Chapter 36

THIRTY-SIX

" W hy, for the love of all that is holy, are we here?" Alice gapes, turning her face up to meet my wide, innocent eyes. Her hair is up in a bun, and she's wearing some leggings and an oversized shirt since I caught her during her movie marathon. "You like to work out, not me, so find yourself a buddy to do it with, not your sister. I am not made for exercise. I am made for comfort, naps, and snacks," she warns.

"I know all too well." I smirk, draping my arm over her shoulders and steering her across the parking lot to the gym. It's late, so it's empty, which is good since I know she'd be embarrassed if it wasn't. "I tried to get you to work out with me for years, and I kept finding you hiding behind machines, watching K-dramas on your phone."

"It's called exercising my mind and imagination." She huffs, trying to escape my hold, but she finally gives up and slumps reluctantly.

"Or watching, as you call them, daddy hotties." I smirk as I push through the door.

"Hey, I'm all about equal opportunities. The women are hot too. I'm no better than a man." That makes me raise my eyebrows, but she doesn't seem to realize what she said so I let it slide. Alice will talk to me when she's ready. If you push her, she fights back. My sister is as stubborn as I am, maybe even more so—she just hides it behind a polite smile.

Bones is already warming up inside, dancing across the gym mats while he waits. I texted him to make sure he was wearing a shirt because I'm not scarring my sister. Luckily, he agreed to do me this favor, which lets me know he's probably worried about what's happening on campus too. Besides, he always makes time to train anyone in self-defense—it's like his passion or hobby.

"Why am I here?" Alice asks, looking over at Bones.

"He's going to teach you some self-defense until I'm sure you can handle yourself in an emergency."

"Alek," she whines, pouting up at me.

"Not going to work, kid." I shrug. "I'm serious about this. Please, for me. I hate that something like that happened here. For fuck's sake, it's supposed to be the safest school in the country, not to mention the richest. I need to keep you safe."

Her eyes narrow on me, and it's times like these I'm scared of my sister. I swear she can read my mind.

"You're just upset and worried about Evan and using me as scapegoat to avoid being alone and overthinking everything," Alice mutters.

"Ouch." I press my hand to my chest. "Hitting me where it hurts. Please. Alley cat, do this for me? You're the only family I have left."

"Using the dead family card, you bastard, but you know it's true." She sighs as she turns to look at Bones. "But I'll do it for you, and when you stop worrying about me, you can start worrying about fixing your love life."

"I'll never stop worrying about you," I admit as I ruffle her hair. "That's what big brothers are for."

"And sisters are here to be a pain in the ass." She elbows me away. "Call Evan. Fix it."

As she rolls her shoulders back, walking toward Bones who is waiting for her, I can't help but let my own droop. "I can't. It's broken," I whisper, not wanting her to worry about me. It's my job to worry about her, not the other way around, and yes, maybe I'm using her as a reason to keep going, but I also want to keep her safe .

I wonder if Evan would train with Bones. I know he's skilled and can protect himself, but I don't like that he's on campus where this happened. He might hate me, might not want to see me again, but he'll understand that, right?

Pulling out my phone, I bring up our messages, hesitating over the keys. Will he ignore me? Probably. My stacked messages from the last week are still on read. Thumbing back, I swallow the pain in my heart as I read the flirtatious ones from before. I open the last picture he sent and rub my thumb across his smiling lips, wishing more than anything that I could fix this and be the man he deserves.

Clicking off it before I cry like a fucking loser, I hit call instead, hoping he'll answer. I walk outside, standing by the glass so I can keep my eye on Bones and Alice as I wait anxiously for him to pick up. It rings and rings, and I'm about to give up when the line clicks on.

My breathing is almost a pant, excitement and fear warring within me, and I'm left fighting in silence, unsure what to say.

"What, Alek?" He sighs.

"You answered," I blurt like a moron, my cheeks heating, but luckily he can't see.

"You're stubborn, so I knew you would just keep calling until I did. What's wrong?" He sounds tired, and I hate that it's probably my fault.

"I just want to make sure you're okay with everything that happened and—" I ramble.

"I'm fine." The word kills my hope. It's cold and calm, leaving no room for argument or for me to start a conversation. He's drawing a line, and I hate it, even if I know it's for the best.

I don't deserve Evan Shaw. I don't deserve to be happy or loved. This is just a reminder, but it doesn't stop me from trying. He's the only shred of light in the darkness of my life—the only shred of decency and happiness I've ever felt.

"Pretty boy . . ." I swallow, knowing I have no right to call him that now. "Evvie, please, I'm sorry. If I could just?—"

"You keep saying sorry," he murmurs. "I didn't even think you knew how to apologize, but here we are. A relationship shouldn't be you constantly hurting me and then apologizing. It should be filled with you finding ways not to hurt me again after apologizing. Just stop calling, Alek, okay? You're making this harder." His voice is soft, pained, and I hate it.

I hate all of this. I just want him here in my arms where he belongs. "If it's this hard, it isn't right," I admit.

He's quiet for a moment. "I realized something tonight." There's shuffling in the background—is he in bed? Was he thinking of me like I am of him? Does he miss me like I miss him? "I didn't mind waiting for you when I had hope. I could have waited forever, but you will never love me enough to overcome whatever it is that's stopping you from being you because you like your life. You like being miserable. You like being unhappy because it means you never have to lose anything again, and you will never want me more than that. Maybe it was wrong of me to try and force you to out yourself at the party, and I'm sorry for that, but I had to know what you would choose. It wasn't about you kissing or claiming me. It was about looking into your eyes while you thought about it. Do you know what I saw, Alek? You're scared. You're scared to be happy. You're scared to love someone, and because of that, you close yourself off and stop yourself from wanting anything so you don't get hurt. Maybe I'm foolish for trying with you when I knew how it would end, but at least I tried. I'm honest with myself and with my life. You? You're not really living. You exist. You work. You look after Alice. You never want anything for yourself?—"

"I want you," I interrupt, my voice tight. "I want you. You're the only thing I have ever wanted or taken for myself."

"And you didn't want me enough to fight for it, not when things got hard. I love you, Alek, but right now, I really don't like you. Sometimes I wish I'd never met you." Tears fill my eyes, and they fall unchecked. "But then I remember the happiness we had, even briefly, and I can't regret that. I just hope one day you meet someone you care more about than protecting yourself. I hope you find someone to love, because it isn't me."

He hangs up, and I'm left crying against a silent phone. "I already did—you," I admit.

I know he's right. He saw right through me even when I didn't want him to. I'm a coward. I'm so scared of getting hurt that I thought I could protect myself and love him, but that's not possible. You can't protect your heart and give only what you wish to someone. You have to be vulnerable, weak, and trust them not to hurt you even when you know they could. I didn't do that. I was halfway out the door the entire time, so when it shut after me, it didn't hurt.

But it does. It fucking hurts, so all that stupid bullshit didn't work because I'm still fucking hurting despite it.

Turning, I press my forehead to the glass, seeing Alice beyond, but my eyes blur with tears, and all I can think about is the past and the reason I am this way.

"Come on, Alek, they'll never know," Matty promises, the party music still pounding. He's lying under me, his hands gripping my biceps. I fell after he yanked me through the door.

"Matty, stop," I demand as his hand pulls my shirt up, sliding across my chest, but I can't bite back my groan or the way I react. I never can, and I hate that I react to him. I've tried to kiss girls, to fuck them like all my friends, but I just can't. Nothing works. I can get hard alone, but with a girl? No. One touch of Matty's hand, though, and I'm as hard as a rock. He smirks like he knows, his hand drifting down to press against my cock, and I moan, jerking in his hand. "Please," I beg. "Don't."

"Why? You like it." He leans up, licking my lips. "We both know you do. You want me, Alek, right?"

I try to back away and stop this, but then his lips are on mine, and he's kissing me. His hand stroking me through my jeans and his soft lips feel so good, I give in to this want inside me, the one that scares me. I let go, trusting him as I kiss him back, pressing him to the bed. The hard press of his muscles against mine almost makes me spill in my jeans.

Breaking the kiss with a gasp, I stare into his wide eyes as he strokes me. "You want me?"

He nods, his lips red from my kiss .

"Have you ever—" I start, unsure what to say, my cheeks flaming.

"Been with a guy? No, we can figure it out," he replies. "Don't you want to?"

"I do," I admit. "More than anything, I want to know what you feel like. I can't stop imagining you under me."

Leaning down, I trust in him as I kiss down his face to his neck. He turns to give me better access, sighing slightly, and I blame it on that. I blame being so lost in him and this new desire that I don't hear it at first.

"What the fuck?" The shout jerks me upright, my eyes widening as I glance at the door to see most of the football team watching me kiss their quarterback.

I look back at Matty, and he meets my gaze. I see fear and confusion there when his eyes were clear moments ago. His expression turns mean, which isn't something I've seen before.

Matty's eyes widen as he glances at the door and the crowd. "You see this shit? He forced himself on me. He was saying all kinds of messed up stuff." He pushes me off him, scrambling away as he glares at me. "He's so fucking gay. You were right. That's why he kept looking at me. Can you believe it?"

"What?" I sit up, confused as I stare at them. "Matty ? —"

"Don't say my name, you faggot," he spits as he straightens his designer shirt. "You disgust me. I can't believe you thought we were friends. We just had to be sure. I guess you're so desperate for anyone to like you that you thought we actually wanted you here tonight."

"You tried to force Matty?" Terrance, the linebacker, cracks his knuckles as he heads into the room, the rest of the team following, kicking the door shut behind them. "Let's beat the gay out of you, Anders."

I leap from the bed, but they surround me. There are so many of them, I don't stand a chance. I'm on the floor before I know it, curling up to protect my head, but the pain is constant as they slam their boots into me. I feel my cheek split, my lip burst open, and my head ring with the hits. Something inside feels wrong, broken, and I want to scream as the beating continues .

Is this how I'll die?

It feels like it. The pain is so intense, I can barely see, but they suddenly stop. "Shit, are those cops?" one of them calls.

Groaning, I try to sit up, but my arm slips in my blood and I hit the floor hard, the sharp pain making me cry out.

"Maybe, but I don't care, I'm going to kill the gay boy first," Terrance snaps. He will kill me simply for being this.

Banging downstairs distracts him for a moment, and I force myself upright despite the agony around my body, the cracked or broken ribs making it hard to breathe, then I turn to the second story window and throw myself out of it. If I stay, I'm dead. I hit the ground hard, almost crying from the pain, but I swallow it back as other partygoers rush across the lawn and to their cars to escape the cops.

I run because I have no other option. The cops won't care, nobody will. When I glance back, I see Matty in the window with tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he calls.

Ignoring him, I run as hard as I can, trying to outpace what happened tonight.

By the time I make it home, I'm limping and in agony. I know my face is a mess, and there's blood all over my shirt. I just hope everyone is asleep, but as I slip in the back door, I know I'm unlucky. My father is on the sofa, beer in hand, watching some game reruns.

He hears the door open and glances over, blinking as he leaps to his feet and rushes over. Concern and anger gleam in his eyes — probably because he wasn't the one who put the bruises there.

"What the hell happened to you?" my father rages, turning my face to see the bruises and blood. "Jesus, Alek, you let yourself get beat up like this? Why didn't you kick their ass?"

"There were too many of them," I snap, yanking my face from his grip, but I freeze when he slams me back against the wall, his arm across my throat.

"Did you just talk back to me, boy?"

"No, sir," I force out, biting back the tears that want to fall. I've had a shitty night. Can't he just let it go for once?

"You better not have." He steps away, grabbing his beer as he looks at the TV once more. "Wash up and avoid your mom and sister for a few days. They don't need to see you like that."

He stands at the back of the couch, dismissing me. Usually, I would hurry away, glad that's the end of it, but tonight, I push from the wall and try my luck. Something inside me needs to have his eyes on me and for him to know the truth, even though I know it's a bad idea.

I am just so tired of hiding and figuring this out alone.

Maybe he can help.

As I force the words out, it's my hope that I won't have to go through this alone. That, despite his anger, he'll support me as his son, love me, and give me guidance when I feel like I'm a boat without an anchor.

"I'm gay. They beat me because I'm gay," I snap, but he doesn't even look at me, and my heart sinks, but I don't back down now. I'm so very fucking tired and alone. "Dad, did you hear me?"

"You're wrong." He finally looks at me, and my whole world shrinks when I see his expression. "No son of mine is gay. You're just young and stupid. You'll find a nice girl and settle down."

"And if I don't?" I spit.

"Then I'll help them beat the gay right out of you, boy. No son of mine is a sissy, so don't you ever say that shit again." My head hits the wall from the force of the bottle hitting my face. I feel glass and blood sprinkling down my head from the impact as I stare in shock. "If you ever say it again, I'll kill you, understand? If I ever see you with a boy, I'll kill you myself. Now get out of my sight."

As I gape at my father, hatred builds inside me — one for myself for being born this way.

I will never be the kid he could love, nor will I be the kid others would be friends with and invite to parties.

I hate myself, and I hate them all.

Opening my eyes, I blink to clear away my tears. I hate how it's all coming back now. I tried so hard to be normal, to be the kid he could love, and to be accepted into this society that punishes you for being different. I tried and failed.

I know I can't blame my past for my actions now. Yes, I was young, and what happened was fucked up, but I'm older now. I know what Matty and the others did was wrong. I know my father was wrong and that being gay isn't a problem. It's who I am, but it doesn't stop old insecurities and fears from forcing my hand. It doesn't stop me from thinking that everyone I trust or let close will hurt or betray me simply for what I want.

I dropped out of school and got a job, and when my parents died, I grieved them. I moved on and grew up, so why can't I let go of that scared teenager?

I used to hate Matty, but as I think back on it now, I just feel sorry for him. He was obviously scared and worried, and he used me as a scapegoat, but aren't I doing the same thing now to Evan?

Look how that made me feel.

Evan is right, I'm scared, but I really wish I weren't.

I wish I were brave enough to accept who I am and love without worry.

As I watch my sister learning to protect herself, I know I have a choice to make—to stay stuck in the past, never accepting myself and being happy, or to be brave like her. I could show her it's okay to be who she is and to love whoever she wants. She looks up to me, so it's my duty to lead the way—not just for her, but for me as well—and to be the change I needed back then.

Can I break the cycle?