blue eyes, the only trait we share besides the color of our hair, darken with anger.

"Please just drop it, Elliot. I just need somewhere to crash tonight. And I, uh, might need to borrow some clothes or something." My cheeks flush, afraid he'll be able to tell why it is I look so wrecked. Which he probably wouldn't be able to tell if it weren't for my beet-red face and inability to look him in the eye.

"Oh my God," he says, huffing out a laugh. "You were hooking up, weren't you?"

"Drop it, Elliot."

"You fucking were!" he exclaims, a little too loudly. Loudly enough that the bathroom door opens, a cloud of steam billows out around the hulking figure of Gab e wearing nothing but a towel.

Holy fucking shit. Even from across the apartment, I can see the cut of each individual muscle, down to that ridiculous V, the bottom of which is blessedly covered by his towel. As much as I want to see what's happening down below, I'm pretty sure my head would explode. Both of them. At the same time.

Gabe's always been in good shape, but holy shitballs. He didn't look like that the last time I saw him without a shirt on, which was at the graduation party. I'd barely looked at him then, afraid I'd have to watch him make out with his bitch girlfriend and distracted by trying to hunt down my stranger. If he'd looked like that , I might have forgotten what I was doing altogether. Like right now, because I'm standing here drooling over my brother's best friend right in front of him, and I haven't heard a word they've said.

"W-what?" I say, shaking the fog from my brain and trying not to let the smell of his body wash infiltrate my last remaining brain cells.

"Gabe asked who fucked you up, and I said I was just waiting for you to tell me the same," Elliot says, waggling his eyebrows. "Was it Tripp?"

It seems the prospect that I might have gotten laid has woken him from his groggy state. Maybe it would be cute that he's so concerned if I wasn't so completely mortified. I like teasing Gabe over how protective he can be, but I don't want him knowing about my filthy hook up.

"Will you shut up?" I mutter under my breath.

"What? It's just Gabe. He's practically our brother, too."

Sigh .

"I'm not telling either of you shit," I deadpan. "May I please take a shower and borrow some clothes for the night? We all have class in the morning."

Elliot nods and goes into his room. I refuse to look at Gabe, choosing to study the pattern of the laminate floor until my brother emerges with a towel and a stack of clothes.

"Why do you need somewhere to stay?" Gabe asks. "Did someone hurt you? Is that why you look like… this ?" he asks, and I can only imagine that he's referring to the state I'm in, but I can't look at him. He's too naked, and I'm too raw and exhausted.

"No one hurt me," I answer. "I just got locked out, is all."

"Alright," he says. His voice gets serious. "You're really okay, though?"

My gaze moves up to his, locking on his eyes that are more green than blue tonight. Instead of hard and angry like I'd expect him to be at being woken up in the middle of the night and it being heavily hinted that I've been out fucking around, they're soft and concerned.

"I'm okay," I assure him.

Gabe steps out of the bathroom, and I move toward it. Then everything sort of happens in slow motion. Elliot says something to Gabe about where he's been all night. And the realization hits me—I didn't wake Gabe up. He was in the shower when I got here. Because he just got in. Before I can brush it off with the assumption that he was probably out with his mysterious girlfriend, my eyes cut toward his body as we pass each other. A few scratch marks mar his golden skin behind his neck and…

There's a bite mark on his shoulder.

Everything turns to static when I step in to the bathroom and close the door behind me. The steam, heavy with Gabe's soapy, citrus scent, does crazy things to m y brain as I run through every moment I've had with Johnny. All the moments I thought of Gabe but was convinced that wishful thinking was letting me shape my anonymous lover into the person I wished he was. I meet my reflection's gaze in the mirror, eyes tracing over my still-swollen lips and beard-burned skin. My hair is tangled and matted, held back by the headband I used as a blindfold. I touch my lips and close my eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

It's him.

It's Gabe.

Elliot is annoyingly chipper when he wakes up, but his face falls when he takes one look at me.

"Bro, you look like shit."

"Thanks. Love you too."

He flips on the coffee pot, which I'm grateful for, because I know he doesn't usually drink coffee. It's usually reserved for the night after a rough party, but in the state I'm in, I might as well be hungover. I barely slept a wink. I don't know what to think or what to feel. I alternated between disbelief, elation, anger, and the desire to march into his room all night. But what would I do once I was in there? What would I say to him?

No, I need time to cool down. To get some sleep, to clear my head. What if I'm wrong?

I really don't think I am, though. The more I think about it, the more all the signs line up. There's very little doubt in my mind, and the doubt that is there is mostly just a product of my disbelief. Without it, I think I would have seen it earlier. I've kissed Gabe Rodgers. Touched him. He touched me .

Holy fuck.

But why all the secrecy? Why pretend to be someone else? Is he ashamed to be into me? Or is he not actually into me, and this is just some kind of game?

The bitter notes of strong coffee reach my psyche, and I blink my eyes, refocusing on the here and now. Elliot is holding a steaming mug out to me. "You look like you're going to be sick."

"I didn't sleep much," I say, gratefully accepting the cup. "Thanks for letting me stay here. I'll be out of your hair today."

"Come on, man. You know you're welcome to stay. And we might have a vacancy. Maybe student services would let you move in here."

"What do you mean? What happened to Jimmy?" I'd noticed him missing since Friday night's scrimmage. He was sick or something, so I assumed he'd had to call out for the rest of the weekend.

"The team gets routine medical checks and drug tests," Elliot says, and that's enough for me to know what happened. Everyone suspected he might be taking steroids, but no one had proof to confront him with it. And no one was going to rat him out. It just happened naturally. It's not too much of a surprise.

I look toward Jimmy's door, which is just across from Gabe's room. "I'll, um… I'll think about it."

Elliot's eyebrow raises. "Why would you need to think about it? We're brothers, Ellis. I know you wanted to do your own thing at Huntston, and you're doing it. You can still do it, even if you live here. Hell, we barely see each other in passing during the week anyway, and once the season starts, Gabe and I will almost never be here."

"I don't think the school would let me stay here. "

"I don't see why they wouldn't. It's an empty room, not being used. Tell them your roommate is a homophobic asshole. They'll understand why you need to move out. I'm sure I could get Coach to make a case that you're practically part of the team now."

"I thought I didn't have to do this bat boy shit after the exhibition games. Isn't Brandon coming back?"

"It's up in the air," he says, frowning. "But either way, you're doing it now. And the team loves you. No one would give you any shit here."

It's tempting. Really tempting. But I'm not sure I can live in the same space as Gabe. What if he doesn't want to do this once he knows I've figured him out? How could we live in the same space after that? How could I look him in the eye? It's going to be hard enough pretending I don't know what I know. I don't think I can think clearly with him so close.

"I'll keep it under consideration, but I'm sure it'll be fine," I tell him, rinsing my mug in the kitchenette sink. "I'm going to head out. I need to get into my dorm to get my books and some clothes before my first class, and Brad is usually gone earlier than me on Mondays."

"No need," comes a gruff voice as the front door bangs open. Gabe walks in with my backpack and my gym bag that rarely gets used. He drops them both on the couch and turns to look at me. My heart stutters a little. "I didn't know what you needed, so I grabbed a bunch of shit. Your laptop and sketch pads are in with your books," he says before stomping toward his room.

"Um… Thanks," I mutter, feeling overly warm. Did he look through the sketch pads before packing them? I'm afraid to look him in the eye, worried he'll see my panic about the sketchpads and the secret I figured out last night .

"Gabe?" Elliot calls out. "Do we need to get the guys together to hide the body?"

"Not this time," he quips. "Gonna take a nap before my eleven o'clock class." Gabe disappears into his room, the door closing sharply behind him. I stare at the door until Elliot gets my attention.

"Get dressed. We'll grab some breakfast before our first classes."

I'm in a daze for the rest of the week. I haven't returned to my dorm, and I'm too nervous to take Elliot up on his request. I've been couch surfing with my other friends, mostly sleeping at Ivy's. Her roommate is fine with me being there, but it's technically against the rules to have overnight guests, and gay or not, a guy sleeping in the women's dorm is a big no-no. I've stayed with Antoni a few nights too, but he can be a bit much. Last night, he made me wear some ridiculous, smelly clay face mask that itched until it dried into a tight crust that had to be chipped off my face. That was followed by under eye patches and a moisturizing overnight mask. Admittedly, my skin has never looked or felt better, but I am just not up for that every night. I didn't realize being beautiful was so exhausting.

I'm tired of bouncing around from couch to couch. I need to go back to my dorm, but avoiding confrontation while I try to process my feelings about the Gabe issue felt necessary. Not that it's helping. I can't look him in the eye, or figure out what to say to him.

Earlier, Elliot texted that Coach had given them the go-ahead for me to stay with them, at least temporarily, but I'm going to tell him I can't stay here. The anticipation and stress over running into Gabe would send me into some kind of breakdown. Elliot has been dogging me, so I agreed to stay at their place tonight before heading back to my dorm tomor row. But I'm just going to have to put on my big boy undies and deal with Brad until the end of the year.

It's after eleven by the time I walk into the apartment, but Gabe is still up, sitting at the kitchen island that doubles as a table. He straightens when I walk in, but I saw him with his head in his hands.

Shit. Does he know I figured it out?

I've still been messaging him as JOHNNY, to give me time to figure out what to do or say, but he's been distracted, too. A glance at the textbooks and notecards strewn about the table gives me a good idea of why.

"Big test coming up?" It's probably the first time I've spoken to him directly since the night I put it all together.

"Something like that, yeah."

"What are you studying for?"

"Everything," he says, looking absolutely dejected. I quirk an eyebrow questioningly, and he answers with a pained smile. "My mid-semester grades were rough. If I don't pull my shit together, I could lose my scholarship."

"Shit." I can't think of anything better to say. I desperately want to hug him, but that's probably not going to help anything.

He huffs out a sardonic laugh. "Yeah. Shit."

"Can I help?"

Gabe's eyes meet mine, brows furrowed. Fuck, I shouldn't do this. I'm just going to put myself in a more awkward position, but I can't stand to see him look so defeated. The lies between us are nothing, because I'd do anything for him .

"I could help you study? We have some of the same classes, and the rest I could use an answer sheet to quiz you with."

"I'm sure you have enough going on?—"

"I really don't," I tell him, honestly. Considering he's the one I've been distracting myself with, and that is going to come to an end eventually, there's nothing else filling my time outside of my regular class and studio schedule.

"What about this guy you're seeing?" He asks in a low, strained voice.

I look away from him, afraid he'll see through me. Is this my chance? Do I tell him, or will that stress him out more? It's not as if I haven't been searching for a way out of telling him I know. Every time I think I'm ready to tell him, I convince myself he'll put an end to all of it, that he'll turn away from me or run away from the situation entirely. It's one reason I can't stay here. Because being in the same space after everything falls apart will be excruciating. But the longer I can put it off, the longer I can pretend, the longer I can have him in all the ways I've dreamed about. Although, in my dreams, he looked me in the eyes when he told me he wanted me. But I'll take what I can get. For a little while longer, anyway.

"It's not serious," I say, gauging his reaction through my peripherals as I push around Gabe's books and papers to look at what he's studying. "He'll understand."

I give Gabe a tight-lipped smile, heart clenching at the sad expression in his eyes. "Don't worry," I tell him. "We'll get these grades up, no problem. It'll probably take time away from your girlfriend, too, though."

"It's not serious," Gabe mutters.