by Elaine White
“Your Pops sounds like a smart man,” Fearghas claimed, with a faint smile.
“He really is.”
Chapter 6
Three Days Later
The lunchtime heart to hearts with Fearghas still shocked Sterling, even more so when he appeared right in front of his friends, to still sit at his table and talk with them. As if it were any other day and he was used to joining them whenever he felt like it.
Not only did he join them every day, but they had the strangest conversations.
I love tennis. I'm really lucky that my dad doesn't push it or want me to be anything but who I am. With his money, I could go to the finest schools, the poshest places and have the most expensive trainers in the business, but he's happy to let me stay with the guy I like, train when I want and let me play for the love of playing. It's not just a sport and a competition to him. My love for tennis is the same as his love for hockey. What do you love, Sterling?
Maths, art, literature. Lots of things. I don't really have a passion, per se.
I'm sure you do. What about your books?
I really do love reading. But I can't write for shit. I tried once, but I just don't have the imagination. I have too much of an analytical mind, I suppose. All that maths and chemistry stuff buzzing around in my head keep my thinking “what's logical.” But, romance isn't really logical.
And that's what you like most? Romance?
Romance, science fiction and a good murder mystery. What I really love is to read. I could spend my whole life just reading, forever.
Then that's your passion.
I guess it is.
As nice as it had been to get to know Fearghas better, it hadn't quite been as illuminating as the one it led into.
So, you don't like the RPG stuff?
Hmm, not really my thing, Fearghas. It doesn't have the same feel as a novel, where I get to be inside the characters’ heads. I don't like not knowing where the story is going or what's going to happen next. It's more exciting in a book, because I can speculate and either be right or wrong. But not knowing, because it's not there is really frustrating.
I guess I could see that. But your friends are having an RPG night, tonight?
Yup. There's rumour of a tournament coming to town, so they want to get in some extra practice, since they might not play while the tournament is here.
Cool.
And then, out of nowhere, it had come along. What his Pops insisted was inevitable, but that Sterling was still having trouble imagining.
So, if you're not going to RPG night, do you want to go somewhere? I know you don't like unplanned outings, so maybe I could join you at tennis club? You have that tonight, right?
Yeah, well remembered.
Well, you know...tennis. Sticks in the brain. So...do you want to?
O-okay.
Then Fearghas had squeezed his hand and left to go to class, two seconds before the bell rang. It had been the most confusing, exhilarating and surprising moment of his entire life.
That had been last night and their 'date' had gone perfectly. Walking to the gym and playing tennis together. They'd grabbed a chippy and ended up walking, talking and eating for twenty minutes in the park. When they were done, and it was growing dark, Fearghas had driven him home.
It had been perfect. And still not enough.
“I just don't know, Pops.”
Now that it was the day after the big 'non-date', Sterling was feeling a little more confident that his wish had come true, just in a much more unexpected way. He'd hoped there might be some kind of 'happy ending' to the tennis non-date, but there was no kiss goodnight, not even a peck on the cheek or a hint that Fearghas wanted anything other than friendship from him.
“Well, it sounds encouraging. And it's only been a few days,” Pops reasoned with a smile, as he dished out his famous pasta dish. “Miracles don't happen overnight, if you want them to last. Are you still meeting him tonight?” he wondered, passing him a bowl full of goodness.
Sterling shrugged, not sure what to do. He'd told Fearghas he'd think about going out with him, for a walk and a drink at a local pub. He wasn't old enough to drink, but Fearghas insisted, because there was a local band playing that they just had to see. He was looking forward to it, but at the same time, his musical taste wasn't anything like what he expected Fearghas' to be.
“What are you so unsure about?”
“I don't know...what might happen if he likes me, what might happen if he doesn't. And I'm not sure which one I want to be real,” he confessed, wondering if this was all too good to be true. “And, honestly Pops, I don't remember how I ended up in the water. How this all started. Or why. Isn't that important?” he asked, pretty sure that he was missing something that mattered. That he needed to know.
His Pops took a seat beside him, looking thoughtful, as he stirred his pasta and gazed into the rich red sauce. “It might be. Have you been having dreams, since that night?” he wondered, going back to his psychologist voice that he knew all too well.
Sterling considered what he was really asking; had there been any significant dreams about water or the fairground that may have been repressed memories coming through into his dreams. “Maybe. There's one...it's a little vague and it's not about water,” he explained, as he thought back to that dream from two nights ago. “I was in a teacup, like from the fairground that we visited when I was little. It was spinning too fast and I hit the back of my head, then I fell out of the cup and hit my head again. It was strange. Like I just kept hitting my head on things, all over the place, but I could never see what it was.”
With a hum, Pops took a mouthful of pasta and chewed, with that contemplating look. “Was there anything else in the dream?” he asked, not giving anything away, as usual.
“Not really. Just...a lot of doors. Teacup doors that I kept falling out of or that were locked so I couldn't get out.” Sterling shrugged, because he had no idea if that meant anything.
“Interesting. I think you should invite Fearghas here, for a movie night. I have some work to finish off down here and you guys can hang out upstairs, in your room,” he said, out of nowhere.
This was the first time he'd ever been told he was allowed a non-friend boy in his room. He wasn't sure whether to be grossed out or ecstatic. It was Fearghas after all, so some privacy might inspire him to change the no-kissing thing that was going on between them. Or it might make Sterling act like an idiot and ruin everything. Either way, he'd know what was happening, he supposed. He'd get a resolution.
“Okay.” With a nod, he grabbed his phone from the table, where he'd not long switched it off and put it aside for the night. He ate as it booted up, then typed a text one handed, asking Fearghas over.
Pops is asking if you want to come over rather than going out. It's a bit cold to go out, but we can still go if you want to see the band? Fancy a geek-movie marathon, instead? I can educate you in geekdoms.
It took a few minutes before he got a ping with Fearghas' reply.
Great idea! When do you want me to come over?
Then, a second later.
Oh, the band cancelled. Some sickness going about.
Sterling wasn't sure whether that was good news or if Fearghas would have cancelled had he not changed their plans. Saying the band had cancelled anyway was a little bit like a backhanded compliment; it didn't say either way whether he wanted to actually hang out with him or not.
Instead of complaining or asking for clarification, he texted back a simple, non-argumentative agreement.
Great. Around seven?
Perfect. See you then.
With a nod, he set his phone aside and looked up at his Pops. “Well, he says he'll come. Said the band cancelled anyway, due to sickness.”
Without having to say anymore, his Pops smiled and read his mind. “You think he was going to cancel on you or change your plans?” he wondered, not even bothering to look up to challenge him face to face.
“I guess. I mean, he
knows I don't like change and that I like plans, schedules and whatever. But he only mentioned it because I texted him first,” Sterling explained, knowing that he could say anything to his Pops and never have to worry that he'd say the wrong thing. Even if he did, his Pops would say it wasn't 'wrong', because he was only following his instincts and speaking from the heart.
“True. But, perhaps you beat him to the punch?” Pops suggested, his smile growing softer and more considerate. “It's possible that Fearghas didn't want to change your plans so suddenly, so he thought it better to still see them through, even though the band had cancelled, out of consideration for you? Then, when you offered an alternative, he agreed.”
Unfortunately, that made a lot of sense.
“Okay, Pops. You win again,” he admitted, lifting his cup of sparkling water to toast his genius.
Pops lifted his own glass and clinked them together. “One day, you'll win and I'll be rendered speechless. I'll enjoy these small victories until then,” he claimed, full of pride and confidence that Sterling would really do those things. And he hoped he would.
By the time Fearghas arrived, Sterling's confidence had taken a tennis ball to the gut and was lying feebly on the floor along with his hope that this could be a real date. He wasn't sure what started it, but he was already fretting over every small thing by the time the doorbell rang.
Rushing to answer it, he ignored his reflection in the mirrored frame above the fireplace and grabbed the handle. Stopping to take a second to breathe, he opened the door and smiled.
Then froze.
Slowly, his smile drooped and tears prickled his eyes.
The moment Fearghas looked up and met his gaze, Sterling shut the door in his face. Breathing hard, he turned and rested against the door, staring at his own living room blindly.
That tear already streaking down Fearghas' cheek had clicked a brief flash of light, then a quick image and, finally, a sharp, terrifying stab to the back of the head. In that moment, seeing him standing on the doorstep, drenched by the rain and crying, Sterling remembered how he ended up in the water. And why he couldn't remember.
The spinning lights from the machine were blinding, but there was a strange blob of darkness inside it. As Sterling leaned forward to blink against the light and try to make out the shape, something hard hit him in the back of the head.
Dazed, he tried to reach up to feel his head, wondering if some flying projectile had hit him accidentally. Before he could reach shoulder height, his vision blurred and a second sharp contact joined the ache in the back of his head. His eyelids drooped as nausea roiled in his gut and his senses scattered.
It was dark when he next opened his eyes. Sterling wanted to look around, but he felt so heavy. He could hear noises nearby, but when he raised his hand to touch his head, he felt a tight band around his wrists.
Looking down took a lot of effort and made him feel dizzy and sick. But he finally managed to catch a glimpse of some kind of fabric around his wrists. Maybe a scarf? If so, it was bright pink and had white love hearts all over it.
Where had he seen that before?
It didn't matter. What mattered was that there were angry voices nearby and he felt trapped, like a caged animal. He had to escape. He didn't know what was happening or why, but he knew it couldn't be anything good. Not if they were willing to knock him out and tie him up.
Sterling paused, took a slow, steadying breath and told himself to focus. His Pops had taught him how to handle tricky situations; a mugging, a kidnapping, even just a regular old school beating, if necessary. Always be prepared, he said. Well, he was prepared. Once he'd calmed down, he twisted his wrists and felt all around the binding, until he found the tight knot. Whoever had tied him up knew what they were doing.
So did he.
Bit by bit, he inched the knot loose, then pulled it free. With his hands loose, he turned over and looked around, evaluating his surroundings. He was surrounded by bushes, but he could see a distant light, so he began to crawl towards it. Survival came first, as his Pops always said. His dad actually agreed on that one, which was unusual, but he claimed that it was better to get away alive than to try to identify his attacker and end up dead. Sterling had no interest in ending up dead.
Crawling hurt every muscle, because of how heavy he felt, but he persisted, using the flat of his hands rather than his nails. He didn't want to do any damage or clog them up right now. He might need to scratch his way free, if he was caught trying to escape.
As it was, the voices behind him were growing louder and angrier and, for a split second, he felt sure he heard a Glaswegian accent in there. But he may have just been imagining it. Of course, it was also perfectly possible. It didn't mean it had to be Fearghas. Glasgow was a big place.
Continuing through the bushes, he tried his best to make as little noise as possible. He looked behind him one last time, sure that he wasn't being followed, but finding the desperate need to check overriding his good sense to keep looking forward.
His right hand slipped off the edge of the grass beneath him and he fell flat on his face. Lifting himself up again, he tentatively felt around with his left hand for the edge and pulled himself as close as he dared.
He was at the lake! There were people in boats up ahead, but when he opened his mouth to ask for help, his throat felt raw. When a boat passed just a few feet away, Sterling's eyes grew wide. He knew those people. That was Vito and Rook!
He lifted his right hand to wave for their attention. His exuberance forced his left hand off the edge and he tumbled forward, just as a second boat came rushing down the lake, with three kids screaming through an argument about who was going to row.
Sterling fell into the water, one hand reaching for the people he knew only vaguely, through Harrison's work with local LGBT groups. Their faces were on posters, promoting Zero Tolerance in schools and telling the story of how two fifteen year olds found love through the support group at their high school. If he could just reach them, they would help. He knew they would.
But though his feet kicked feebly under the water, the kids came rowing backwards, still screaming at each other. His splashes couldn't be heard over their fight.
“H-h-” He swallowed a mouth full of water and ducked under for a moment, before forcing his legs to fight back. “Hel-help!” he shouted, but then one of the kids stood up and threw his paddle into the water, smacking Sterling on the back of the head.
He sank like the Titanic. Tragically, one of his favourite movies.
Chapter 7
Sterling gasped, as he fell to his knees in his living room. He couldn't believe that a glimmer of light could cause such a sudden rush of memories to come flooding back to him. But he still didn't understand.
And someone was knocking on the door.
Fearghas!
Standing quickly, he yanked open the door and dragged Fearghas into the room, to throw him against the wall. Sterling slammed the front door and faced the crush he'd just started falling even harder for. That would all fade away if he said the wrong thing right now. Until he explained, Sterling wasn't letting him leave and he certainly wasn't going to say anything about how he felt towards Fearghas.
“You remember, don't you?” his crush asked softly.
He only managed a jerky nod, feeling volatile and terrified at the same time. But he wanted Fearghas to explain. He opened his mouth to demand that of him, but didn't get the chance.
His Pops walked into the room with a bowl of popcorn and froze in the doorway. His massive six foot frame nearly filled the space, his wide shoulders practically touching both sides of the frame. “What's wrong?” he asked, his tone hard and cold, as his eyes shot towards Fearghas, who was soaking wet and still crying.
Sterling didn't know what to say or do, so he just stood there and looked to Fearghas for an explanation.
Taking a deep breath, he began to talk. “I was on my way here when Deryn showed up at my house. She was rambling about something awful h
aving happened, that she should have told me sooner, but now that she thought you and I were dating, she just had to tell me,” he explained, reaching up to rake a hand through his hair. “She told me about the night at the carnival. How you were sitting beneath a tree, blinded by light from the wishing machine.”
That tallied with what he'd seen, so Sterling kept quiet, not contradicting him or giving him an opportunity to hide behind excuses.
“I couldn't believe it. I mean, I'd gone to buy tickets for the movie showing and only been gone five, ten minutes,” Fearghas continued, looking somewhat distraught. “Deryn said that she heard you whispering your wish...for the man of your dreams.” He looked up briefly to meet Sterling's eye, but he could only look away. He wasn't ashamed of that wish, only that Fearghas seemed to know what he'd meant. “She said they should convince me to show up there and, when Antonio asked why, she told him that she thought you had a huge crush on me, so it would be like making your wish come true,” he concluded.
Sterling walked over to the sofa and sank down, before grabbing a cushion and holding it close. He didn't like that Deryn knew about his crush or that she'd told other people. He'd thought her better than that; better than gossip, better than setting him up for disappointment or humiliation.
Behind him, he heard a clink and then his Pops walked over to sit with him. Those strong arms wrapped around him and he couldn't resist; he sank into their protection and comfort. He wished his dad were here, too. He needed both of them to survive the humiliation of what was happening. He'd been bundled up and taken to Fearghas, as far as he could guess; wrapped up like a prize and handed over to someone he'd been crushing on for years.
