Chapter Twenty
I'm in the library with Sebastian when Mark sits in the chair next to me. I look up from my notebook at him in surprise. Sebastian's bright eyes flick up, acknowledging his presence, and his attention immediately returns to his books. Mark faces me, sitting sideways, and his gaze slips from my face to my books.
"Shoe shopping a no-go?" he asks, his voice blank and his expression unreadable.
I squeeze the pen. "I assumed you wouldn't want to anymore." Since I was, once again, a dick to you .
"I do. If you're not busy," Mark adds. Something about his tone and gaze is more reserved than I'm used to. Standoffish.
I swallow my nerves. "I just need to check this out first," I say, closing the book.
As we leave the library and get into his car, I'm certain that I'm not imagining it—Mark is being different. I'm sure he's upset about earlier.
I sit next to him, too ashamed of how I acted again to even apologise.
"I'm sorry about what he said," Mark says.
"It didn't upset me. And he has a point. It was nice of him to invite me, given everything."
Mark's hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Then why did you pull away?"
Mark was asking a lot, wanting me to tell him why I acted the way I did. It's impulsive and reactive, most of the time, and it goes against what I actually want to do. "I'm fine when it's Tommy and Chris. But around other people…I have a hard time being normal. I feel like they'll make fun of me for liking you and I get defensive." My voice gets lower the longer my sentence goes on, and it's hard to follow through and finish it. I haven't even worded it right. I'm not afraid of being made fun of. It's a lot more than that.
Mark's brows pinch together. He glances in the car mirror and indicates for the next turn, parking in a business lot. He turns the key in the ignition, turning off the engine.
"Eddie wouldn't make fun of you," Mark says, turning toward me.
"I don't know him," I reply, evasive. Except I do know him. His face. Eddie's face is the problem.
Mark rubs the back of his neck, looking at me thoughtfully. I can see the gears ticking behind his eyes as he thinks things through.
"Did someone give you a hard time before? About liking a guy?" Mark finally asks tentatively.
The question sparks a plethora of bad memories. Mortification. Humiliation. The worst of the moments—where I'd been sobbing in a bathroom stall at school because my idiot brother told the sub I fancied him and then everyone started to say it—echoes in the back of my mind. I got dragged into a meeting with my parents, the principal, and a police officer who questioned me a thousand times to verify that there had been no inappropriate contact between me and the sub. Humiliation was too tame a word to describe what I experienced in that moment. I refused to go to school for months, and while that spared me from the other kids at school, there was nothing to stop my brothers from continuing their teasing. Not while Chris was away.
I grimace and instinctively angle away from Mark. "My brothers were the worst for teasing me about liking anyone," I say normally, but honestly, the feelings swarming me right now would have me cursing at Mark if he was touching me.
"Chris being the exception?" Mark asks.
"He always looked out for me," I confirm, relaxing slowly. I sink into my seat, so I'm not angling away from Mark anymore. "And he'd make sure they left me alone. But he's been taking out climbers since he was twenty. Since I was ten, he'd be gone for months at a time. I wished more than anything that I could go with him." I bite my lip but make myself continue. "I had a bad experience in school. I actually missed a lot of time because of it, and since then, I've just been…I guess anxious is the right word. About my sexuality. I've never officially come out to anyone, ever. Not after all that."
From Mark's expression, I get the feeling that he has a lot to say. He probably wants to ask more, too, since I'm being vague. But I don't want to talk about it more than this. I want my past to stay as vague mentions, remote and far away.
"I'll work on it," I say, though I cringe at how it sounds. We went on one date; this feels weighty and out of place to declare.
"I'll keep it in mind, too, not to push you in front of people you're not comfortable with. And if I don't notice, please tell me. I don't want you to be anxious while we're spending time together." Mark is all sympathy and understanding. Because of course he is. I can't believe I worried there would be any other reaction. Even the hints of frustration I've seen in Mark before have never been directed at me.
I nod, glad we talked, embarrassed that I'm here trying to excuse my behaviour. I sigh, frustrated. Mark seems so perfect. I'm a mess in comparison. "I wish I could have approached you normally."
"I don't," Mark says.
I cast him a questioning look.
"Because of my parents," Mark continues, "I was approached by a lot of people. I grew up surrounded by people who smile at you while thinking about how much they hate you. Or people who laugh and joke with you one second, only to rip you apart the moment you're out of earshot. My parents are the worst of them, and my brother took after them like a duck to water. I can't even remember how many times I got close with someone I thought was a friend, only for it to turn out their parents had sent them to befriend me to get an in to the family house." Mark winces. "I learned that anyone approaching me with a smiling face and a good attitude had an ulterior motive."
Mark releases a deep breath and inclines his head toward me. "I stopped dating people because when I try, I get this creeping doubt that they're with me because they're after something, and only using me to get it." His eyes flick to me. "If you had approached me normally—" Mark snorts, a self-deprecating smile curving his lips. "There is not a chance I would think the pretty boy flirting with me was anything other than another trap. However, the pretty boy who curses at me, and tells me to fuck a different animal every time we speak? All the while looking at me like he wants to be that animal?"
I go crimson. "Mark."
Mark grins. "I'm not blind, Kyle."
I wish he would lower the windows down to let in fresh air. As embarrassed as I am, it's not the bad kind that makes my stomach twist, and I want to show Mark that I can push through being shy. "Tommy said that. That you like me," I admit.
Mark's eyebrows lift. "You needed Tommy to tell you? I haven't been subtle—or secretive—about my interest or feelings. If this weekend didn't convince you that I like you, I'm not sure anything can."
"You like me even though I've been awful to you for two years?"
Mark rolls his eyes. "What was awful, Kyle? You tackling me to cop a feel? You spitting out curses while you stare at me as if you're imagining having your way with me on the court? We both know why wrestling club only lasted one evening."
"Mark!" I'm embarrassed—but I'm also smiling? I cover my mouth, but the laugh escapes regardless.
"There was also the time—"
I physically block his mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about."
I can see the smile in Mark's eyes.
He stares at me until I lower my hand. "Shall we go shoe shopping?" he asks.
I nod.
I mull everything over as we drive into the shopping district. "I'm sorry that you had a hard time with your family," I say. "I've insulted you a few times about being upper class—I never meant it." It's hard to get my head around what he told me. That he had been used so much that he lost trust in people approaching him…Given his personality, it's impossible to picture anyone taking advantage of Mark. I wonder, is it intentional that he comes across that way?
"What about Sebastian?" I ask as Mark tries on a pair of hiking boots in his size. "Is he like the rest of your family?"
"No, which is why he's here with me," Mark answers. "If Sebastian has something on his mind, he tells you. Usually, he's telling me and Eddie that we're idiots."
"He was calling you and Tommy that at the volleyball game."
Mark snorts. "I bet he was." He stands up and walks around the aisle in the boots.
I watch him. "How do they feel?"
"Snug."
"Try the next size up. It's better to be slightly too big than tight."
Mark sits and bends to undo the laces.
"What about Eddie?" I ask. "How did you two end up friends?"
"We ended up in the same college house. Me, him, three other guys…" Mark grimaces. "I almost dropped out after dealing with the mess. Eddie was the worst of them. Yet after a year of bickering, I didn't hesitate when he suggested we rent an apartment for the next year. Of course, our apartment of two became three when Sebastian moved in."
"He always had your back during club meets."
"And I'm sure he always will. And Kyle…" Mark slowly sits up. His cheek indents for a moment, like he's biting the inside. It relaxes as he breathes out. "Eddie has known I'm gay from the first time we've met. I've lived with him for two years, and he's never, not once, made even the smallest remark about me liking guys. Not even if I did some mental gymnastics, would I be able to twist something he said to mean anything negative about my sexuality, either. He's a good guy, and I know him well enough to know he's never made any comments like that to you. I know you two don't get along, but I don't want you to think that means he'd give you grief for being gay. Alright?" Mark's dark eyes meet mine. "And I know that telling you this won't magically make the anxiety you feel around him disappear, but I hope it can help a little. Eddie is like my Tommy. He's always had my back."
I suddenly feel terrible about how I've been acting around Eddie. And at the same time, I can't help but appreciate Mark's patience.
Mark is safe .
I keep my nerves calm and breathe out as I sit next to him. "Eddie," I begin carefully. "Looks like the guy I fancied in school. And when I see him, it's not even as if the memories come swarming back, but more like, someone is grabbing a hold of my stomach in their fist. I feel like a bundle of stress, and when I try to interact with you when I feel like that, it always comes out wrong."
Mark straightens. "Wait. Hang on one second. Eddie reminds you of your crush? Not the bullies?"
I blink, his aghast tone catching me off guard. Kind of killing all the careful momentum I had built up to actually tell Mark. "Yeah?"
"My best friend is your type?"
I blink again. Mark's expression was all compassion and understanding a second ago, now it's irritation. "I mean, that wasn't really the point of me telling you all that."
"I can't believe this."
"Mark." I press my lips together hard. He's being serious. I can see that he's being serious, that the vexation in the way he runs his fingers through his hair, rough and jerky, is real. "You're killing the mood. I was opening up to you." I'm barely keeping the laugh in. My tension is gone, dissipated into nothing.
"He's not even good looking."
"Mark." My forehead bumps into his shoulder. I cover my mouth, but the laugh gets out.
"This isn't funny."
"You're ridiculous."
Mark mutters something under his breath that I don't pick up. "He's actually a total asshole," he says, louder. "His personality is literally the worst I've seen in anybody."
"I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear what his best friend thinks of him," I remark. "Let's get this pair," I can see the hiking boots fit well on Mark, though he's totally lost interest in them.
"I was twelve," I add, when Mark doesn't speak. "You're my type now."
Mark puts his arm around my shoulder. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," I confirm, leaning in against his side.
"Where to next? Mine for dinner? Sebastian will be in the library until ten, and Eddie is out with Bethany. There will be nobody to be nervous around." Mark's tone changes back to its usual soothing timbre.
"Sounds good."
After paying and heading out, Mark catches my hand as we walk onto the street. "I appreciate you opening up, Kyle." I look at his face to see his cheeks have reddened. "Even if I did just focus on the wrong point entirely." He casts me an embarrassed smile.
If anything, Mark just made the entire conversation easier for me. Lightened it. To the point where I didn't even feel the heaviness of what I had shared.