Cole stood and came over to me, standing so close that I could smell his cologne. He smelled really good.
I looked up and met his gaze as his hands came to rest on either side of my shoulders. “You okay?” he asked, concern lacing his features.
“I’m an Orioles fan,” I sighed, my shoulders sinking.
“And you’re drunk,” he said, no doubt getting a whiff of my whiskey soaked breath. “And you smell like an ashtray.”
Dammit. I’d forgotten to chew gum before I came upstairs.
I’d taken a bit of a detour from my rental car to the hotel bar and had a few (a dozen, maybe) drinks before coming upstairs. I couldn’t get Derrick’s words out of my head. Fag. He’d called me a fucking fag, and it pissed me off. So I decided to get drunk. Probably not the best decision since my freaking amazing boyfriend was just sitting upstairs waiting for me to get back after being gone all day, and in hindsight, he probably could have made things a lot better than the whiskey had.
“I am drunk,” I announced, as the room started to sway. Or maybe it was me. “And I like cigarettes. I quit, and then I started again, because I was stressed out. Sue me! Derrick is a jerk, and I hate him, and I have had several shots that were quite enjoyable, and now I just want to make out with you for like three hours.”
I puckered my lips and waited for Cole to kiss me. He made a face like he didn’t want to come anywhere near me.
“Come on. Let’s get you to bed,” he said resignedly.
“Oh, bed already. Okay! Let’s have some more sex. I liked that a lot.”
I felt him pull my shirt over my head before I collapsed on the bed, and then he was pulling my jeans, my shoes and my socks off.
“No, no sex tonight,” he said as he made me stand again for a few seconds before he pulled the sheets back and laid me down on the bed.
I remember looking over at him and telling him he was beautiful before I flat out fell asleep. It was not the most epic night in the history of nights, and I’d regret it for a long time, especially when I finally remembered what else I said to him right before I passed out.
When I woke up the next morning, my head was buried in between two pillows, my nose smashed against the mattress, and there was a vague pounding like someone was tapping on my skull with a hammer.
“What the fuck happened?” I muttered, dragging my face along the mattress before it hit something solid.
“Sleeping here,” someone grumbled, and my head jerked up in surprise. I hadn’t actually expected to get an answer. I’d been sleeping alone for so many months that I’d forgotten Cole was there.
Shit, I knew I was lucky he was still there, as flashbacks of me coming home drunk and passing out flooded my brain. Afraid that he might leave because I was an immature drunk, I unceremoniously draped my arm across his chest and snuggled against him, hoping to redeem myself for my really uncalled for behavior the night before.
“Don’t leave,” I mumbled against his chest before I passed out again.
When I awoke a few hours later, the space next to me was empty. I looked around frantically for Cole, but he wasn’t in the room. I didn’t hear the shower running, and upon closer inspection, I saw that his suitcase was gone. He’d fucking left.
The feeling like I wanted to die because I’d drunk my weight in whiskey was only multiplied by the fact that I realized how badly I’d screwed up. Cole had taken care of me the night before, he’d slept next to me, but he hadn’t stuck around.
Fuck! I punched the mattress beneath me.
I was so mad at myself in that moment, but worse, I was mad at Derrick. Pissed. Furious. Outraged.
Adrenaline started to course through me and overshadowed the hangover from hell that was threatening to kill me, as I jumped out of bed and stalked toward the door to my hotel room. I didn’t even bother to grab a key or put on clothes for that matter. I just stalked down the hall and pounded as hard as I could on the door to Derrick’s room.
“What?” he called from the other side after a few seconds of silence, and just hearing his voice made me even madder.
I just pounded on the door again.
“What the fuck is–”
Bam!
I didn’t even wait for him to finish talking before I slammed my fist in his face. He stumbled back against the wall, giving me space to enter his hotel room and shut the door behind me before I punched him again. He swung back at me, his fist connecting with my jaw. It hurt like hell, but I pushed the pain away as I barreled forward, rage coursing through me.
“You wanna call me a fag? Do you?” I asked, as I slammed my fist into his jaw once more. “Go on! Call me a fag. Do it!”
I slammed my fists into his ribs in quick succession a few times, and he got one good punch to the side of my head that made my eye feel like it was going to pop out of its socket. In retaliation, I slammed an uppercut right into his jaw.
He staggered back a few steps and then tried to swing at me again, and I saw the anger in his eyes, but I didn’t care. I grabbed his fist in mid-air, and shoved him with my other hand. There wasn’t a vast amount of space in the room, so as he went down, his back scraped along the corner of the dresser before he landed on the floor with a thud. Then I was on him, pummeling his face with my fists, showing him just much I was no longer going to lie down and take his shit.
Cole was gone. I’d fucked up, and he’d left because of me, but it was Derrick who’d provoked me, pushed me, and made me feel like shit. I hated him in that moment, and because it made me feel the tiniest bit better, I used his face as a punching bag, taking out everything I was feeling with each punch, each break of skin, each drop of blood.
He tried to fight back, but I had the clear advantage. We were sandwiched between the end of the king sized bed and the dresser, so once I was on top, he wasn’t getting me off. There would be no rolling and no over-powering. This was my fight, and it wasn’t over until I decided it was over.
Another punch to my temple had me seeing stars for a few seconds before I reeled back and slammed my fist against the side of Derrick’s head three times in quick succession. He looked at me dizzily and then tried to get up, but I straddled his waist and pressed down on his shoulders, keeping his arms at his sides.
“You just got your ass beat by a fag,” I spat at him, because I just couldn’t resist. Blood from my busted lip that he’d caused with one of the few hits he’d gotten in, along with spit, showered his face. “How does it feel, asshole? Huh?”
Then I punched him one last time, and he passed out, going limp beneath me.
My breath was coming in short bursts, as I sat there straddling his bare stomach and looked at the mess before me. His face was covering in blood and sweat, his lip was busted in two places, his eyes were going to be black, and his nose was definitely broken. Leo hadn’t broken it a few days earlier, but I sure had. There was also swelling and redness along his jaw. And I’d done all of it.
Suddenly the emotion of the whole night and the morning and what I’d done crashed over me. Before I lost it, I rolled off of Derrick, leaving him laid out on the floor, and pushed back against the nightstand. The tears overwhelmed me in a rush as they started to stream down my face and I took in his broken and battered body five feet away.
All I could do was hug my knees to my chest and cry it out. There was no other option. Weeks, months of feeling like I was losing control of everything, and then finally getting to a place where I was happy, and then losing it all, literally tore me up inside. Then to make matters worse, I’d just beat the shit of out my best friend, who regardless of what had gone on between us in the past week, was still my best friend, who I loved. I was just that kind of person. I couldn’t turn my back on him, no matter what shitty-ass things he’d done to me.
I shook as the tears ran down my cheeks, sobbing over everything I couldn’t control and how badly I’d screwed up for so long. And I’d been so happy the day before – before I’d driven Cole and all the happiness he brou
ght with him away. I was such a fucking idiot.
Maybe when Derrick woke up, he’d beat my ass. Maybe I’d let him. I probably deserve it.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and wiped the tears from my eyes. I felt drained and dazed and frankly a little nauseous if I was being honest. I looked up at Derrick, still lying prone in the exact same position.
I realized ten minutes had passed since I’d delivered my last blow, and he hadn’t moved. He made no signs of waking up. He was just lying there unconscious, and suddenly I panicked. I was afraid I’d killed him, and I didn’t know what to do.
Seeing his phone on the nightstand above me, I reached for it and with shaking hands dialed Zack’s number.
“Hey D,” he said on the fourth ring.
“It’s Andrew,” I said, and it came out on a sob.
“Drew, hey. What’s wrong? Why do you have Derrick’s phone?”
“Um, because Cole left this morning,” I said, my voice cracking like crazy. “Because I ruined everything, and then I went into Derrick’s room, sucker-punched him and then beat the shit out of him, and I, um, he’s not, he’s not waking up.”
“Shi-it!” Zack cursed. “I’m on my way. Stay where you are, but check to see if he’s breathing, and if he’s not, call the paramedics!”
“Okay,” I said, my voice shaking beyond control.
“Drew?” Zack asked.
“Yeah?” I said, the panic I felt practically overtaking me.
“It’s going to be okay. He’s going to be fine. Just check his breathing, okay?”
Zack had slowed down his instructions in an attempt to calm me down. It worked.
“Okay,” I said, trying to sound more confident. “Just hurry.”
“I will.”
I crawled over to where Derrick lay, his left eye starting to swell shut, his face bloody. He was so still. Tentatively, I reached my hand out and held it over his mouth. His nose was seeping blood, so I knew there was no way he could breathe out of it. His mouth was partially open, and I could feel faint breaths.
I breathed a sigh of relief, but then I was suddenly afraid that his mouth might be bleeding inside, and if the blood was running down his throat, then it could choke him. I didn’t want him to die. Before I could think about it, I rolled him over onto his side, and within a few seconds, he coughed and blood sprayed all over my bare calf. Then he pulled in a long, ragged breath and coughed a few times before his eyes opened. He looked up at me, disoriented for a few seconds, and then his eyes, or eye, since his left one was practically swollen shut, focused on me.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, because his face looked so horrible, and it was all my fault. I’d gone off the deep end.
As he tried to sit up, he groaned, and I wondered if I’d bruised or cracked his ribs. Fists had been flying before we toppled to the ground, and I was pretty sure I’d nailed his ribs a few times.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, as he touched his bottom lip that was split open, and pulled back his hand to see blood. “I’m so sorry, Derrick.”
His gaze met mine then and held it for a few seconds. I cringed, wondering if he was going to hit me.
“Me too,” he finally mumbled.
“What?” I asked, my voice sounding so foreign to me. I sounded as scared and as panicked as I felt.
“I’m sorry too,” he said, and then he grabbed me and pulled me into a hug, groaning as he did since he was no doubt in pain. “I love you, man. I’m sorry I acted like a dick.”
Tentatively, I hugged him back when I realized he wasn’t going to let me go.
“I didn’t know how to handle this stuff with you, and I panicked. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Drew. I’m sorry for treating you like shit and for letting the band down and not knowing how to handle any of it. I’m just sorry.”
I nodded, not realizing how much I needed to hear him say those words.
“I love you too,” I told him, because he probably needed to hear it.
He pulled back and looked at me before raking his fingers through his shoulder-length blond hair. His hairline was caked in blood that was starting to dry.
“Do you forgive me?” he asked, his eyes pleading with me.
I closed my eyes for a few seconds and shook my head. When I opened them again he was still watching me apprehensively.
“You really hurt me,” I told him, finally being honest.
He nodded. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I really am. I was a total asshole.”
“Yeah, you were.”
“I just . . . I was . . . I didn’t know how to deal with you being, you know, gay, and I panicked, I guess.” He shook his head. “It was shitty. I really am sorry. I feel like such a jerk.”
“Were you really doing coke again?” I asked, hoping he’d say no, that Zack was wrong.
Derrick tongue pressed into the crease of his mouth where it was split open. “Until last night, yeah. I started doing it again a few months back. Terrance had a plentiful stash, so he hooked me up. But I flushed everything I had left when I got home last night. I didn’t realize what it was doing to me, making me all crazy and shit until Zack pointed it out.”
I nodded. “Coke’s always made you wacked out. You know that.”
“I know, but it wasn’t just the coke. I was seriously freaked that if you were gay, you’d change and we wouldn’t be friends anymore. And I was pissed that I had to find out about you from my sister. Why didn’t you talk to me?”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Because I was afraid you’d act like you did,” I said, knowing it was the truth.
“Valid reason. I’m really sorry, man. Seriously.”
“I know.”
We both knew that him apologizing wouldn’t take back all the shit that he’d said. Those words would be burned in my brain for a long time, and even though we seemed to be cool in that moment, I knew I’d be wary of him for a while. I needed him to prove that he really could accept me for who I was before I could completely forgive him.
“Fuck. My face feels like it’s on fucking fire.”
“I’m sorry I hit you,” I said, feeling overly guilty.
He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I deserved it, and now I’ll probably never question how tough you are again. That’s the first time you’ve ever hit me in all the years we’ve known each other, and you hit hard.”
I nodded. “I know. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
“You’re a hell of a fighter,” he said then and moved his jaw a few times to loosen it. “For a pretty boy.”
I realized he was smiling when he said it, so I play punched him on the arm, and he winced.
“Oh, too soon. Sorry,” I said sarcastically.
He just smirked at me and shook his head. “Asshole,” he muttered playfully.
“So, we’re cool then?” I asked.
His tongue darted into the corner of his mouth where blood was seeping out of a cut. “We’re cool. I really do love you, man, and I am sorry. I won’t make fun of you again. I’m honestly okay with who you are. I know you’re still you. I thought you were going to change and get all girly on me, and I didn’t want to lose you. I realize now that I probably overreacted.”
I smiled. “Yeah, just a little bit.”
A pounding on the door had both of our heads lifting toward the sound. I realized I’d forgotten to call Zack and tell him Derrick was fine.
“Who the hell is that?” Derrick asked as Zack pounded on the door again.
“Probably someone else who you pissed off,” I said playfully, as Derrick slowly rose to standing, wincing the whole time. Then he sank down on the bed as if standing was just too much effort.
I opened the door to find both Zack and Leo standing there, concerned looks on their faces.
“He’s fine,” I told them, stepping back so they could enter the room.
Derrick eyed them from where he sat on the bed, looking as bruised and battered as he possibly could.
&nb
sp; “Jesus, Drew. You did a number on him.”
“I know,” I said, the guilt overtaking me once more.
“I’ll go get some ice,” Leo offered.
“Hey, I got in a few good punches,” Derrick defended, as I went to sit next to him on the bed. He shoulder-checked me playfully, and I smiled at him.
I wondered how ridiculous we both looked sitting there in just our boxers, bloody and bruised. But at least we were back to normal. I wasn’t the biggest fan of how we’d gotten there, but it was better than how things had been. I just hoped they stayed that way. I hated fighting with my friends.
Leo returned a few seconds later with ice that he’d wrapped in two towels and handed one to me and one to Derrick. The cool relief felt good on the places Derrick had nailed me.
“Okay,” Zack said then from where he sat in the desk chair. “I’m not sure what you guys all had planned today, and I don’t really care. We need a bonding day, so that’s what we’re going to do.”
I looked up at him in question, wondering what the hell he was talking about. I wasn’t really in a place where I wanted to sit around and talk about my feelings if that’s what he meant. Derrick and I had already had a heart-to-heart of sorts. We were good.
“Let’s grab the girls, Andrew, you can bring Cole if you want, and let’s go to Carwowinds.”
At the mention of Cole, my heart sunk, and I was sure it showed on my face.
“What? You don’t want to eat a shitload of junk food and ride rollercoasters until you puke, Drew?”
I forced a smile on my face, because that all sounded fun. “Sure, I do, but it’ll just be me. Cole left this morning.”
“Why?” Leo asked.
I sighed. “Because I got wasted at the hotel bar last night, and came back to the room drunk and smelling like cigarettes, and he was probably reminded of what an immature jackhole I am.”
“He really left?” Zack asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, he did.”
“Are you going to go after him?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ll call him later and apologize, but I’m not sure it’ll do any good.”
Broken Fairytales Series Box Set (Broken Fairytales, Buried Castles, Shattered Crowns) Page 84
