Chapter 16

16

Bodhi

My new roommate was a flaming bag of dicks.

And I use the term “roommate” loosely because I was beginning to feel like this was more of a hostage situation.

The person holding me hostage?

Emmett Resch, the man I was supposed to call Coach.

He made me feel crazy. Like Jekyll and Hyde. One minute, I wanted to push every last button he had and drive him crazy, and the next, I wanted to beg him to touch me.

After his extensive list of rules and my new dorm assignment, I wanted to leave more than ever. Got as far as looking up plane tickets to get the hell out of Dodge. Added them to my cart and everything.

But there I sat in a less-than-bodacious dorm room with a roomie who made my old cellmate at Two Towers seem like a party. I hadn’t even seen him for three days, yet Emmett Resch still held me captive. To be honest, I thought after I no-showed one practice, he’d be beating down the door. I anticipated it. Waited even.

He didn’t come.

When I started therapy (court-mandated, ya know), I was going to ask the therapist what was wrong with me. The list was probably epically long.

At least then I could say, Oh, I’m only sitting here subjecting myself to this homophobic, judgmental, reefer head because I have X personality disorder instead of because I’m lusting after someone who clearly doesn’t want me .

“Honey, I’m home!”

See what happens when you speak of the devil? He appears.

The door burst in, and Ronnie—the aforementioned homophobic, judgmental, reefer head—shouldered his way in, bloodshot eyeballs already on a swivel. It was his newfound hobby to make me miserable.

Little did he know I was already miserable, so his hobby was a waste of time.

“There he is,” Ronnie crooned, pushing the door closed and turning to where I sat on my bed. “The roomie I didn’t want.”

“Just curious, but did you develop your personality in a car crash?”

“Funny,” he said, shooting a finger gun at me. “You’re funny.”

I didn’t bother to point out it wasn’t a joke. Closing the top of my laptop, I got off the bed to grab my bag and push it inside. His presence was my cue to leave.

Ronnie went oddly quiet, the kind of quiet that was noticeable, and I turned around to see him standing at the mini fridge with a water in his hand. He was staring at me with a confused but also disgusted look on his face.

“What is that?” he asked, eyes dropping to my shirt.

Uneasiness unfurled in my stomach, and I had to make a conscious effort not to shrink in on myself. “What?” I feigned stupidity.

He jabbed a finger at my clothes. “That.”

“Uh, my shirt?” Innocence was hard for me to pull off. But hey, sometimes confidence was too.

“Where’s the rest of it?”

Sighing, I abandoned my bag at the end of the bed and turned to fully face him. Cocking a hand on my hip, I said, “Haven’t you ever seen a crop top before?”

He scoffed. “On girls.”

“Clearly, you’ve never watched an eighties movie.”

His eyes narrowed. “It’s purple.”

“So?” I pressed.

“You a homo?” he demanded, slapping his water on the desk nearby. “I told you how I feel about homos.”

Honestly, I couldn’t believe there were still people like this in the world. “Yes, Chad.”

“It’s Ronnie.”

“Same difference,” I muttered. Freaking dude-bros were all the same.

He seemed confused. “What?”

I sighed. “I quite remember you telling me the moment I stepped into this room that you didn’t live with homos .”

He pointed at me again. “Your belly button is pierced.”

I glanced down at the diamond piercing. “Oh dear, how’d that get there?”

“I knew it,” he said, drawing up to his full height, which was unfortunately more than mine. “The minute you walked in here with all that hair, I knew you were a twink.”

I laughed. “I’m from California.”

“So you aren’t gay?”

Being gay wasn’t new to me. It was something so basic about myself that I’d almost always known. It was never anything I struggled with because it just was. People in Cali didn’t make a big deal of it, and I looked more “surfer” than twink, but I guess on the other side of the country, my style was a little more… controversial. Even still, this was who I was. I never shied away from it.

“Oh, no, I’m definitely gay.” I confirmed.

His face turned red. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Was I supposed to?” I wondered. “Was that before or after you told me you hate gays?” I made a humming sound. “Oh, now I remember why I didn’t say anything,” I mused. “It’s because it’s none of your business.”

The vein in his forehead popped out. It looked painful. “Not my business!” he roared. “You sleep three feet from me!”

“Yes. You snore by the way.”

A strangled sound ripped from his throat.

“Don’t worry about me, Ronnie.” I continued, turning back to my bag. “But you should worry about your eyebrows.”

His hand flew up to the caterpillars masquerading as eyebrows. Anger took over his face. That was better. I’d rather see anger than disgust.

“No,” he said, shaking his head adamantly. “No way. I’m not living with you.”

“We aren’t living together.” I corrected him. As if I’d ever live with him. “More like keeping our stuff in the same place.”

He went to the door and flung it open. “You’re moving out.” He pointed into the hall.

He was lucky I was already tired. Otherwise, I’d make his life hell.

“I don’t think so,” was all I said. “But I am going to the library.”

“I was here first!”

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I went to the door and patted his chest. He yanked away as if I had some type of disease. I told myself it didn’t bother me.

“Please,” I mused. “You are so not my type.”

He stared at me like I had four heads, and I pulled the door closed behind me. The second it was between us, I leaned back against it, giving myself a moment to breathe air not poisoned with hatred. I knew this was coming. I mean, he’d made it pretty clear from the moment we met.

I’d just been hoping it would take a little longer.

I glanced down at my loose ripped jeans and shirt. “Stupid crop top,” I muttered.

I could have not worn it, but my roommate could also not be a dick.

Wait. He was adamantly against dicks. A vagina, then.

Someone walked down the hall, and I pushed off the door and headed to the exit. The second I stepped out into the fading afternoon sun, I realized I’d forgotten my charger. I really did plan on hitting the library to get a head start on some of the coursework already outlined in my class syllabi, so I definitely needed it.

But the thought of going back there so soon made me hesitate.

Fuck that . I might hate it, but that was my room too, and if I needed something, I had a right to get it. Besides, if I left without the charger now, I’d have to come back a lot sooner. Better to grab it now and stay gone longer.

Mind made up, I went back into the building while digging my keycard out of my bag. The lock clicked, and I pushed the door open. A body jolted up, then froze in surprise.

It took a moment for me to realize what I was seeing.

I blinked. Then blinked again.

Shame, anger, and betrayal slammed into me, a triple blow that left my cheeks stinging. The bag slid off my shoulder and fell to my feet.

“What the hell are you doing?” My voice sounded completely stunned.

Ronnie glanced down at his hands, which were filled with colorful fabrics and blue lace dangling from one of his fingers. “You’re sick,” he said, lifting his gaze.

“Me?” I said, horrified. “You’re the one in here going through my drawers!”

“It’s a good thing I did!” he roared. “Look!” he said, shaking his fists, making some of the silk slip onto the floor. “You’re a crossdresser!”

Nausea rolled over me upon seeing my lacy, delicate panties stuffed into his dirty, bigoted hands. Knowing that when I’d left the room, he went scouring through my things, spying on pieces of me I kept private, and soiling them with not only his gross touch but his unacceptance.

The violation of that act, the complete lack of respect, shook me. All I could do was stand there, door still propped open by my body, and stare at the private things that once gave me comfort but were now tainted.

All the drawers on the small dresser I was using were half open, clothing falling over the edges from how he rifled through it all. My favorite pair of panties—hot-pink thongs—dangled precariously off the corner. The lace was so delicate, so soft against my skin…

Ronnie stirred suddenly, the abrupt movement disturbing the air and making the thongs drop onto the floor out of sight.

Anger punched so strongly through my veins that it made a whooshing sound between my ears. I was standing there struggling to get control when he drew back his arm and launched a handful of the delicates in my direction.

“You’re a fucking freak.”

Some of the fabric hit me in the chest, some fell short on the floor between us, and a couple items landed on the bed. I stared down at the blue pair that bounced off my chest, feeling my nostrils flare.

“You went through my stuff,” I said, flat. “You have no right.”

Ronnie grabbed a yellow pair from his other hand before tossing the rest in my direction. Hooking his fingers into the thin straps on the sides, he held them up and sneered. “Do you even have a dick?” he asked. “How the fuck do you put it in these?”

Something in me snapped. Letting out a loud cry, I launched myself at him. We both went down with me on top, and I swung, smashing my knuckles into his nose. He grunted in pain, and I swung again, hitting him in the cheek.

I would have hit him a third time, but he caught my wrist and rolled, pinning me under him and retaliating. My face snapped to the side as his fist plowed into me, the still-tender skin from my fight in jail blooming with fresh pain.

He hit me again, and his knuckles knocking against my teeth made me cringe. The sharp, metallic tang of blood burst in my mouth and trickled over my lip.

I brought up my knee, nailing him in the balls, and he fell to the side, clutching his middle. Back on my feet, my attention fell to the scattered lingerie around the room. Embarrassment clouded my head, and I tried to shove it away, not wanting something else I loved to be taken from me.

Not this too. Just let me have something.

Ronnie burst up from the floor and grabbed me from behind. I slammed my foot down on top of his, and he howled. I pulled free, seeing that the door was wedged open because my bag was in the way.

I headed toward it, but he caught my arm and pulled me around, using the momentum to slam his fist into my face. I fell sideways, body hitting my bed. He leaped on me, fisting his hands in my hair and pulling. My scalp screamed, and I yelled, struggling to overtake him.

A shout and more commotion erupted. The sound of the door hitting against the wall filled the room. Ronnie was yanked back, and I pushed up in time to see a body bulldoze him back, the pair hitting the desk and making everything on it rattle.

“You hit him?” a vaguely familiar voice grunted. “You should know better.”

The newcomer pulled his fist back and slammed it into Ronnie’s middle. Groaning, Ronnie slumped onto the floor, and the newcomer turned.

Ryan Walsh.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded, breathing heavy.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, shocked once more.

Ronnie pushed up from the floor.

“Stay down,” Ryan growled, pushing him back with his foot.

“Me? I’m not the one who’s fucked up in the head!” he wailed.

“Bro, are you okay?”

I spun, seeing Jamie Owens standing just inside the room.

“You’re here too?”

“We come as a set,” Jamie said, motioning to Ryan.

Someone pounded on the door, which was now shut. “Open the door. This is the RA.”

Jamie pulled it open, holding it wide. “Hey, bro. Good to see you.”

“What the hell is going on, Owens?” the resident advisor glowered.

“I want him out!” Ronnie yelled from the floor. “I refuse to room with him! He’s a sick bastard.”

My stomach twisted as I glanced between Ryan and Jamie. My face felt hot, and the cut on my lip stung.

“Walsh.” The RA, whose name I didn’t remember even though I’d just met him four days ago, said, “I want an explanation.”

Why is he asking him?

Jamie glanced at me. “He’s our fixer. He’ll fix this.”

What?

“I heard shouting and the sounds of a fight,” Ryan explained. “I saw the door was partially open, so I came in.” He pointed to Ronnie. “This guy was hitting Lawson.”

“He attacked me first!” Ronnie defended himself, finally pushing to his feet.

“You throw down, bro?” Jamie asked me.

I eyed him warily.

“What’d you do?” Ryan deadpanned.

I bristled and swung toward him, ready to defend myself… but he wasn’t looking at me.

“Me?” Ronnie spat. “I’m not the one who’s walking around in women’s underwear.”

I stiffened, more of that embarrassment I’d tried not to feel earlier rearing its ugly head. I felt… judged. Like I’d done something wrong just by being who I was.

A body appeared in the doorway behind the RA. “What’s going on?” Wes asked, slipping around the man and coming to stand beside Jamie. “You bros okay?”

I groaned. How many more people would witness me being debased today? “You too?”

Wes shrugged. “We were going to dinner.”

Jamie turned to Wes, suddenly serious. “Bro. Remember that time I made the joke about you wearing panties and Max got suuuperrr pissed?”

Wes made a face. “Yeah.”

Jamie’s head bobbed. “I get it now.”

Confusion clouded Wes’s face, and he looked at me. I groaned again.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Like he cared.

“I want him out!” Ronnie demanded. “I won’t live here with a crossdressing himbo.”

“Bro. That’s rude,” Jamie admonished.

“If you don’t want to live here, there’s the door.” Ryan pointed.

“I was here first!” Ronnie demanded.

“He’s Elite,” Ryan, Wes, and Jamie said at the same time.

My lips parted in shock. Are they defending me?

“I need an explanation.” The RA was firm.

“We just gave you one,” Jamie said, all humor absent from his tone. He was a big guy… probably the biggest on the team. I probably only came to his shoulder.

The RA looked at me.

“I came home and found him rummaging through my stuff.”

Everyone turned to Ronnie.

“Bro. No one likes a busybody,” Jamie told him.

“Look!” Ronnie said, agitated. He bent and scooped a pair of lace thongs off the floor and held them out. “Look what I found! He’s sick! He paints his nails, wears crop tops, and these .”

Everyone in the room looked at my panties. The ones I had on under my jeans were suddenly uncomfortable. I felt Wes’s eyes first.

Fuck this. Fuck them. “Yeah,” I said boldly. “They’re mine.”

Jamie stepped forward and plucked the thongs from Ronnie’s grasp. “Out of curiosity, bro,” he said, glancing between me and the lace, “do these hurt?”

My brain went blank. Literal nothing.

Jamie looked at Ryan. “I mean, don’t you wonder? It looks like butt floss.”

“Bro,” Ryan said.

Jamie asked Wes, “Was that inappropriate too?”

Wes nodded.

“Don’t tell Max,” he whispered, then turned to me, pushing the panties into my hand. “My bad, bro. I was just curious.”

Ronnie made a rude sound. “He’s walking around like a girl, and that’s all you have to say?”

Wes shrugged. “We wear Speedos half the day. It’s basically the same thing.”

I’m sorry, what?

“Good point, bro.” Jamie agreed.

I glanced at Ryan and tried to wrap my head around the fact that we were all standing here discussing my preference and no one seemed to care.

Except Ronnie, but he was a douche.

Are these guys not douches too?

“Seems like the only one with the problem around here is you,” Ryan told Ronnie.

I swiped the back of my fist over my mouth, feeling the blood smear. It was too much. I didn’t know what to think or feel.

The RA sighed. “My office. Now.”

Anger rolled off Ronnie in waves as he stormed forward. Ryan caught his shoulder, pulling him back, and Jamie slid in front of me. Ryan let go, and Ronnie brushed by, glaring at me over his shoulder once he was past.

Did they just protect me?

I reached up to my head, feeling around.

“Bodhi?” Wes asked, concerned.

“Maybe I hit my head,” I said even though I felt no evidence of it.

“Your face is bleeding,” Ryan needlessly pointed out.

“So is his,” I snapped. I didn’t need them to protect me!

He half smiled. “He deserved it.”

“Now, gentlemen,” the RA intoned from the hall.

“Dude acts like he’s fifty, and he’s like, what, two years older than us?” Jamie muttered. “Stodgy.”

We all traipsed to the end of the hall to a closet-sized office that Ronnie was already inside.

“Sit,” the RA ordered me, pointing to a row of chairs outside the door. “The rest of you can go.”

Ryan shook his head. “You know Elite doesn’t work that way.”

The RA sighed and went into his office with Ronnie. Wes sat down and gestured to the chair beside him. Resigned, I sat. Jamie took the chair to my left, and I was suddenly a Wes-and-Jamie sandwich. And I had thongs still fisted in my hand.

Grimacing, I shoved them deep into the pocket of my jeans.

“He really was going through your shit?” Ryan asked.

I nodded. “He doesn’t like homos,” I replied. Then, “His words, not mine.”

Wes shifted uncomfortably.

Ryan went over and ruffled his hair. “He’ll be gone by tomorrow.” Then he turned to me. “This guy been giving you a hard time since you moved in?”

I shrugged. What did they care?

“Guess that explains your lack of attendance at practice.” Ryan went on.

“I was worried it was because we tossed you in the pool,” Jamie put in.

It wasn’t either of those, but I said nothing.

“Just so you know, we don’t care,” Wes said, turning to face me.

I met his eyes, then looked away. “Whatever.”

“I’m serious,” he said, laying a hand on my shoulder. When I looked at where he touched me, he pulled away. “Elite is cool with all orientations. I came out last year. Lars and Prism are also out.”

“Good for you,” I said.

“We support each other in Elite,” Ryan explained. “We’re loyal. We just ask for the same.”

“I don’t plan on staying,” I told them.

Ryan was silent a beat. “Shame. I think Rush will be disappointed.”

I laughed. “Rush? Yeah right. He doesn’t want me here.”

“Then you haven’t been paying attention,” Jamie countered.

Before I could say anything else, a long, drawn-out whistle filled the air.

Ryan, Jamie, and Wes all groaned.

My heart fluttered.

Coach appeared at the end of the hall, whistle still between his lips. Our eyes collided, and even with the distance between us, something in my chest settled.

Finally.

Everything around us seemed to pause, and for a moment, it was just him and me and the undeniable pull between us.

The whistle bounced off his chest when he let it go, and his footsteps echoed down the hall as he prowled forward. “What the hell is going on here?”

“What are you doing here, Coach?” Wes asked.

“You think you mouth breathers can get into a fight and someone not call me?” He crossed his arms over his chest, avoiding my open stare. “Well, which one of you is it?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Jamie mused.

“I am in no mood for your shit, Owens.”

Whatever Jamie heard in Coach’s voice had him sitting up a little straighter and holding up his hands. “It wasn’t me.”

Coach looked at Ryan. Ryan slid a glance at me.

A muscle jumped beneath the stubble on Coach’s jaw, and he turned. It was quick, a mere passing of his attention, but then he did a double take.

A deep sound ripped from his throat, and he was on me, hand grasping my chin and holding my face for his inspection. “You’re bleeding,” he intoned, turning my face to another angle. “Why are you bleeding?”

“Usually what happens when you take a fist to the face,” I quipped.

His hand was warm. He smelled familiar, the exact scent on his hoodie that faded after I slept in it one too many times. His fingers bit into my chin. “Someone hit you.” He was quiet. Deadly. “Who?”

A shiver worked its way up my spine, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

I crave him. It scared me how much.

“Just the roommate you couldn’t wait to dump me on,” I said, polishing my armor.

His eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

Commotion in the doorway to my left made him look away as Ronnie stepped into the hall. “Coach Resch.”

The fingers holding my face let go.

“I need to talk to you about your swimmers,” he complained. “Do you have any idea what kind of…” I felt his disgust hurl in my direction. “ Representation you have for Elite.”

Bam!

My head whipped up as Ronnie flew back, landing so hard on his ass that he skidded backward across the floor.

Stunned silence quieted everything. No one, not even the air, moved.

And then as though a balloon had burst, everything started again. Ronnie pushed up, bracing his weight on both palms.

Coach strolled forward, his jacket making a light whisking sound with his sure movement. Grabbing the front of Ronnie’s shirt, he hauled him to his feet. “You put your hands on my swimmer?” he asked, voice even and low.

“He hit me first!” Ronnie defended.

“I don’t care if he whips out his dick and pisses on you, son. You don’t ever put your hands on one of mine ever again.”

Ronnie gaped.

Hell, we all did.

Coach gave him a little shake. “You get me?”

Ronnie nodded.

Coach let him go.

Ronnie smoothed his shirt, then touched his cheek, which was already bruising. “I’ll tell the dean.”

“Go ahead.” Coach invited. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Us too,” Ryan said, his voice almost as quiet as Coach’s but nowhere near as menacing. “We’ll tell the dean about your bullying, bigotry, and spy games.”

“Spy games,” Jamie echoed.

“Whatever,” Ronnie spat.

Ronnie’s eyes slithered to me and narrowed.

Coach slid between us, blocking his view. “You got something else to say?”

“Yeah. Get your shit and get out of my room,” he said as if there wasn’t a barrier between us.

“ Your room?” Coach drawled.

“I was there first. He threw the first punch. I want him gone.”

I don’t know why his words hurt me. I didn’t want to live there. In fact, I hated it. Guess I hated being discarded more.

Why am I so disposable?

“I’m serious,” Ronnie said. “I want you out.”

“Bodhi,” the RA called from his office. “I need to speak with you.”

Ronnie made a satisfied sound. “I’ll pack up your stuff.”

I pushed around Coach. “Do not touch my stuff.”

Coach’s arm wound around my waist, pulling me back.

Ronnie chortled and strolled down the hall like he’d won. I started after him, but Coach wouldn’t let me go.

“We’ll go make sure he doesn’t mess with your stuff,” Ryan offered, pushing off the wall.

Jamie stood. “Good call.”

“Stay out of trouble,” Coach told them.

“You’re the one punching people, Coach,” Jamie mused. Coach cut him a look, and he blanched. “We’re going to dinner after.” He glanced at me. “Wanna join?”

I fought the urge to look over my shoulder to see if he was talking to me.

“He’s gonna be a while,” Coach answered for me.

“Well, if you change your mind, let us know,” Wes offered.

Ryan appeared. “Let me see your phone.”

I started to protest, but Coach cleared his throat. When I glanced over, he gave me a look . You know, the kind that said I’d better not be a shit.

I handed my phone to Ryan, and he put in his number. “Text me anytime,” he said, handing it back. “If you need somewhere to crash tonight, me and Jamie are across the hall.”

“Uh, thanks.”

The three bros went off to supervise Ronnie, and I went toward the RA’s office.

A hand on my arm stopped me. I stared straight ahead, letting my hair shield my face. He made a soft sound, and my toes wiggled in my shoes, but I refused to meet his stare.

He stepped into my line of sight. I lowered my face, but he caught my chin, tipping it back up. The pad of his thumb caressed the sore corner of my lips.

“Ah, Goldilocks,” he whispered. “What am I gonna do with you?”

My heart turned inside out, and the urge to bury my face in his chest was so strong I had to shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching out.

“Nothing,” I replied, the word making my throat raw. “Which is exactly what you wanted.”

His eyes flared, the green and gold melting together.

I left him standing there and went into the office.