Five

Nic

H e's probably embarrassed. That's got to be why he's still not home. I'm not sure why it bothers me so much, but I do wish we could just get this over with. Cade being gone is as much a relief as it is absolutely maddening. He makes me crazy when he's not even here. I keep waiting, expecting him to walk his bratty ass through the door at any second and tell me he's going to tell my dad on me or something.

I shouldn't have done it, but fuck. He asked for it. I tried to ignore him, but he did not make it easy. He made it impossible, actually.

I groan through clenched teeth, not wanting to voice any of my frustrations. I called him immature, but I wasn't exactly the picture of sophistication either.

But he did ask for it. Practically begged me to react—made sure I did by going on and on and on. Bumping into me, stealing tables, stealing food. I may be immature, but he's a toddler.

I might have overreacted, though. A little bit.

I don't know how to feel about what I did when the dam finally broke. The little warning squeeze I gave him two days ago was nothing compared to what I did a few hours ago. That was assault. Violent.

I just wanted to shut him up and teach him a lesson. I didn't expect it to backfire like that. Punch me? Sure. That makes all the sense there is. Pop a fucking woody against my thigh?

Yeah, I still don't really understand the logistics of that.

I used to tease him whenever I could about his obsession with Liam, and I definitely had my suspicions. But I never had any concrete proof to confirm. As far as I know, Cade is straight.

The music playing in my ears is quiet enough that I hear it when my new roommates start laughing out in the hall, the closed door keeping me out of the loop. When I recognize one of the muffled voices as Cade's, I'm moving.

I don't like confrontation, but I like avoiding confrontation even less. All that does is cause stress, and I'd really rather just rip the bandaid off.

I can hear him speaking to Baby before I pull the door open.

"What is this?" Baby places a hand on the side of Cade's neck––or tries to––making Cade flinch. The move has me feeling a conflicting mix of smugness and guilt. "Are those hickeys? What the heck was goin' on over at Gerty's?" Baby is overjoyed at the notion that someone was sucking on Cade's skin, but I'm pretty sure it's just from my fingers digging into his soft flesh. I can't see the marks, but I know they're there.

I'm not crazy—I didn't really want to suffocate him. Not at first. I just wanted to prove a point, maybe scare him. I was holding him with a purpose, being deliberate in trying not to actually suffocate him. Him staying cocky had my hand acting on its own, squeezing where a normal person would have let go.

To be fair, I don't think a normal person would have done any of that to begin with.

Cade denies Baby's accusation but offers no explanation, and it's obvious he's grateful Baby is nice enough not to press the issue. Instead, he turns to me, something Cade is actively avoiding.

"And where were you, Nicolas? I needed someone tall earlier, and somehow, all of my tall roommates were gone."

"Working. Got a job at Gerty's Grubhouse." I love the way this little twink's eyes light up when I say it, the way he snaps his attention back to Cade and zeroes in on his neck. It played out exactly how I wanted.

"Oh. I see."

"You don't––you see nothing ," Cade bites, placing a palm on his bruises before quickly dropping his hand, realizing that all he's doing is drawing more attention to what he wants to hide.

"Okay. Sensitive." Baby side-eyes me, a playful little smile on his face. "But then, I guess that many hickeys would be, huh?"

He thinks I kissed my stepbrother. That's––hm. It bothers me, but compared to the truth, I guess it's okay. He most likely wouldn't understand. I'm not even sure that I do.

"Do you want to go to Class with us tonight?" Baby effectively changes the subject.

"Class?"

"It's a gay club."

That has my eyes moving to Cade again because why would he be going to a gay club? "You're going?" I ask, wanting some clarification.

The composure he was wearing cracks when he looks at me, his lips pursing as he fights his anger. Or maybe it's not anger but embarrassment? Both?

"Yes," he grinds out, triggering an involuntary tick in my jaw. It seems he learned no lesson.

I decide that I don't care if he's developed a liking for dick over the years and focus my attention back on Baby. "Yeah, I'll go."

I actually didn't know that's what I was going to say, but it's a done deal. I'm going. Fuck knows why, but maybe it'll be fun.

Of course, Cade is standing a foot away to remind me why that's a crazy thought to have.

He scoffs, moving into the room awkwardly in an attempt not to touch me as he goes. But I'm taking up the doorway, which means he is once again knocking into me. He has no fucking manners, but then I remember who his mom is, and I suppose that makes sense.

The only reason he gets to shut the door with me still in the hallway is because Baby does this thing where he just doesn't shut up, and I get stuck listening to him babble about what kind of club he's dragging me to tonight.

I barely listen. Cade is going to a gay club, and I can't get over it. What does it mean? I'd written the boner off to some weird adrenaline, but now it's a possibility that it was something else entirely. There's a chance that I understand him a little better, the kinds of things that get him going, and it's kind of blowing my perception of him to pieces.

Dick and hand necklaces.

I have to smother a laugh as Baby keeps talking.

∞∞∞

C lass is somehow wilder than Baby described. They've stuck to the classroom theme to the point of almost overdoing it, but it's the amount of people here that makes it feel intense. I've been here ten minutes, if even, and have been clipped by an elbow on all sides. After the shit Cade put me through today, I'm having a hard time not letting each hit––accidental or not––get to me. I honestly regret coming. I'm not even sure why I did.

Cade. I know it had something to do with him, but now that I'm here––heart pounding a little too hard, sweat making my shirt cling uncomfortably to my skin, and hackles rising the tiniest bit every time I'm touched by some stranger––I know that it wasn't worth it. Maybe I wanted to mess with him, show him that I couldn't be ignored, but right now, that doesn't sound so bad.

If anything, he's the one with all the power here. Annoying me by just existing. Went from pressing his boner against me to staying away from me—always in my line of sight, but not close enough to touch.

When Baby hands me a shot, I can't decide if I want to take it or not. It could be nice. Maybe. But I'm on meds that it wouldn't mix well with, and I'm trying to be better about things like this. It's awkward, though, admitting you're a twenty-one-year-old college kid who doesn't drink, so I do take it in my hand –– hold it for a bit like a moron.

I just want to fit in, I guess, even if it makes me a little sick to my stomach just to be here, to have this shot glass in my hand. Cade makes it worse, of course. He downs his shot quickly, seems to swallow it without a second thought.

It hits me, for fuck knows how many times at this point, just how easy things are for him. I force myself not to fixate on him, follow his lead, and keep my attention on anything but him.

My new resolve only lasts a few minutes, though. Baby lost interest in me when his attempts at conversation fell flat, and he's made friends with a few others and is busy dancing with them. So my eyes find Cade once again. And then again.

A part of me had assumed that he was some kind of interested in men as the night progressed because why else would he be here? Plus, with the whole hard-dick-against-my- thigh thing earlier, it just makes sense that he would be some shade on the rainbow. But seeing it is something else entirely.

Cade is an agressive flirt. Handsy as fuck. The kind of ballsy that would have me balking, but for whatever reason has the few guys he's moved through tonight going putty in his hands. I can see how he'd be considered hot enough to get away with it, but it's still strange to see so many guys enjoy it. And he always ends up moving on, leaving them either pissed or confused, even though each one of them has clearly been interested in more.

He's a bit slutty with it, to be honest. An attention whore, maybe. A fucking tease at the very least. I can't look away.

And Baby's stick-together rule means that I get to witness all of it. Like right now, I have a front-row seat as Cade slips his hand over some twink's navel, his mouth moving against the guy's ear as Cade whispers something that has his eyes fluttering shut. What the fuck could he be saying that would warrant that reaction?

I don't know, but thinking about it has my whole body tensing. I'm on the dance floor, barely moving because he keeps distracting me. It feels like my skin is vibrating, uneasiness clawing at every inch of me. The shot glass is still in my hand, being held with my fingertips as I hide it at my side. It might be empty by now, with as many times as I've been jostled. I'm about to check when a hand slaps heavily on my shoulder, and I drop the thing altogether.

"Hey there!"

I have to turn to see who it is, shooting them a glare because I'm in a mood, and that greeting fucking sucked. He's a fairly built guy with a broad grin to match that broad chest of his. The type I usually go for—someone easily matched with me—and my dirty look doesn't even throw him off, so I know he can handle a little attitude. He kind of reminds me of Cade, only his goofy smile is actually pointed at me.

Cade doesn't smile at me like this—not ever. His grins are usually self-assured, the kind that makes me want to slap it off his face—not at all like the smiles he's wearing tonight. Those smiles are like gay-guy magnets, has all kinds of men flocking to him. But they're not pointed at me.

Actually, now that I've had a second to look, they don't really look alike. This guy is a brunette. That's their only similarity, so I'm a little bothered that I compared them at all. Thoughts of Cade are infesting my mind, making it so that every single thing I see has me finding some connection to him. It's gross.

I lean in close to hear what the stranger says and only catch it at the end as he asks if I want to go sit down. I do want that. I very much want that and am nodding my head and moving off the dancefloor as soon as he finishes asking.

I shoot a glance over my shoulder, looking for Baby to tell him I'm moving, but I find Cade instead. He's watching me, doesn't even bother looking away as I catch him in the act. He still has his hands on the guy from earlier, the one currently grinding himself all over Cade. Not that he seems to notice, his eyes too busy glowering at me to give the poor dude any attention.

It has my stomach tightening, an awareness sweeping over me in a way that makes me feel one of those pesky emotions mixed with smugness again. This time, instead of guilt, it's something close to satisfaction. It shouldn't be as annoying as it is, but if anyone could make satisfaction something negative, I suppose it would be Cade.

But still. The restlessness I was suffering is settling into something much more comfortable, a low hum rather than the violent thrumming from before. It makes me feel like I have the upper hand, me being the one who caught him in a pissy mood over me . Especially knowing he's ignoring the person who is still all over him. I don't know why he's glaring and refusing to look away, but I like it. It's enlivening, in a way. Like maybe I wanted his attention on me all along. It has my mood perking up, a physical smile and a mental middle finger pointed his way.

Seems only fair, honestly. It was feeling frustratingly one-sided, this gross compulsion to just look at him. I let him see the cocky grin on my face before turning away from him and following this random guy off the floor.

"So, I thought I'd rescue you."

"Huh?" I didn't catch anything he just said, and the laugh he lets out tells me he knows it.

"I was saying you looked lonely out there. Seemed like you needed a friend." He shrugs, his mouth pulled in that crooked grin that doesn't seem to waver. When I don't say anything, he tries again. "So, you come here often?"

I chuckle, more out of politeness than anything at the lame joke. I wouldn't usually bother, but I'm still riding the high that came with pissing off Cade, and it's partly thanks to this guy. "First time."

"Yeah? That's cool. Any chance you want to hit detention?"

I let out a full-on laugh at that, have to. "No thanks." Baby told me that it was a barely lit room filled with horny guys getting each other off, and unless I was down with that, I should say no to detention invites. The Zoloft kind of kills most of my sex drive anyway. "Not my thing."

"Ah." He nods, still grinning, obviously not too miffed at the rejection.

"What's your name?" I ask when he doesn't show signs of moving on to someone else.

"Corby." He holds his hand up when my smile grows. "It's the name I was given, man, I don't know."

"I'm Nic."

It's kind of crazy how much one little glare from Cade cheered me up. I'm able to comfortably chat with this guy––no pressure to impress since I've already turned him down, and on most days, it would be much harder. I'm good with people, but only when I try—and it's rare that I'm in the mood to try. Right now, though, it's relatively painless.

It doesn't hurt that we have some things in common. I find out he goes to the same college I'll be going to, studying psychology –– the field I'm interested in. He says it's possible we'll see each other—likely be in a class or two together, and I think I'd be okay with that.

When he orders drinks, I don't want to decline. I take my meds in the mornings anyway. I doubt it'll hit me too hard now. It's not like I make a habit of it. And if I start feeling too dizzy, I can stop.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" he asks as we're finishing up our third drink. Or, I am, anyway. I don't know how many he's had, but it's clearly more than me.

"No," I answer easily, though I'm a little worried he maybe isn't taking the rejection as well as I'd thought. Maybe Corby being drunk has him forgetting, or at least desperate enough to try again. I hope not. I don't really have friends––and Baby is nice, but I don't want Cade's friends. Part of me moving forward, the plan my therapist and I worked on, included making an effort to make connections . That's the word she used, claiming that I haven't made any meaningful ones since I was much younger.

"Why not? Can't manage to convince anyone to put up with you?"

"You're projecting." I roll my eyes, keeping things light by joking along with him. "I could have had you, remember?"

"Yeah, well, I'm desperate." He shrugs. "Before I came along, you were standing there all alone. Looking sad."

"Pfft." I wave a hand, physically sweeping that thought away. If I were being honest, I might actually agree with that, but right now, I'm feeling buzzed. Not sad. "I could have anyone I want."

This time, it's him who rolls his eyes.

"I could!" I insist. "Anyone."

"Wanna bet? Say, fifty bucks?" He swallows the rest of his drink and smiles at me as he places his ice-filled cup back on the table.

"Well, I'm not looking for––"

"That's what I thought!" he cuts me off, laughing a little and annoying me enough that I bristle.

"I'm just not in the mood for any of that right now."

"Says the guy who can't get none."

"That's a double negative," I grumble, but he's too drunk to understand the grammar policing right now. "What if––" I sigh. "I'll just get someone's phone number. Then you owe me fifty bucks."

"I get to pick the person," he says way too animatedly, but I shrug. Whatever. I've never had a problem getting some when I want it––it's just been a while since I have. "A phone number is too easy, though. You have to kiss them."

That has my spirits sinking. I don't do that––for reasons I'm not willing to dive into it at the moment, but I don't want to explain that to this guy I just met. Kissing is… not something I can do.

I think about it for a moment—just a few seconds too long—before deciding that I'm buzzed enough that maybe a simple kiss won't bother me too much, and then I'm agreeing to this bullshit bet. A peck. I can handle that.

He holds his hand out, and I roll my eyes as I shake it. When he points––with a smile that tells me he clearly thinks I'm going to strike out––I turn around and find the stranger he wants me to smooch.

"Alright." Of course, the guy he points to is standing pretty close to the one person in the massive crowd who hates me. He's even glaring at me as I stand up, still hanging by Baby but much closer to the bar now. He's not as brave this time around and looks away quickly, but I have a feeling he'll look again, and that thought pushes my feet across the room.

Just a kiss. Possibly while Cade watches me. I can do this. I kind of hate spit, the feel of a tongue on mine makes me gag. It's why I usually avoid kissing altogether

"Hi!" I speak loudly, having to lean in close to a guy just about my size. I have no game, but I'm drunk and could use fifty bucks—and really want to annoy Cade—so I utter a simple, "Want to kiss me?" and hope it works.

It does. The guy is attractive, darker skinned with dreads that fall forward and skim my cheek when he leans in to lay one on me. His lips are warm as they cover mine, instantly taking complete control of the kiss. It makes me nervous and has me stiffening up in anticipation of a tongue. My palms only just touch his chest to push him when I feel myself being tugged away from behind.

"He's too drunk!"

It's fucking Cade, yelling at the random dude who just won me fifty dollars for no reason. I'm almost grateful because I was just about to push him off of me, but mostly, I'm petty and annoyed that he's stepping in.

"What the fuck, Cade?"

"You're shitfaced—we gotta go."

"No! We—" But the guy is gone. I give Cade a glare, but see Corby walking up behind him.

Corby––which I've decided is a stupid ass name––just laughs as shoves his way past my stupid ass roommate. "Did you lie, Nic—do you actually have a boyfriend?"

"He's my stepbrother." I leave it at that, letting it explain both questions.

His brows jump to his hairline, mild shock still on his face as he starts talking. "Stepbrothers count as anyone too, y'know? Fifty more bucks, and—"

"Absolutely not."

He laughs into his cup, which definitely doesn't have anything but melted ice in it by now. "It would be pretty hot, though. And he looked crazy jealous just now."

"No, it isn't. And he was not."

"It is, and yes, he was."

"The game is over!" I yell. "You lose. Pay up, sucka."

"Mm, alright, I guess." He reaches into his pocket to grab his wallet, finally giving me my money. "But that sucks for you because he's hot."

I ignore that last part and look over his shoulder to see Cade glaring at me as Baby hangs off his arm. Cade has always been someone I know is attractive, and I guess he is pretty close in looks to the guys I've been with. Guys kind of like Corby, but both he and my stepbrother are annoying.

Cade is still glaring at me as Corby tells me I should hit him up sometime, and I can't explain how happy it makes me. The kiss didn't make him jealous, but it did piss him off for some reason, and I'm all about that.