by Sarina Bowen
“Judd,” Reed snaps.
“Again with this shit?” Zimmer says from right behind me. “How many chances does he get, Reed? Muzzle his bullshit or I am fucking done, too.”
My poor, tired brain is trying to keep up. Although “cocksucker” is one of Judd’s favorite words. It sounds like he knows…
“Hey,” a stiff voice says from the stairs.
I turn my head, and Keaton is right there, walking toward me. His hazel eyes conduct a quick head-to-toe tour of me, as if he’s assessing me for damage.
But, Christ, all the damage is his. Keaton’s lip is split. There are deep circles under his eyes, and there’s a tightness in his expression that I have never seen before.
“Shut it, Judd,” Keaton says now. “If anyone is getting tossed out of Alpha Delt, it’s you.”
“Yeah?” The asshole takes a step toward Keaton. “Let’s have that vote. It might not turn out the way you think. Are you even gonna show up and participate? Or will you pussy out again and let Bailey call the shots?”
Keaton pales, and everyone else seems to brace himself. Until Tanner steps between Judd and Keaton, keeping the two of them apart. “Back to your corners.”
I suck in a breath. What is happening right now?
“Un-fucking-called for,” Keaton growls.
“I gotta go upstairs,” I mutter. Not only do I need to wash the smell of loser off my body, but I’m too tired to think. If Judd mouths off one more time I’m gonna punch him for sure. And then I really will get thrown out of Alpha Delt. Just like he hopes. I turn toward the stairs, maneuvering past Reed and Zimmer.
“Your fuck buddy will be right up, I’m sure,” Judd chirps.
I freeze as silence descends on us. But then I have to turn around. And sure enough, everyone is watching me, wondering what I’ll say.
I’m too shocked to speak. Because…everyone knows? Jesus Christ. When did that happen? And why? Keaton could’ve come up with a million excuses as to why we were together when we pulled up in that car. I mean, obviously he revealed the truth about our weekend to the lawyer, because he went on the record as my official alibi.
But he told the fraternity?
Keaton’s is the last face I check. He’s pale, his mouth a hard line. When he catches me look at him, he closes his eyes.
Oh my fucking god.
“I’m sorry,” he grinds out.
“Yeah, I’m sure you are,” I mumble. I’m sure he’s sorry he ever met me at all.
Keaton flinches, but I don’t know if it’s because of my words, or because there’s someone pounding on the front door right now.
“Luke Bailey!” shrieks a voice from the other side of the six-panel oak door. “Someone help me!”
I’m across the foyer and yanking open the door in a huge hurry. “Mom,” I say gruffly as soon as I see her tear-stained face. “Calm down.”
She tries to push past me into the house, but I tighten my grip on the door, keeping her outside. “Aren’t you going to let me in?” she sobs.
“Not necessary,” I say in a low voice. “Why are you here?”
“Lukey! You need to come home right now! They took Joey!”
“When?”
“Just now! Those pigs showed up and accused him of stealing computers or something,” she sobs. “They arrested him and took him away! We need to go and get him out. You have to post bail—”
“No,” I ease the door closed behind me so that we’re alone on the stoop.
“W-what?” Her voice trembles, and she’s sniffling repeatedly. “W-what do you mean, no? He’s your brother. He needs help.”
“Yes, he needs help,” I agree. “But it’s not going to come from me, Mom. Those computers he stole? He tried to blame the theft on me.”
As always, my mother passionately comes to Joe’s defense. “You’re wrong. Joey would never do that!”
“He would, and he did.” Bitterness coats my throat. “He stole my ID and broke into my school, Mom. And then he let me take the rap for it.” Her voice isn’t the only voice that’s shaking. “I-I spent the night in lock-up. Do you…Christ…do you know how demoralizing that was?”
“We need to post Joey’s bail,” she says without acknowledging a word I’ve said. “It’s only seven hundred and fifty dollars! And then we have to work on the lawyer…”
“No,” I repeat, angrily this time. “I won’t be posting his bail. In fact, if for some reason the justice system fails and he isn’t thrown back in prison for this, I’ll be filing a restraining order against him.” I take a breath. “I never want to lay eyes on Joe Bailey again.”
There’s a short, shocked silence.
When she speaks again, I don’t expect what comes out.
“You ungrateful little shit,” my mother growls. “Do you realize how much he’s done for you! How much we’ve both done for you! I gave you life—”
My jaw drops. “Really? You’re going there, are you?”
“And now you have the chance to save your brother’s life and you’re deserting him? You’re just going to let him rot in jail?” Her sobs grow louder. “Who are you! You’re not my son! My son would never do something like this! I swear to God, Luke, if you do this you’re not my son anymore!”
I feel perfectly hollow inside as she says this. She’s never gone with the nuclear option before, but I feel strangely calm, anyway. Because we were always going to end up here.
“Okay,” I finally whisper.
Mom’s sobs literally cut off mid-wail. “Okay?” she says, standing up straighter. “You’ll post bail?”
“No.” I try to swallow the enormous lump in my throat. I fail. “Okay, then I guess you and I are done. Write me out of the will, Ma.” My laugh is brittle.
“You little shit,” she hisses. “No loyalty. Just like your father.”
“Ma,” I gasp, the insult catching me completely off guard. It’s the deepest cut she’s ever given me. My whole life she’s referred to him as “that cruel man who did us a favor when he left.”
“It’s true,” she says. “I’m sure you’ll wind up as lonely as he is.”
That’s not a thing that mothers are supposed to wish for their sons. Then again, when has this woman ever been a mother to me? But even knowing that, a wave of sorrow crests over me just the same. This is really it, then. The last conversation we’ll share. I ought to feel relieved, but I’m gutted instead.
Sucking in a breath, I take a step back toward the door. As I turn around, I don’t miss the sight of faces in the window. People are watching my mother cast me out of her life, like they’d watch a fight at the hockey game.
I open the door and step inside. Without another word to the woman who gave birth to me, I close the door again and lock it. Then I bolt up the stairs—all of them—and escape to my room.
The shower waits for me. I turn the taps to a scalding temperature and shed my clothes.
Too bad shame doesn’t wash off.
“Bailey.”
Keaton’s gruff voice reaches me as I pull on a clean T-shirt. He’s in the doorway, concern written all over his handsome face.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Does it matter?” The whole frat just witnessed my twenty-four-hour lifesplosion. I’m basically numb by now.
He steps forward, as if to hug me. But I just can’t right now. I take an awkward step to the side and bend over my desk, rifling through my papers. “How much did the lawyer cost? I need to set up a payment plan with your dad.”
“There won’t be any payment plan,” he says, letting his irritation out.
“Yeah, there will be. I don’t want your dad rescuing me. I don’t want anyone rescuing me.”
“Even me?”
“Especially you. It wasn’t even twenty-four hours ago when I pointed out to you that Alpha Delt would hate this.” I make a motion between his body and mine. “I guess I called that one.”
“They don’t matter,” he says quickly.
He swallows hard. “Whatever. I don’t care.”
“But maybe I do.”
“You do not,” he spits. “That’s a cop-out. You’re just looking for an excuse not to step out of your comfort zone! Shit got ugly and you bailed on me again.”
“How is this a surprise to you? I don’t like to owe people. You know this. I hate feeling like an ungrateful little bitch.”
“So don’t be one!” he roars. “And I’m not talking about money. That’s beyond your control. When it comes to love, you’re a fucking miser. Like it would kill you to admit that you care.”
It would kill me, though. Because when I look at Keaton Hayworth III, I see the kind of man who can never be mine. Whatever he thinks he sees in me will eventually get old. One day soon he’ll wake up and wonder what the hell he’s doing with a punk who nobody else ever bothered to love. His obsession will fade. Maybe it’s because he gets sick of my bullshit. Or maybe another, badder bad boy catches his eye.
Either way, we were never going to last. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.
“It was just a hookup, Keaton,” I say quietly.
“It wasn’t.”
“Yeah? When did you change the rules? Is this like the election all over again? You bend the regulations, and I fall in line?”
His neck gets instantly red. “You don’t get to keep throwing that mistake in my face!”
“You make a lot of mistakes, apparently. I was the biggest one. Ask anyone downstairs. Go on.”
He blinks, his eyes red. Then he lifts his aristocratic chin a couple of degrees. And he leaves my room.
As Thick as Your Hand
Keaton
Another Sunday. Another brunch with Dad.
Except nothing at all is the same. I’ve just had the loneliest two weeks of my life, and I don’t know where I’ll find the energy to make nice with my dad.
This time I’ve changed the venue. I had to get out of the Alpha Delt house. So when classes ended on Friday, I got into my car and drove down to New York for the weekend.
But, shit, even driving down 95 made me think of my outing with Luke. The last weekend I got away from school was so amazing.
This time there’s no sexfest and no drunken kisses. I crash at my father’s tiny midtown condo for the weekend. It’s where he sleeps when he doesn’t want to go back to Long Island after late nights at work.
On Sunday morning I walk all the way from Midtown to the Upper West Side. Our plan is to have Sunday brunch at Good Enough to Eat. The Hayworths know how to party. And this place has slices of bacon as thick as your hand. It’s almost good enough to cure my heartache.
Almost.
Two long weeks have passed since Luke’s arrest, and he’s still not really talking to me. Or sleeping with me. Or even looking me in the eye.
In fact, he’s avoiding the house altogether.
And so am I, if I’m honest. I catch my friends giving me the side-eye sometimes. It’s not like I think they’re worried about catching gay cooties or anything. It’s more like they can’t figure out what to say. Anyone with eyes can see that Luke and I are on the outs. But I guess they think you can’t use the same back slaps and tequila challenges to sweep away a breakup with a dude.
Although Tanner offered to take me out and get me drunk. And Dan Zimmer quite awkwardly offered his ear if I had any questions for him. “I could teach you the secret handshake,” he’d joked.
But I turned them down. I’m not in the mood for anyone to make me feel better, I guess. So my gloomy face continues to discourage questions. And I’m still getting glances that range from curious to worried.
And sometimes it’s Luke who is sneaking looks at me. On those rare occasions when we’re both around, I see the regret in his eyes. He’s not very good at hiding it.
I know he still wants me. I know he never stopped. But you can’t make someone get over their issues and love you. I know that he’s never had anyone trustworthy in his life, and I really want to be that person. But what if he’s just too broken to let me?
Luke is much like an abused stray. Okay, now I’m comparing the guy I like to a dog. But animals are my jam, so that’s actually a compliment from me. Anyway, you see these heart-wrenching videos of abused dogs who thrive with the right kind of attention. They gain weight, and their coats become glossy. If you believe YouTube, they’re the most loyal animals in the world.
But if you read enough animal-behavior literature, you know it doesn’t always end that way. Some dogs never get past their terror.
When I reach the corner of Columbus Avenue and West 85th, I’m already depressed. But I plaster on a pleasant face and cross the street to meet my dad.
Today’s the day when I will finally tell him how to steer himself off the exit ramp of my life. So at least I have a plan.
It’s a warm day in early May, so I scan the outdoor tables first. And—shit! My mother is the first person I spot. She’s sitting there next to Dad.
I’m being tag-teamed. Awesome.
“Hey guys,” I say, straightening my spine. Whatever I can say to one parent, I suppose I can say to two.
“Keaton!” My mother pops out of her chair. “Hi, baby!”
I kiss her on the cheek and force myself to smile.
The tables are tight, and my dad is trapped beside her, so he offers his hand to shake. Like real men do.
To be fair, he hasn’t said a word about my little revelation. I honestly don’t know what he thinks about me right now. But it doesn’t change my message.
I take a seat, and the waiter swoops in. He has an Aussie accent and hipster glasses. He’s pretty cute. Stuff like that just pops into my head all the time now, and I don’t try to chase it out like I used to. So at least I have that going for me.
“I’ll have the Lumberjack,” I say before he can even offer me a menu. “And coffee. Thanks.”
My parents order, and then we all just stare at each other for a second.
“How’ve you been?” Dad asks finally.
“All right. The end of the term is always hard.”
“I hope you’re getting enough sleep,” Mom says.
“Plenty, actually.” I clear my throat. Sleep isn’t really an issue now that I’m alone in my bed every night.
“Also…” I decide to get it all out in the open before we eat. “I got this last week.” I pull a piece of paper out of my pocket and unfold it. I hand it to my father and watch as he scans it.
Welcome to the Orca Expedition, it says. Departing from Valparaíso, Chile, on May 19th.
“I got in, and I want to go,” I say. “It doesn’t cost anything…”
“That was never the issue,” Dad points out.
“Just saying.” I sigh. “You wanted me to get a degree in biology.”
“Or chemistry. Or finance,” Dad adds.
“Finance was never happening,” I tell him. “It’s not the least bit interesting to me. And I’d be terrible at it. I really like biology, though. And I want to study animal behavior in graduate school after I leave Darby.”
His shoulders sag. “But why? A PhD will take five years if you’re fast and seven if you’re slow. That’s pushing back your employment at Hayworth Harper for years.”
“That’s just it, Dad. I don’t want to work for you. I love research. I’m going to be an academic.”
He groans. “Swear to God, can’t you just be gay? Do you have to be an academic, too? It’s like a dagger through the heart.”
My jaw opens as wide as a python’s before a meal.
The silence at the table drags on for several seconds, until Mom finally speaks. “Honey, is it serious with that boy?” she asks.
“No,” I mumble. “But I wish it was.”
Mom blinks.
Dad visibly swallows.
I search for the right words, but luckily the cute waiter returns. He puts a mug of coffee down in front of me. “Thank you,” I say with genuine gr
atitude. Because I really need something to do with my hands.
“Keat,” my mother says, covering his hand. “Talk to us.”
“What do you want me to say?” I awkwardly wrap my hands around the mug. “That I’m gay? Because…yeah. I think I am.”
Dad pounces on the I think part. “So you’re not sure?”
I take a breath. Then I release it in a fast burst. “No, I am sure,” I admit. “I guess I was trying to soften it up for you guys. But I’m certain about this. My relationship with—” I stop, rephrasing. “Being in a relationship with a guy gave me all the answers I didn’t even know I was searching for.”
Mom nods slowly. “Annika…?” She lets the question hang, but I’m not entirely sure what she’s asking.
“Annika didn’t know,” I say with a shrug. “I actually haven’t even told her yet. But if you’re worried that I was, I dunno, using her, or leading her on…I wasn’t.” My tone is firm, because it’s the total truth. “I loved her, and our relationship was real to me. But there was always something…missing, I guess. Something that didn’t feel entirely right.”
This time Dad is the one nodding. “It always felt very platonic to us,” he says grudgingly.
I eye him in surprise. “Seriously? All you did was talk about how much you wanted us to get married.”
He shrugs. “Because she’s a wonderful girl, and she’ll make a wonderful wife to some lucky man. But if we’re all being honest right now, your mother and I did notice that your relationship seemed to lack passion.”
Mom sighs. “We did notice.”
I have to smile. “And you couldn’t have filled me in on that?”
They both break into nervous laughter.
I take a gulp of coffee, then set down the mug again. “I can’t believe how cool you’re being about all this.”
Dad arches a brow. “Did you think we’d disown you?” he says dryly. “Who do I look like, your uncle Chris?”
Mom is quick to come to her brother’s defense. “Christopher didn’t disown Madeline! He just froze her trust fund until she completed her rehab program.”
My cousin Maddie broke her back a few years ago and got hooked on painkillers. Uncle Chris wasn’t thrilled. Fortunately, she’s clean now.
