Chapter 14

JAX

I squeezed my eyes shut and dunked my head under the spray of water, letting it wash the salty sweat off of me.

I kind of wanted him to walk in.

What the fuck was wrong with me.

He never would, I know he never would.

He had nearly killed me, man. Fuck.

I had brought my shirt down from over my eyes to see him standing there, half-shrouded in shadow. His eyes had been on my stomach.

I had slipped up then. Let my guard down. Let him see that his presence affected me.

But I was glad I had working out.

He hadn't seen me without a shirt since we were fourteen. When we went swimming in the river near his aunts house. Or in his pool, for hours and hours, until we came out with wrinkly hands and sunburns, ready for to raid the freezer for popsicles.

The way he had looked at me had been different.

I think.

God, he was a fucking asshole.

Did he know? Did he suspect somehow - and that was why he was acting like this? To torture me?

I slick my wet hair back.

There's no way. He didn't have a cruel bone in his body.

......

His body....

I turned the water temperature down to cold, sucking in air as it hit me.

Disgusting.

Disgusting.

I was disgusting.

------

The hallways were empty as I walked to the school library. I never went to this place, but I didn't want to go home. I didn't want to go to Ryan's house either - his family had already done enough for me.

Fuck. I never went to the library. That shit was for nerds.

The lights were on, but the library woman wasn't there. There was just one kid, sitting in the corner, playing some game on one of the computers.

Duncan Eider.

That was his name. He was in my year, but looked younger - I think he'd been put up a year cos he was smart or something.

He was gay, and out - that was the only reason I knew his name. Some of Denver's football team would yell shit at him in the hallways. He seemed normal enough. He didn't do anything weird, I guess.

He looked at me from across the room nervously, forgetting about the game.

I rolled my eyes, slumping down in a chair and pulling out my phone.

Every now and then he would look over at me. I felt a wave of annoyance.

"What. " I said, deadpan. It wasn't very loud, but he definitely heard me.

He looked away quickly, mouthing "nothing" quickly.

God. Did he think I was hot?

This made me more annoyed.

So when he got up to leave half an hour later, I did too.

He glanced over his shoulder once in the hallway, but that was it. We turned a corner then I grabbed him by his backpack and slammed him into the lockers.

He gave a grunt of pain and turned around to face me.

"You're gay, aren't you? " I said, grinning. "You like guys?"

He just stared back at me. The look on his face - he wasn't even surprised. It was like this happened to him often. For some reason, that made me angrier.

I grabbed his shoulders and shoved him into the lockers again. "You're little f*g. Do you like to watch guys together? You like dicks? What are you, a girl?"

His eyes were shiny, but his face didn't change.

I drove my fist into his stomach and he doubled over. "You're disgusting. " I told him.

I grabbed the strap of his bag, pulling my fist back. I could see exactly where the punch would land, straight on his nose. He'd get a black eye. Maybe his nose would swell up. Maybe it would break. It would definitely bleed - he'd have to go home and explain that to his parents. From a fight? They'd ask. No, he'd say. Then why? They'd question.

Why?

He was staring at me, waiting for my fist to shoot forward.

"You disgust me. " I said and lunged.

But then I couldn't.

I toppled onto to him from the momentum, holding both sides of his shirt as he got slammed for the third time into the lockers.

I tore away, straightening up, wiping a hand across my face.

He was wide-eyed as he looked at me, confused.

I was breathing hard, glaring. I looked up at the ceiling of the corridor, at the ugly fluorescent lights. I looked back down at him.

"Why - " It was the first time he'd spoken. "Why didn't you hit me? "

I breathed in and out, hard. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. "

His eyebrows were so far up his forehead by now.

We stood in silence for a while longer.

"Can I - " I wiped my face again. "Can I get you anything? A coffee? McDonalds?"

His mouth was hanging open. "I- "

"I won't  - I won't hurt you. I promise. See, I stopped. I'm sorry. " My mind was a mess.

He closed his mouth and thought for a while. "Ok. " He said, then seemed surprised with his own answer.

------

The McFlurry was cold in my hands as I gripped it, crushing the plastic slightly. I hadn't touched it.

Duncan had finished his and was watching mine now. "Hey, are you going to drink that?" He asked, unabashed.

I slid it over to him silently.

"Thanks. " He said, immediately putting his mouth over the straw.

He took a long gulp then looked up at me from the other side of the table. "Is there any reason you did this? Usually when this happens they just leaving me bleeding on the ground. "

I fix my eyes on him. "So this happens often, does it? People... beating you up?"

He rolled his eyes. "People? More like just guys beating me up. The girls don't - they love me, even though I don't wear lipstick or none of that. "

Duncan had grown comfortable around me very fast, even though I had just attempted to beat him up then pussied out.

He swallowed a large mouthful again, then groaned. "Ah, fuck, brain-freeze. "

He reached up and pushed his thumb against the roof of his mouth to try and lessen it.

"Ho hy in't you hih ee yen?" He asked.

I raised my eyebrows. "What?"

He took his thumb out. "So why didn't you hit me then? You felt bad, didn't you?"

I cleared my throat. He really was very forward. "Man, I guess so. I don't - I don't know. "

He looked at me for a long moment. "Sure. " He said.

I frowned. "What d'you mean, "sure"?"

He drank another mouthful of melted ice-cream and milk and whatever shit they put in those. How did this guy eat like this and not get fat?

"I think - " He paused, drawing himself up. "You, sir, have another reason for not beating me up. You prolly got shit going on in your life as well - I won't pry, but there's more to this. "

I looked down at the greasy table and shrugged. "Sure. " I said, using his own words back to him.

He laughed, and I flicked my eyes up to his, grinning.

We sat in silence for a while.

"So what d'you do for fun, butter cup? " He asked.

My eyebrows went straight up. "What'd you call me?"

"Butter cup. " He looked straight at me, eyes wide with slightly in challenge. "Cos you're so blonde. What d'you for fun? Do you have any hobbies besides beating up gays?"

My mouth dropped open and I leaned back.

He didn't blink.

I huffed a laugh. "Ok, Scabbers. "

It was his turn to glare. "What did you just say? "

"Scabbers. Cos you're so short. Like that rat in those Harry Potter books. "

He cocked his head. "So the butter cup does read after all. C'mon, what do you do? "

I rolled my eyes, then sighed. "Uh, I play video games and shit. I smoke. And drink. Um, that's it - oh wait, I also play football. "

He scoffed. "You don't play football, butter cup. You ride motorbikes and shit. "

I had never had anyone talk to me like this before - apart from Ryan, who made fun of me - or Denver, who just told me to fuck off. If it was anyone else I'd be throwing punches by now. I guess I had already tried that with Duncan. Also, I had a feeling this was just the way he was - he wasn't trying to provoke me. Or maybe he didn't care if he did.

I laughed. "Actually, I do play football. I used to play years ago, and my dad is friends with Coach. What d'you do? "

He stared at me for a while, like he was looking through me, then sighed. "Not much. I used to play football too. But it's pretty hard to play when your whole team hates you for liking dicks. " He focused on me. "I do like dicks, by the way. You asked me earlier. "

He was just surprise after surprise, this dude. I nodded uncomfortably. "Uh, good to know. "

We sat silently for a bit.

"Were you any good? " I asked.

He nodded, looking down. "Yeah. I'm fast as. And I'm strong. " He pulled his sleeve up and flexed. "I'm not actually that much shorter than you. Just a bit. "

He did seem to have some definition in his shoulders and back. He wasn't broad, but he was wiry.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. "If you're strong, why don't you... y'know. Hit back?"

He didn't look at me. "There's more of you guys. And you keep coming. "

We were silent again.

"Well, I'm not one of those "you guys". Not anymore. Ok? I...um. I promise. " I said, feeling dumb.

He was still for a moment, then nodded. The silence stretched. Then Duncan stood up.

"C'mon. " He said. "I want fries. "

------

After Duncan left, I sat outside on my bike for a while under the streetlights. It was cold - my breath all misty and shit.

I thought about this kid. This spunky, messy-haired, freckled, gay kid who wasn't that different from me, or from the guys who were my friends, but was beat up all the time for it.

I had being going to beat him up.

If he had wanted to fight me, he could've been a challenge. He really wasn't that much shorter than me, and I was tall. He was stocky, and had a bit of muscle to him. As much as I did, really.

But he hadn't fought back. He had just given up.

My knee bounced as I thought.

I had thought gay people would act different to me. I thought they would think different to me.

I pulled out my phone. It was bright against the darkness.

I scrolled till I found Coach's number, then dialled. He picked up after a few rings.

"Hey, Wilson! Good run, son?"

"Yeah, it was good, thanks, Sir. I was calling to ask...D'you know Duncan?"

"Duncan who, son?"

"Duncan Eider. He's short, but he's fast and strong and used to play football. D'you think maybe... " I trailed off.

Coach was silent for a moment. "You want him on the team?"

"Yeah. "

"Look, son, the season's about to start - "

"Yeah, it's about to start, meaning it hasn't started yet. "

Coach laughed - those were the exact words he had said when Denver had complained about me being on the team.

"Look, Wilson. We're even closer to the start of the season than we were when you joined, and you've been training now - I bet he hasn't. Also, how could the son of the Big Bad Wilson not be good at football? "

I rolled my eyes. That was all Coach ever said about my father.

We were silent for a few moments, then Coach sighed. "I'm sorry about your father, Wilson. It's a shame about  - uh, a shame that he stopped playing. My senior men's team - we just went to Regionals and placed fourth. He could have taken us further. "

I winced, knowing what he had been going to say.

"I know this year's been tough for you. I've seen you in the mornings, coming into the bathroom."

I froze.

"And I know you'd would never ask for something like this unless you really thought it was important - you're a good guy under all that bullshit. But even so, you'd never usually help a lad out like this unless you yourself got something out of it. So - why don't you ask him to come to practice tomorrow. We'll check him out, ok?"

I was silent for a moment, then nodded even though he couldn't see me.

"And Wilson - if you ever need a place to stay - you know my number, son. Mrs Coach and I would be happy to have you."

I looked down, fiddled with the zip on my jacket, then looked up at the bright lights of the McDonald's place. The light from the street lamps showed little particles of water in the air, swirling. Ambicton's mist was moving in. I looked up, and breathed in.

"Thanks, Coach. "

-----

DISCLAIMER:

I have already said this guys, but I'm going to say it again because every time I write stuff about it I feel bad. When any of the characters say homophobic things or stereotype gay people, it is because it is important to the story I am telling. It is not because I want to reinforce these bad things in our society. I don't mean to hurt anyone.

thanks for 3k ❤️