“How’d you hurt it?”
“I was doing dumb daredevil shit at the skate park with a friend.” He’d actually been my first fuck buddy. “Trying to impress a guy. I jumped onto a rail from the top of a half-pipe. It was stupid because I wasn’t very good at skateboarding. I landed on the rail wrong, fell off my board, and ruined my ankle. It happened toward the end of cross-country season, so I didn’t get to compete in the state tournament. I was ranked first in the state of Texas at that time in my event.”
It’d been a horrible way to end my senior year and was one of the reasons I’d ended up at Farm College. I’d wanted to go somewhere that was completely removed from the goals I’d crushed along with my ankle.
Connor frowned, pain at my expense evident on his face. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“I’m not going to make a mistake like that again.”
“A mistake like skateboarding in a hazardous way?”
I smiled at his precision. It did not surprise me at all that Connor would scrunch his nose up at irresponsible skateboarding.
“A mistake that derails my goals. I’ve worked too hard, and they’re too important to me. I want to be excited and focused about law school. And about what comes after.”
He sat back in the booth. “I understand.”
I didn’t want to be heartbroken when I should be driven and eager about my future. If we didn’t end this soon, it’d crush me come May. Hell, it’d probably crush me now.
“Finish your pancakes, then I’ll take you home,” he said into the uncomfortable silence.
I dug into my last bites, trying to work out all the anger I had stored up. At him for making me feel this way. At our situation. At myself.
“I’ll buy our next meal,” I said, once my plate was clear. “Or we’ll split.”
He didn’t respond, instead leading me out into the rain and his truck. He got the passenger-side door open for me and held it. Like a date.
I suddenly felt vulnerable and unsteady.
When he dropped me off at my house, he said, “Drive safe tomorrow. And call me to chat if you get sleepy.”
My heart pounded, and I stared at him. “Do you want to come in for a while?”
I wanted him to fuck me again. Or spank me. Or do something, anything, to calm the trip-hammer in my heart.
He caressed my bottom lip with his thumb, and I leaned closer to him.
“Not this time, Travis. Have a good break, though. I’ll see you next week.”
I made it into my house, then my bedroom in a daze. Joel and Paulie had already left for the week. They were dog-sitting for Paulie’s aunt in Kansas, so I was alone. Which was a relief, because the sting of Connor’s rejection made heat build behind my eyes.
I had a totally self-absorbed meltdown over it for a good ten minutes. I had no right to be hurt, but my emotions were in such a jumble over him.
Eventually, my phone buzzed in the pocket of my sweats. I pulled it out. It was my dad.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hi, son. How did midterms go?”
“Good, I hope. I don’t think I failed, at least.”
He chuckled. “That’s good considering law school is contingent on you graduating.”
“Too true. So what’s up? I’m all set to drive down tomorrow.”
“Well, that’s what I’m calling about. I have some bad news.”
My stomach plummeted. “What is it?”
“I’m picking up extra overnight shifts during the week because we have one ER nurse out on maternity leave and one out on bereavement leave. And your mom is working on a big case. She’s putting in over eighty hours a week.”
“So neither of you will be home much.”
“Right.”
“What about Jesse? It’s his spring break too, so I’d get to see him.”
“That’s why I called. He’s begging us to allow him to go camping in the Hill Country with a buddy’s family. I told him I needed to talk to you first.”
It shouldn’t have hurt, but I felt hollowed out. “So, if I come down, you won’t let Jesse go on the camping trip?”
“That’s the sum of it, yes. If you make the trip, I think he needs to stay home and spend time with you.”
“And I’ll hardly get to see you and Mom?”
“Yes. I’m so sorry, Travis. I hate to spring this on you at the last minute.”
My phone buzzed with an incoming text, and I pulled it away from my ear to see it was from Jesse. I put Dad on speakerphone and opened the message.
Pls pls pls pls pls stay in Elkville.
I snorted. Little punk. Another text came through.
I’ll make it up to u when you visit this summer. U can have all the baby bro time u want.
“I think I’ll stay in Elkville, Dad.”
“You sure? I feel horrible about this.”
“It’s fine. Mom will only be home late at night, and you’ll be sleeping through most of the day. If I came home, Jesse and I would sleep and play Xbox the whole time. He might as well go camping.”
I texted Jesse the emoji of the middle finger. Then, Have fun camping. Love you.
He replied with a bunch of excited gifs.
After Dad and I got off the phone, I fell back on my bed and stared at my popcorn ceiling. It was stupid to be disappointed. But I was.
I looked up to my parents. Dad’s huge heart and no-nonsense attitude made him a successful nurse in a fast and stressful environment, and Mom was a warrior when it came to her clients. She’d earned her reputation as a force-of-nature divorce attorney, and often put privileged men in their place to do it.
Mom enjoyed being the best at what she did, and Dad thrived on helping others. I wanted that. I wanted to be brave like them, to carve out a life for myself that made a difference.
But this week, I’d just wanted to spend time with them. I’d wanted a week away from Elkville, from the stress of my senior year. From my feelings for Connor.
By the time the sun had gone down, I was in a horrific mood. I’d tried to play my ukulele, but it was out of tune. Then I ate canned tomato soup, and watched a Christmas movie on Netflix, even though it was March.
Once I was positively sick of my own company, I ran through the Rolodex of friends in my head, trying to come up with anyone who wasn’t leaving for the break.
My friend, former hookup, and fellow member of QSOC, Roy, normally stuck around for breaks because they didn’t get along with their family, but then I remembered that they’d gotten their wisdom teeth removed this morning. I sent them a feel better, call if you need me, hope you got the good drugs text.
Angie, Paulie’s best friend, had to work, so maybe she was still in town. I texted her to let her know I’d be around all week. Then I sent a similar text to Leighton.
Not five minutes later, my phone rang, and it was Connor.
“What happened?” he said. There was a lot of noise on his end of the line.
“Where are you? It’s loud.”
“Hold on.” The din abated. “I’m in our alley at the Yard.” Ah, fuck. He was probably there with Leighton, Alex, and Desi. And he’d called it our alley, which was weirdly romantic. “Why aren’t you going to Texas?”
“Some things came up with my family. Work stuff for my parents and a camping trip for my brother, so it doesn’t make sense to drive down there and sit on my thumb.”
The sound of the wind filled the silence over the line. Finally he said, “Are you okay?”
“Kind of. Mostly. Yes.” I shook my head. What the fuck was that? I needed to shut my trap.
He hummed, a deep noise that hit me in the pit of my stomach. “What do you need?”
I knew he was asking if I wanted him to come over. And I did. I wanted him to sex me up until I couldn’t think. I wanted that for a week straight.
Instead, I said, “Nothing. It’s fine.”
“I’ll go to Glitter Night with you if you come to my family’s brush burning with me.”<
br />
“I thought it was a cookout.”
“Same thing.”
I wasn’t brave enough to completely give in to my feelings for Connor, or brave enough to end it. An avalanche of unhappiness drenched me, and I let loose the words I’d been holding back for far too long. I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Connor, what are we doing?”
“We’re friends,” he said simply, like it solved all our problems.
“I’ve never had this much sex with one of my friends.”
“We’ll stop having sex.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snapped.
He had the audacity to laugh, and I scowled at my phone.
“We could do it, you know?” he said. “Hang out this week without fooling around or kissing or anything. Try the friends-with-benefits thing without any of the benefits.”
“What if the benefits are the best part of me?” I asked. Then banged my phone against my forehead. Where had that thought come from? I’d never worried about that before. What was it about him that tore me up so much?
“They’re not, sweetheart. I promise, they’re not.”
The only time he’d called me “sweetheart” was when we were fucking, and hearing it now, with his voice so deep and soft, right up in my ear, made longing settle like a brick in my stomach. He was such a cinnamon roll, sweet and gooey and perfect, and I was going to devour all his goodness until he was jaded and hurt. I just knew it.
At my silence, he said, “We graduate in less than three months. Then we’re done. All that’ll be left is whatever friendship we manage to form now. So let’s build that foundation. I want to be friends with you.”
“Okay,” I whispered. “No fooling around during spring break.”
“And we’ll hang out, like at the ghost-hunters library program and Glitter Night?”
Those were two things I never thought I’d hear in a sentence together.
“Sure. And at the bush-burning party at your ranch.”
“It’s brush burning, not bush. And it’s a farm.”
“So precise,” I teased.
“Always.”
My breath caught at the joy in his voice. “What’s first on our agenda?”
“The drive-in movie tomorrow night. They show a classic, then a contemporary counterpart.”
“And you expect me to not make out with you at the drive-in? That’s what drive-ins are for.” According to movies I’d seen. I’d never been to one.
“We’ll keep our mouths to ourselves.”
I wasn’t so sure that was possible.
Chapter Fourteen
CONNOR
A sex-free spring break was both a horrible idea and a horribly good idea.
Watching a double feature with Travis in my pickup without touching him had been torture. During the second film, Travis had fallen asleep, his head barely touching my shoulder, and I’d watched him rather than the movie. We’d never slept together, like real sleep. So I’d had no idea that in sleep he moved his lips, like he was arguing with someone in his dreams. When he’d woken up, he’d immediately burrowed closer, seeking warmth and reassurance before consciousness had fully grasped him. Then he’d moved away as if he’d been burned.
At the ghost-hunters program, it’d been easier to keep my longing in check. I’d enjoyed watching him interact with the library staff, who clearly loved him, and I’d learned all about haunted oil-pump jacks in the process.
The night of the wine-and-painting event at the Spectrum Center had gone equally well. Desi had worked as a sort of buffer between us, and we’d managed to keep our hands to ourselves, despite copious amounts of wine. At the end of the night, I’d painted the name Brittany at the bottom of my masterpiece—a super-queer, super-colorful unicorn—and gave it to Travis for his gallery. His smile had almost blasted all my resolve apart.
I didn’t want to fail at this. I wanted us to be friends, to prove to him that we had a connection outside sex. I couldn’t imagine him disappearing from my life in May, couldn’t imagine moving on at all, much less without him as a friend.
But then Glitter Night happened.
As soon as Travis and I made it through the front entrance of the Lumberyard, we were assaulted with pounding noise, the scent of sweat, and strobe lights that made my head hurt. I sucked in a startled breath, immediately on edge. It was so crowded.
Travis led me to the one unoccupied barstool at the far corner of the bar, and pushed me onto it. Then he squeezed into the vee of my legs, his back to my front. It was an intimate position, but it hit me that closeness wasn’t his intent. He was putting himself between me and the crowd. He was protecting me.
That was its own sort of intimacy. I pressed my forehead into the back of his shoulder and mumbled my thanks. He reached back and patted the top of my head.
After drinking half of a bad rum and coke and soaking up the heat from Travis’s body, I didn’t feel so uncomfortable. The amateur dance contest was a charity for Harbor House, a youth shelter in Oklahoma City, and there were two drag queens emceeing, both of whom wielded glow-in-the-dark glitter sticks like wands, depositing the quick-dry paint on anyone who got close enough.
The first round of the dance competition passed by in a blur of glitter-painted bodies and big buckets of tips for Harbor House. As far as I could tell, there was no real winner, it was simply a chance for college students to get up on a makeshift stage and shake it.
During a break between rounds, there was a lip-sync performance, and one of the drag queens—a busty, Black queen with beautiful Technicolor makeup named Dame Judy Drenched—shimmied down the center of the dance floor to flirt with the crowd at the back. She eventually made it to the end of the bar and stopped right in front of Travis.
With a grin, she held up her paint stick, said, “Boop,” and plopped a smear of paint over the bridge of his nose. It was neon green and shimmery. Travis moved out of the space between my legs so Dame Judy Drenched could see me, and her smile turned downright evil.
I tapped my cheek, hoping she’d put the paint there, but instead she kissed my cheek, then swiped the paint stick over my forehead, murmuring, “Simba,” which made Travis laugh so hard he doubled over. I handed her a handful of one-dollar bills, which would go to the charity, and she shoved them into her cleavage with a wink.
She danced off, blessing others with her paint, and Travis moved back between my legs, this time facing me.
I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to hold his face in my palms and light him up, make the tension between us glow neon.
He smeared the paint on my forehead down to my temple. The paint wasn’t drippy, and I could feel it drying quickly on my skin. He moved his thumb to my throat and drew a line over my Adam’s apple. My heart pounded in my ears, and my skin sizzled.
I returned the favor, spreading the small dab of paint on his nose over one of his sharp cheekbones. The lime green was vivid against his dark brown skin. I’d never seen anything as beautiful as him in that moment.
Travis didn’t blink, his gorgeous eyes wide, his warm breath gracing my face, my lips.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he said, his voice so soft I could hardly hear it.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to kiss me.”
“I do want to kiss you.”
“We made a pact.”
I touched his chin and bit back a smile. We had not made a pact. We’d created a challenge for ourselves, one I enjoyed and despised in equal measure.
“I can wait two days,” I lied. I would wait, but it would be one of the hardest things I’d ever done.
“And then you’ll kiss me?”
The air felt thick around us, and my breath was coming too fast.
“If that’s what you want.”
“And what do you want, Connor Blume? If you could have anything?”
My bucket list flashed in my head—sashimi, a trip on an airplane, holding Cressida—but those things seemed trivial now.
“Time.” I wanted time to slow down so I could live in this moment longer. So I could hold off on stepping into a permanent role in my family’s businesses. So I could be happy. “Contentment,” I added. “Your friendship.”
“You have one of those things.” Travis tapped the middle of my forehead, and I grabbed his wrist.
There was dried paint on his fingertips. I kissed the base of his thumb. Did kissing his hand break our rules?
Probably.
“I need to leave,” I said.
“Why?” His voice shook.
“Because it’s hard to resist you.”
Travis’s smile flashed as bright as the strobe lights. “Shit, I love it when you flirt. We’ve come full circle. Back at the Lumberyard, where you can’t resist me. Only this time, I wouldn’t get mad, and we’d kiss. Because kissing you is great, Connor, and I like it way too much.”
“Two more days,” I said, my voice suddenly ragged. Why had we decided not to fool around this week, again? I was having a hard time remembering.
“Two days,” he agreed.
He stepped back so our bodies weren’t as close anymore.
“Are you going to stay?” I asked. We both lived within walking distance of the Yard, so we’d met here.
He nodded. “I want to dance.”
“Will you text me when you get home safe tonight?”
He swayed toward me at my words. “Of course.”
“I’ll pick you up before the cookout at my parents’ house.”
“Where we’ll burn some bushes,” he said, his eyes wide and innocent.
I touched the paint on his face one more time, watching as he closed his eyes, as he trembled. Then I said goodbye.
TRAVIS
There was no reason to be nervous about a redneck cookout. I repeated that over and over in my head on the drive to Connor’s home in the boondocks.
But of course there were a million reasons to be terrified of a redneck cookout.
Connor’s family surely wasn’t so bad. They had accepted his bisexuality easily enough, so I hoped they wouldn’t be rude to a Black gay kid who was fucking their son. Even though we currently weren’t fucking and it was killing me.
Clean Break Page 16
