20. Lane

Of all the things to feel guilty about, I never thought avoiding Noah would be one of them. I stayed out all day yesterday, either in the gym or hanging out with Danny and his friends—I still don't quite feel like I've integrated into the group. I'm trying. I just don't have much to say. I'm not up to date with the latest movies or video games, I haven't gone to any parties, and I'm not prone to talking about tits and ass as much as these guys are. But Danny still brings me along, trying to keep me involved.

I don't really feel like being here or around anyone. But I can't be cooped up in my room, and I don't want to look Noah in the eye.

I woke up feeling groggier than usual. The chair at my desk was pulled out, which I don't remember doing. And my door was open. So was Noah's, although he was still asleep on top of his covers.

He was awake by the time I finished in the bathroom, waiting in the hallway. The circles under his eyes were just as dark as mine, and it worried me. But what worried me more was the way he was looking at me, searching my eyes for something. I don't know what. But he kept looking at me like that until I decided I couldn't deal with this today.

He probably wants to talk about what happened yesterday morning. My face flushes just thinking about it. I have nothing to say, though. I'm not sure I've entirely processed that it really happened. I was still in a surreal fog when I returned to my room to see a bunch of missed calls and texts from my mother, and since then I've been doing my damndest not to think about any of it.

If I just pretend none of it's happening, it'll pass. Just like the memories I tamped down until recently, it'll all subside.The raid, the lawyer, the documentary, the things I let Noah do to me…

"Hey man, you good?"

I look up to see Danny hovering over me, sitting on the edge of the armchair I'm sitting in.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"You're not that great of a liar, you know," he says, leaning back so his elbow is resting on the back of the chair. Trying not to make it too obvious, I lean casually on the other arm to create more space between us and turn in his direction. His face shows concern. Pity.

My heart falls to my stomach, and the fist squeezes. I open my mouth to say something, but no matter what I say, I'll just confirm the implications that something is wrong. I don't know what he knows, but then his eyes cut over to where Miah is sprawled out with his legs over the arm of a chair, engrossed in some handheld video game.

"Who else did he tell?" I ask, quietly seething.

"What are you afraid he told me?" he answers cryptically.

"Danny, seriously, what do you know?" I take several slow, deep breaths and give him an imploring look.

He huffs out a breath. "Fine, I don't know anything. I overheard Miah mention you were going through something. If it helps, I told him he shouldn't gossip. But," he says with a pointed look, "I knew you had something going on with you. Why don't you trust me?"

I breathe a small sigh of relief that he doesn't know as much as Miah does. And while Miah has a big mouth, he doesn't know as much as he thinks he does, either. Still, I could strangle him.

Avoiding Danny's stare, I pull out my phone to text Noah. Maybe he can control his best friend.

Lane: If you don't tell your bestie to keep his mouth shut, I'm going to gag and waterboard him until he forgets he knows anything about my life.

Noah: Kinky ??

Noah: But seriously, I'll talk to him.

Noah: What happened?

Lane: He's getting loose lipped about my business, that's what.

"I'm your friend," Danny says. "You know that, right? I'm here if you want to talk. I don't know what you've gone through, but we have a lot in common. Of all people, I can understand what it's like to grow up in an environment where you have to hide who you?—"

"I don't have to hide anything," I growl. My face grows hot as Danny continues to look at me like he's sorry for me. I'm almost disappointed the rain stopped this morning, because that look makes me want to drown myself in a cold puddle.

"Ouch! What the fuck, man!?"

Looking up to see what the disturbance is, I see Miah rubbing the side of his head. Apparently, Noah has joined our impromptu get together. Whatever he did to Miah, though, he's no longer paying attention to his friend. Instead, he's locked a deadly glare on Danny.

I stifle a groan when I realize that Danny still propped over me, and I also mistakenly moved closer to him when I turned around to see what the commotion was about when Miah yelled.

I quickly put space between me and Danny, and my eyes dart around the sitting area. Most everyone is distracted by Miah being obnoxious, or engrossed in their own stuff. One or two people that are close to us are looking over curiously, because Noah is radiating tension.

Don't, I mouth to him, and shake my head as subtly as I can. The last thing I need right now is more attention on me, or for Noah to chase away my only potential ally here. If I wanted one, that is.

It's not like I haven't considered talking to Danny, not about everything, but maybe just to ask questions about how he balances his sexuality with his beliefs. But I feel like asking would only raise more suspicions, and he already suspects. Which is another thing I want to know—why is he suspicious? It's not like I'm walking around in skin tight rainbow t-shirts like the one he's wearing now, that has a soccer ball flying through the air, with a rainbow trailing off like a comet.

"Where do you get these shirts?" Noah asks as he comes over to us. He"s looking at Danny"s chest like it offends him.

Thankfully, Danny either doesn"t notice, or doesn"t care about Noah"s judgment. I suspect it"s more option two. He takes it all in stride, shrugging and telling us where he gets the shirt, like it"s no big deal that Noah is a douche canoe.

"My mom finds them for me. I feel like every time I go home, she has a new one for me."

"That"s cool," Noah says. "Does she not know what size you wear?"

Peters snorts, and I slap my palm over my face and groan. I want to make a comment about his equally tight pants, but I don"t want to point out that I noticed.

"Who invited you?" I say, swatting him on the back of the shoulder.

"Is that any way to treat your favorite brother?"

"You are not my brother," I say, because even though these guys don't know we"ve tasted each other"s cum, I know. I know, and I cannot let that one simple thing go unchecked.

"You two have the weirdest relationship," Danny says, but he"s laughing.

"Yo, the rain seems to be holding off. Let's walk down to Randy's and get pizza," one of the guys suggests, and there's an enthusiastic response among the group. It looks like most of the guys are going, but I hang back.

"Come on, big guy," Danny says, grabbing my arm to encourage me to follow him. "You promised to take me to get taco pizza the first chance we got. Looks like our chance for a pizza date has arrived."

Noah makes a weird sound and grinds his jaw. Danny winks at me. I look around to see if anyone has noticed this awkward exchange, but thankfully mostly everyone is filing out the door.

Everyone except the three of us, and Miah.

"Dude, did you get your period or something? Because you're a fucking grouch lately," he says to Noah. "I mean, like, no offense, but I think your stepbrother might be a bad influence."

"I've got a fucking bone to pick with you," Noah says.

Danny and I look at each other and nod, silently agreeing that we want no part in their squabble, and start walking towards the door.

"Well, what is it, then?" Miah snarks behind us. I turn around and see that he and Noah are following us out of the dorm building.

"We'll talk about it later," Noah says irritably, walking fast to catch up with us.

I have to smile at his ridiculousness. He's so sensitive about me being around Danny, it almost smells like jealousy. He fits himself in between us, and eventually I pull back just to get some space from how ridiculous he's being. So now I'm walking behind him, with Miah behind me, eyes glued to his phone. I'm using all of my energy pretending not to look at Noah's ass in those skinny jeans he's wearing. He looks like a skater boy with his unlaced Converse sneakers, tight black jeans, and a faded black shirt with the mouth from The Rocky Horror Picture Show on it. His hair, which he's been pulling into a ridiculous half-ponytail at the top of his head, is loose and damp, like he just got out of the shower. It's appealing, and I want to get closer to him so I can smell his body wash. I manage to control myself, mostly because I'm nervous about being around him in public.

At some point, Danny pulls back to walk with me, and Noah somehow ends up behind us, obviously listening to our conversation. I stick out a foot to trip him as we make our way inside the restaurant, but he manages to catch himself. Danny and I snicker, and the way he narrows his eyes just makes me laugh harder.

As much as I don't want anyone else to think there's anything happening between me and Danny, I'm finding it highly amusing to tease Noah with the possibility. I don't know why he cares, but he clearly does.

Noah sits at the very end of the table, probably expecting me to sit apart from everyone like I have been recently. Just to be contrary, I sit right in the middle of everyone. He stares daggers at me, and I laugh all over again. After a few moments of watching me laugh, he starts too. And I know we"re both thinking the same thing—we've somehow switched. He"s always the one in the middle, socializing with friends or teammates, and I"m usually the one sitting in the corner being antisocial.

The guys watch us, interrupting their conversations to stare at us while we crack up. Miah catches on and starts laughing, too. He points at me and then Noah.

"See, man? I told you. You're in full broody Lane mode."

"I am not broody," I say defensively.

Everyone at the table stares at me. Noah rolls his lips in to keep from laughing again, but he can"t hold it in. Pretty soon we"re all laughing, and Noah moves into the seat next to Miah. We order several taco pizzas to share, and it"s the best night I"ve had in a long time. I"ve had friends over the years, but nothing like this. I"ve always sat back and watched Noah laugh and enjoy his life, awkwardly obsessing over the way he interacts with people and how he"s so carefree. I"ve envied his ability to enjoy simple things like this—people, food, relationships, life.

My world has been flipped upside down so many times, I think I"ve had a hard time finding my footing and trusting that things won"t change again. I struggle to trust people, even when they prove themselves, like my mom. I don"t even trust myself.

The number of times the world has flipped in just the last forty-eight hours has kept me from gaining any equilibrium. And I could be spiraling. I could sink into a haze of shame, regret, guilt, and fear. I am afraid. Of everything that"s happening. With Noah. With the case against the leaders of Deliverance. With my past being ripped open for everyone to see.

Mom wants to talk when they come visit for the game, and I promised we would. But I don"t know how to talk about these things. I don"t want to talk about them, not with her or the lawyer. I don"t even talk about them with my therapist, whom I"ve continued to reschedule since moving into the dorm with Noah.

I just want to pretend. I want to smile and laugh with the friends I"ve made, and act like I"m just a normal guy. Looking around at each of the guys around me, screwing around and laughing and being overall disruptive to the mostly empty restaurant, I want this to be my life.

But it isn"t. And that peace only lasts so long, because avoidance isn"t an effective coping mechanism when your deepest secrets are being splattered all over the news.

"Hold on," Danny says, motioning for the group to calm down and pointing at the television mounted over the bar. "This is that cult church I was talking about," he tells Peters, who looks up at the screen. The volume is too low to hear, but the subtitles are big enough to read from where we are. It"s a commercial for the documentary they"re doing. My mom told me about it this morning. Since I don"t watch much TV or get on social media, I missed the announcement of a documentary they are doing about the compound. The detective told mom, but was assured that since we changed my name, I was safe from the media outlets finding out about me. Apparently, they were very thorough when searching for people to interview, but they haven't managed to track me down yet.

My attention is grabbed by movement at the end of the table. I watch Noah kick his best friend and shake his head, mouthing the word no with a threatening look. My heartbeat picks up. Miah knows about the compound. His big mouth talked about it all over soccer camp, but thankfully no one else from our graduating year went to camp with us. Noah didn"t stop him or defend me then. Is this part of our new arrangement? Or is he feeling bad for me? Or just protecting his toy from getting too damaged? Either way, what are the chances that Miah is actually going to keep his mouth shut about this?

Worry flashes in Noah"s eyes, and I follow his gaze back to the television screen. They"re flashing photos of the compound, teasing their exclusive access to tour the grounds. A picture of a tile room with a chair flashes on the screen, and the room spins. I rub my wrists, soothing a phantom pain.

I can"t breathe.

On the screen, they flash a mugshot of Dr. Andrews, who, as it turns out, wasn"t an actual doctor. Another mugshot, one of the church staff. I know what"s coming, but I can"t think of a way out of it quick enough. My body turns towards Noah, hoping he isn"t looking at the screen. I don't want him to see it. He"ll know. They"ll all know. They won"t need Miah to tell them, it"ll be right there for them to see.

Noah is definitely looking at the screen, but he"s not really paying attention. He's paying more attention to the guys, who are turned around or craning their necks to look at the TV.

Bam!A loud thud and the table lurching gets everyone's attention.

"Oh, shit! Damn it! Fuck. My bad." Noah looks up and flags one of the employees while everyone at the table scrambles to toss their napkins into the soggy mess that is Noah"s plate and lap. "Can we get some more napkins or a towel or something. I don"t know what happened." He stands and looks down at himself, face falling. "Well shit," he says, blotting at himself uselessly with a wet napkin, his face coloring. "I look like I fucking pissed myself," he mutters. The guys hear him, and they all start laughing again. Noah isn't laughing. He's annoyed, especially when a couple of the guys make jokes at his expense about whether pissing yourself is better than being face down in the mud like he was the other day.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, very funny," he grouses. He pulls some cash out of his wallet and throws it on the table. "Make sure the waitress gets that, will ya? I feel bad for the mess, but I"m out. I'm gonna run home before my dick shrivels up from the cold and I start attracting ants. See you guys tomorrow if practice is still on."

His eyes dart to me, and then quickly away. Miah watches him with narrowed eyes, clearly working it out before I do. Noah did that on purpose.

Still laughing at his misfortune, the guys wave him off with some good-natured jabs. A minute or so after he leaves, I stand up. "He"s going to track soda all through the apartment if I"m not there to clean up after him. Everything"s going to be sticky," I huff.

Noah has endlessly complained that I"m an obsessive neat freak, so no one is surprised by my reaction and doesn"t question me running off after him. Except for maybe Danny, who seems disappointed that I"m leaving.

"I"ll catch up with you later," I tell him.

As I"m leaving, I hear Taylor ask Danny if we"ve got something going on, and the pressure in my chest increases. I don"t stay to hear Danny"s answer, but I"m pretty sure he"ll set him straight. I hope.

It's sprinkling again, the cool drops waking me up enough that I realize I"m standing in front of the restaurant, bent over and sucking in air like I"ve been under water.

They're all going to know.Maybe not today, but soon. They'll all know.

I can't lose it here. My feet move, not paying attention to the direction they"re taking me. I can only hope that somewhere in the recesses of my brain, my internal compass will lead me home.

Just past the restaurant, Noah is waiting for me, leaning up against a light post. I tense, thinking that maybe he"s about to go off about having to humiliate himself to cover for me, or make some snide comment that, on a good day, might come off funny. Instead, his expression is as tense as I feel. He looks worried.

"Are you okay?"

"No," I answer honestly, maybe for the first time in my life.

He nods and pulls me to him. My entire body goes stiff, but Noah wraps his arms around my back and… hugs me. It"s strange.

"Relax, Lane. You"re allowed to hug your brother in public."

The more I melt into his embrace, the better it feels. Tears threaten, but I hold them back. I want to ask Noah to squeeze me as tightly as he can, until it hurts. Because it seems like that would feel good, and I feel like I"m unraveling. He lets go, but I don"t move right away, my mind spinning in too many directions at once.

Noah's hands are holding my shoulders, and he's trying to catch my eyes, but I can't look at him straight on. I'm too dizzy, and it's too real.

"You know?" I ask him, not bothering with specifics.

"I know something. But I have a feeling it's barely the surface."

I close my eyes and nod, trying to breathe through the pressure in my chest.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

My head shakes furiously from side to side. I just want it all to disappear. I want to disappear. My temples throb.

"Hey, Lane. Look at me. Focus on me, okay?"

I do what he says, but the edges of my vision are blurry and it only lasts a second before I look away, searching for an escape. I need to move, run, or rage, and I can't do that standing on this sidewalk between campus and a pizza restaurant.

"Alright. Alright," Noah says soothingly, looking at our surroundings as a light rain starts again. "Come with me, I have an idea."

I follow Noah blindly, not even bothering to ask him where we"re going. I really don"t care, as long as we can either get home, or far away from people, as quickly as possible. I"m done. I"m exhausted and I don"t think I can hold up this mask anymore today. I"m so out of my mind that I can"t process anything. The cacophony of noises and thoughts blurring together into an odd numbness. I've been numb since my mom broke the news about the documentary, and the wall I've built around myself these past four years crumbled around me. Numb in an uncomfortable way that makes me want to push the boundaries of my body and soul just to feel anything other than the bone-deep pain my memories are drowning me in.

My back hits something, jarring me back to my senses. The surface behind my back is damp and rough—the wide trunk of a tree in a tight copse that blocks out any view of the sky and the surrounding buildings. Fat drops of cold water splash against my skin intermittently as the canopy blocks most of the rainfall. Noah"s hands are hot through the wet fabric of my shirt that is plastered to my body. They make their way down my shoulders, chest, and stomach, before his fingers fumble with the drawstring on my athletic pants.

My brain takes a moment to catch up to what is happening, but my body seems to be perfectly on track. By the time Noah pushes his hand inside and wraps his fingers around my length, I"m hard and ready. When Noah drops to his knees and his warm, wet mouth encases my dick, I stop trying to think at all, and surrender to the pleasure. It overwhelms everything else. The rush of blood from my head to my crotch makes me lightheaded in a good way, and I lean back against the tree.

Noah alternates between taking me as deep as he can, and sucking on just the head. The change in sensations keeps me on edge in a different way, pulling all my attention to what Noah is doing to me. He strokes while he sucks, tests his gag reflex, and then goes back to the head. Every time I make a sound or jerk in his hold, it feels like he"s making a note, always coming back to that same action. Like he"s learning how to play an instrument.

He"s a quick learner. It doesn"t take long before I"m right there, calling out a warning that I"m going to come soon. Reminders of his cum splashing across my face flash through my mind, bringing me even closer to the edge. I"m seconds away from falling over and bursting in Noah"s hot mouth, when he abruptly stops.

A choked groan leaves me, and then reality hits and I look around, worried that maybe we've been caught. I can"t believe we were doing this outside. It's so reckless. It's a testament of how far gone I am that I've moved past not believing that we"re doing this at all.

Noah stands inches from my face, forcing me to focus on him while he tucks me gently back into my pants. I"m throbbing, almost in pain from being pulled back like that. Before I can open my mouth and ask what"s wrong, why he stopped, he cuts me off with two fingers placed over my lips.

"Let's get home so we can paint each other in cum," he says, pulling my hand until my back leaves the tree.

My brain completely shuts down, there's not one thought other than getting my chance to get my mouth on him playing on repeat. I don"t know how we make it back to our room, or if anyone saw us running through the rain, both of us with massive hard-ons. I don"t know if anyone heard Noah groan that he was going to paint me with his cum as he walked behind me in the stairwell. I think I imagined looking back and seeing him staring at my ass like he might want to reach forward and take a bite.

"Hurry," he says, as I"m struggling to get the key in the door. His tall, lithe body presses into me from the back, and we tumble into our apartment.