“What?”
“Reading. It seems so normal.”
Jacob laughed. “Is that your way of telling me I’m not normal?”
“There isn’t anything about any of this that’s normal.” Ben’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. Then he watched nothing while opening and closing his hands, sometimes touching the scar between his thumb and finger. The light inside the hotel room did nothing for the shadows in his gaze. Worry etched lines in his handsome face.
What had Marcel done?
Did Jacob really want to know?
No. Of course not.
Jacob clung to the lie with a death grip. But with every passing second, his hold crumbled.
If he couldn’t choke it, maybe he could drown it.
Jacob got two plastic cups from the stack next to the TV. He set one down in front of the chair, pushed up next to the table. “Sit before you tip over.”
“I’m fine.”
Jacob took Ben by the arm. He stared at where Jacob touched him. Did he feel the pull, the strange pleasing tingle? Did it crawl through his chest like it did to Jacob?
His heart skipped. Jacob stomped out the feeling and reminded himself this was his replacement. A man who was a part of Marcel’s past. An intrinsic piece of his heart. Jacob should have been kicking Ben out, but instead, Jacob said, “Please, sit.”
Ben lowered himself into the chair.
Jacob opened the bottle and filled the cup with a couple of shots. “I’ve got some orange juice.” Before Jacob could set down the bottle, Ben drained the cup. He grimaced and wheezed a cough.
“That’s why you add juice.” Jacob retrieved a bottle from the fridge. He brought it over. Ben was already pouring himself another drink.
“Go easy on that.” Jacob stopped him. Ben lifted the cup; Jacob grabbed his wrist. “I’m serious. You’re going to make yourself sick.”
Ben put the cup back down. Jacob took it away and emptied half into his cup. He added orange juice into Ben’s cup before he gave it back.
Jacob finished making his own drink and sat on the edge of the bed a couple feet away. He took a sip, and even the burn of alcohol couldn’t dull the ache in his chest. “What happened with Marcel?”
After a long moment, Ben said, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what happened?”
Ben laughed, then a tear ran down his cheek. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t remember?”
“I remember.” Ben took a drink. “I don’t want to remember, but I do.”
“Then how can you not know what happened?”
Ben shook his head, then emptied his cup. “He picked me up at the police station. We went to his house. He told me to go into the bedroom.”
No. Marcel had told Ben to go into the Bedroom. There was a difference. Jacob drank from his cup. Now he couldn’t even taste the juice.
“He told me to take off my clothes.” Ben wrinkled his brow. “I thought he was going to make me have sex with him.”
The relief Jacob felt made him drop his gaze. But there were still other things Marcel might have asked of him. Things Jacob lived for. “What did he make you do?”
“Nothing.” Ben tipped his empty cup. “He just touched me. But barely. Like he was looking for something. What could he have been looking for?”
Jacob had no idea. But he had hazy memories of Marcel’s touch during those terrible days when he fought the madness of detox. The pain had ripped through Jacob, shredding his will. Then the lightest caress calmed him, and everything would be okay for a while.
“I…I got hard. And I wanted him to touch me. Why would I want that?”
Jacob knew that feeling too. He’d never fought it. He’d never found it frightening. It was clear Ben had done both.
Ben shifted in his seat. There was a moment of discomfort on his face, but it was erased by a flush. He clenched his fists.
“It’s normal.” Jacob poured himself another drink. This time more vodka than juice.
“People don’t touch you like that and you just get hard. And you sure as hell don’t think about it and—” Ben pushed the plastic cup away. “What is he?” Ben buried his face against his clenched fists. Sweat dotted his skin, and he shook. “What is Marcel?”
“He’s a man.”
“No.” Ben hit the table with a fist. “No, he is not, he is not just a man. I don’t even know if he’s human.”
Jacob had wondered the same thing many times. But Marcel was just a man, and human. That Jacob was sure of. Marcel just wasn’t human like everyone else.
Ben curled over the table. “What is wrong with me?” The cords on his neck stood out as he fought whatever tried to consume him. Jacob had a pretty good idea of what it was.
He put a hand on Ben’s arm, startling him. The tingling warmth returned.
Jacob pretended not to feel it. “I’m sorry.”
Ben blinked like he’d just noticed Jacob was there.
“I’m sorry you’re afraid.” No one deserved to live like that. Jacob might have put himself in the path of tragedy, but Ben hadn’t. He was just a guy. An ordinary man, who had no experience with the horrible roads life could take a person down.
“I don’t know what to do.” Ben bit his bottom lip. Tears streamed down his face. “I don’t know…I don’t know anything anymore.” He slid out of the chair and landed on his knees in front of Jacob. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“You’re not. I promise you’re not.” Jacob hugged Ben. The tension in Ben’s muscles eased, and he wrapped his arms around Jacob. The sobs wracking Ben’s frame made his body jerk, and his breath wheezed.
But Jacob held Ben. He held him because of all the times he’d felt the same way when in Frankie’s hands, and no one had held him.
4
Sam shut his locker door. He’d survived another day. So far. It was only 3:15, so there was plenty of time to wind up beaten, broken, or drowned in the toilet.
If given a choice, he would rather face a baseball bat than the boy’s bathroom.
“Sam.”
He turned.
Roshan walked over. He had a bag in his hand. “I meant to get these back to you a few days ago.” He held out the bag.
Sam took it. “That’s okay. I had an extra pair.”
Roshan nodded and smiled. He held Sam’s gaze for a few seconds before dropping it to the floor. Pink colored the rich gold of his cheeks.
“Well, thanks again.” Roshan started to turn.
“Wait.”
He did, flicking a quick look at some kids who walked past.
“How come you haven’t been back to PE class?” Sam had looked for him. When he hadn’t found Roshan, he’d wondered if he’d changed schools again. It was good to know he hadn’t.
Roshan shrugged. The pink returned to his cheeks. “My mom found out.”
Some girls walked by. They leaned close to each other while watching Roshan and exchanged whispers. Roshan dropped his head.
“She got my doctor to write an excuse. So I don’t have to go to PE anymore.”
“Where do you go?”
“I go to the detention hall. There’s no one there that early, so I study.”
More kids walked by. They looked at Roshan, then Sam. The tall boy with blond hair laughed.
Roshan gave a half-hearted wave. “Thanks again for the clothes.”
“Any time. And if you ever want to get together and study, let me know.” At this point, Sam would take all the help he could get.
“That’s…” Roshan ducked his head until the next pack of seniors had gone by. “That’s probably not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“If you’re seen with me, they’ll—”
“Hey, queer boy!” An empty soda can shot from a group of boys and smacked the locker beside Roshan’s head. He rushed away.
“Wait!” Sam caught up to Roshan.
“You need to go.” Roshan tried to leave, and Sam c
aught him by the sleeve of his silky blue tunic.
“Why?”
“Because if they see you with me, they’ll think you’re gay too.” Roshan pulled away and started up the hall.
He was gay?
That had to be why the kids had picked on him. It had to be why he’d changed so many schools.
The boys hanging out by the bathroom tracked Roshan. One smacked the other on the shoulder, and he broke off from the group and followed Roshan around the corner.
This could not be good. Sam started up the hall. When he caught up, the boy Sam didn’t know had Roshan pinned in a niche between the sets of lockers.
Sam dropped his bookbag on the floor. “Hey, leave him alone.”
The boy turned. “What? You his boyfriend?” And what Sam saw wasn’t anger, it wasn’t hate, it wasn’t even aggression, but fear. Fear of people being different. Fear because of ignorance.
“What if I am?” Sam curled his hands into fists. “Because then your friends are gonna have a real laugh when I knock your teeth out like I did Stan. Or maybe I should break your knee like Todd. Or just your entire face?”
The guy grinned.
Sam took another step.
The boy’s grin fell. He looked at Roshan, then Sam. “Faggots.” He shoved Roshan, then backed away. Sam waited for him to disappear around the corner before he turned back to Roshan.
“You okay?”
Roshan tried to smooth the wrinkles out of his shirt. He nodded.
“Do you take the bus or walk?” Sam said.
“My mom usually picks me up. But she had to work late today, so I have to walk.”
“Where do you live?”
“Hanson street—”
“Near Kepler.” Three streets before his, in an adjacent subdivision. “Yeah, I pass it when I take the long way around.” He went and grabbed his backpack. “C’mon, I’ll walk you home.”
Roshan stood there, hands tangled in his shirttails. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
Sam walked, and Roshan followed. They exited the building and headed down the sidewalk. The last of the school buses pulled away from the curb and joined the line waiting to make a left turn out onto the road.
It wasn’t until they’d left the school ground that Roshan spoke again. “Aren’t you worried?”
“About what?”
“That they’ll think you’re like me.”
Sam stopped, and so did Roshan. “Maybe I am.”
Roshan widened his eyes. “You like boys?”
“Yeah.” Sam had expected the weight in his chest to double. Instead, it disappeared.
Roshan smiled a little, his dark eyes glittering with unshed tears.
“Is that why you’ve changed schools so much?”
“I don’t hide it.” Roshan started walking, and so did Sam. “I used to, but I can’t anymore. I shouldn’t have to.”
No, he shouldn’t. No one should.
“My mom wants me to pretend I’m not. She gets upset that I don’t. She’s worried I’ll get hurt.”
“You need to stick up for yourself.”
Roshan nodded. “That’s what my uncle says.”
They stopped at the corner of the street and waited for the light to turn red.
“How did everyone find out? You know, that you like boys?”
Roshan tugged on the strap of his satchel. “I told a guy in my math class that I liked him.”
“And he told everyone?”
The light changed, and they walked again.
“No. He liked me too. We met up at the comic book store after school one day. I held his hand, and someone saw. Now Wesley won’t even look at me. He told everyone I just grabbed his hand, and he wasn’t like me.”
“So he just hung you out to dry?”
“Can you blame him? If he hadn’t helped them beat me up in the shower, they would have beat him up too.”
Sam stopped. “He helped beat you up?”
Roshan took a breath and nodded.
And Sam thought what Joe had done was bad. It was, but not as bad as the guy you’d held hands with helping a bunch of jerks beat the crap out of you. “I wrote a poem,” Sam said. “Gave it to my best friend because I had a crush on him. He won’t talk to me anymore.” They walked again.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why? It’s not your fault he’s a douche.”
Roshan laughed. It made his eyes dance and his features soft. Sam nudged him with his elbow, and Roshan nudged him back. They grinned at each other.
They turned on Kepler. Hanson street was just a few houses away.
“How come you don’t fight back when they pick on you?”
Roshan went back to twisting the tails of his shirt. The pale color of the fabric made his brown skin darker. “Will you promise not to hate me if I tell you?”
“Why would I hate you?”
“Because it makes me different.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“I’m a Buddhist. We believe violence is never right.”
“Even when you’re protecting yourself?”
“You live by example. You treat other people how you want to be treated.”
“Yeah, but they aren’t treating you nicely. They’re making your life hell.”
Roshan kicked a rock on the sidewalk. It skittered away and bounced off a mailbox post. “You don’t get picked on?”
What was Sam going to say? No? “Yeah. Was worst before I knocked out Stan’s front teeth.”
“I saw the video. You broke that one guy’s knee.”
“Todd Bowen. Yeah. Not on purpose. I just got so pissed and—”
“Is that why you punched the teacher?”
“No, that was an accident. He grabbed me, and I didn’t see who it was.”
“I heard ten other guys jumped on you.”
“Ten?” Sam snorted. “I thought you said you saw it on a video.”
“The picture wasn’t that great, it shook a lot, and there were people in the way. Sometimes there was a gap, and you could see. Everything moved fast. It wasn’t ten?” Roshan cocked his mouth to the side.
“Don’t sound so disappointed. If there’d been ten, I probably wouldn’t have survived. There were three.”
“Three on one?”
Sam tried not to smile, but looking at Roshan made it impossible. “Yeah.”
“Wow.”
“You sure Buddhism won’t let you punch a guy just once?”
“I wouldn’t even know how. Where did you learn how to fight?”
“Nowhere. I can’t fight—or fight worth a crap. I took wrestling. Never thought it would come in handy.”
Roshan stopped at the next house. “This is my place.”
The two-story house had a double garage and big oak trees in the yard. “Do you want me to come by in the morning so we can walk to school?”
“My mom usually drives me.”
Sam put his hands in his pockets. “Okay. But if you need company going home again—”
“But if you don’t mind, I’d rather walk with you.”
Sam’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?”
Roshan nodded.
“Good. I mean, I’d like that.”
“I guess I’ll see you in the morning, then?” Roshan took a few steps toward his house.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be here by seven-thirty.”
Ben opened his eyes. A few inches away, Jacob slept, and every exhale brushed Ben’s cheek. The warmth from his skin pushed through Ben’s clothes. And Jacob’s scent mixed with vodka, creating a rich, sensual flavor.
Ben counted Jacob’s breath. Traced the lines of his face with his eyes and the column of his neck. His T-shirt hid the rest, but Ben had already seen Jacob without a shirt, so he knew what was there.
No wonder Marcel wanted to be with Jacob. He wasn’t just handsome, but exotic, like some endangered animal. Now that he slept, he was even more fantastical.
There had
been a few guys in Ben’s life he’d looked at twice. But he’d never considered himself attracted to them. He hadn’t even been sure why he’d looked. So the times it happened, he’d never dwelled on the feeling. Oh, he’d thought about what being with another man would be like, but it hadn’t needled his curiosity. Kicked up a desire.
Created a hunger.
Not like Jacob did now.
Was it because of what Marcel had done?
Which was what? Touch Ben but not touch him. Stare at him. Look him over. Grade him like a show animal?
Or was it because last night and well into the morning Jacob had listened to Ben. Listened to his losses, listened to his wants, listened to his failures. And not once did Jacob judge him. Not like Ben had Jacob.
Ben had meant it when he apologized for calling Jacob a whore. Now Ben knew his apology was meaningless.
Because the hurt he’d caused could not be undone.
He wished it could.
Ben ghosted his fingertips over Jacob’s arm, the hairs barely a whisper against his skin. Jacob wrinkled his brow for a moment. Ben moved his hand up to Jacob’s shoulder and made the small jump to his cheek. There Ben hesitated. But only for a moment, then he let himself make contact.
Jacob sighed.
Ben grazed Jacob’s bottom lip with his thumb. Jacob smiled a little and made a sleepy sound.
What would it be like to kiss him? Ben swallowed against the rising need. The longer he stared at Jacob, the more Ben’s will crumbled. It was just a kiss. A press of lips. Then maybe Ben would know if this attraction was real, or born of desperation.
Ben leaned closer.
Jacob stretched, almost clocking Ben in the face with his hand. Ben moved back, and Jacob opened his eyes. “What time is it?”
With the curtains drawn, the only light in the room came from the pitiful lamp nailed to the wall across the room.
Jacob stared at Ben for a moment, then sat up, giving Ben his back. “The clock is on your side.”
The time. Ben glanced back. “A little after four.”
“Damn it.”
Ben sat up. “What’s wrong?”
“I meant to set the alarm. I’m supposed to be at Marcel’s at six.”
“It’s only a thirty-minute walk.”
Jacob went to the fridge and got out a bottle of water. “Yeah, but I have to eat before I go. If I don’t, he’ll know.” He took a sip of water. “And I need to get a shower and—” Jacob waved the water bottle. “Never mind, you don’t want the details.”
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