12. Safe Place
12
Safe Place
I woke to a shrill ringing sound, and I groaned into a pillow that smelled like pot and cinnamon. A thin arm slid away from around my waist. Eli grumbled under his breath as he rolled to his other side, back to me as he buried his head under his blanket. The ringing continued.
Fumbling through my pile of clothes on the floor, I blinked away the thick sleep clinging to my brain as I shoved my hand into the pocket of my jeans. I pulled out my phone and cringed. It was my dad.
“Hello?” I said into the phone.
“Where the hell are you, Silas?” Dad barked, and I winced. “And where is my car?”
“Oh, shit. Dad, I’m sorry. I, uh…” I cinched the phone between my ear and shoulder as I awkwardly yanked my jeans up my legs. “I’ll be home soon. I didn’t—”
“Where are you?” His voice dropped dangerously low, and I swallowed thickly.
There was no way I would admit my location. Dad didn’t like Eli any more than Ben had, and he was already pissed about his car.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. But I’m getting in the car now.” I avoided answering him. “I’ll be home soon. I’m so sorry!”
“You’re grounded. You know that, right?”
I rolled my head from side to side as I sighed. “Yeah, Dad. I know.”
“Get your ass home now!”
“Yes, sir.”
He hung up on me without a goodbye, and I dropped my phone to the mattress with a groan. “Fuck!” I buried my face in my hands and scrubbed the leftover weed buzz from my eyes. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“You in trouble?” Eli asked.
“Yup.” I stood and finished dressing as he stretched like a cat, arching off the bed with a satisfied hum. “I gotta go.”
“M’okay. Drive safe.”
Running a hand through my bedhead, I studied him for a moment. Sleepy lids droopy. A sated smile on his lips. Skin pale against the red sheets where I’d fucked him ruthlessly the night before. Nausea roiled through my gut.
Eli arched an eyebrow. “Like what you see?”
“Last night was a mistake,” I said, and he flinched.
He covered the hurt quickly, his tone bland as he said, “Okay.”
“We can’t do this again.”
“Okay,” he said again.
I ground my teeth. “I’m sorry.”
“Jesus Christ,” he scoffed. “We fucked. It was fun. If you want to fuck again, give me a call. If not, then don’t.” He stood from the bed and cracked his neck. “But take your guilt and self-righteousness somewhere else. I don’t have time for it.”
And with that, he waltzed out of his room. The door to the bathroom slammed shut several seconds later. I stood in his bedroom alone for a full minute as guilt and shame turned my stomach inside out. Then I pulled on my shoes and jogged down the stairs.
Eli’s dad was on the couch watching the morning news. Smoke curled from the cigarette trapped between his index and middle fingers, and I froze at the bottom of the stairs as he glanced over his shoulder, eyes sharp.
I’d only seen him a few times in passing over the months Eli and I fucked around, and every time, he’d been drunk on beer and barely conscious. He wasn’t drunk now. Hungover, maybe? But not drunk.
His thick brows furrowed. “Who the fuck are you?” he growled, voice hoarse from too many years of chain-smoking.
“No one,” I whispered as his eyes narrowed dangerously, and I took a step toward the door. “Just a friend of—”
“Elijah!” he bellowed, and I jumped at the sudden volume. “Get your useless ass down here! Are you fucking boys in this house, you dirty little faggot?”
“Go sleep it off, you drunk hick!” Eli screamed from upstairs, and his dad’s face flushed a horrible shade of maroon.
“How dare you talk to me like that! I’m your goddamn father, you ungrateful shit.” He stumbled to his feet, crazed eyes zeroing in on me like a raging bull. “Get the fuck out of my house.”
I ran to the door before he had a chance to round the end of the couch, and something—an empty bottle?—crashed against the wall near the front door. Eli was yelling again, and I heard his dad shout back, something about how he was nothing but a whore’s botched abortion. His ugly words made me sick, and my hands trembled as I clambered into my dad’s SUV.
Holy shit, Eli’s dad was fucking mental! Why had he never said anything? Sure, we weren’t ever really friends , but—the thought struck me stupid as I idled at a stoplight. Was that why he had always kicked me out of his bed the moment the sex was over?
I’d assumed he was just being an asshole, but maybe it had nothing to do with me at all. Maybe he’d simply been trying to avoid his father’s homophobic rage. No wonder he was always partying, always putting up a middle finger to the world. If my dad was hateful simply because I was gay, I’d take any excuse to leave the house too.
By the time I parked the SUV in my driveway, I felt like utter shit for all the assumptions I’d made. Eli was just trying to survive, same as anyone. And I’d been a self-righteous ass.
A text was waiting on my phone.
Eli: sorry didnt know hed be awake
Silas: It’s fine. Are you okay?
Eli: nothin i cant handle
I stared at my screen, my fingers hovering, unsure how to put my feelings into words. Finally, I settled on:
Silas: If you ever need a place, you know where I live.
Eli didn’t respond for almost a full minute. And then:
Eli: y?
Silas: Because everyone deserves a safe place.
I waited for him to reply, but after two minutes passed without a response, I tucked my phone away and trudged toward the house. Dad was waiting for me, arms crossed over his chest, full brows drawn into a scowl.
“Hey,” I said.
His frown deepened. “Want to tell me what the hell’s going on?”
I kicked off my shoes and hung his keys back up. “Kim called last night. They needed a designated driver. The party at Simonton got crazy, and they were all really drunk. I went to pick them up.”
“They?”
“Yeah, the whole group was there. My truck wouldn’t have fit everyone. That’s why I took your car.”
“You drink?”
“No.” I held his gaze, needing him to believe me. “No, I was just the driver, I swear. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I was going to be back before—”
“Before I knew you were gone?” he interrupted, and my shoulders slumped.
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
A heavy breath whistled through his nose as he glared at the carpet. “Next time, wake me up so I can help.”
“I didn’t want to get them into trouble,” I admitted, and he closed the distance between us and cupped the back of my neck.
“The most important thing to me, to any parent, is that you are safe. All of you.” Dad squeezed my neck just shy of too tight. “Next time, you tell me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is everyone okay?”
I hesitated a split second. “Yeah, I got them all home okay.”
“Okay.” He released my neck. “You’re still grounded.”
Barking a laugh, I nodded. “I deserve it, I suppose.”
“You suppose? I woke up. No son. No car. No note.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I thought something had happened, that that boy had…”
Heat rose in my cheeks. “Boyt hasn’t talked to me in weeks, Dad. He can’t without breaking the restraining order.”
“I’m always going to worry about you,” he said gruffly. “You’re my son. Worrying comes with the territory.”
“Thanks.” I offered a hesitant smile, and he shook his head. “I love you too.”
“I’m not going to unground you,” he said, taking a deep breath to calm himself. His chest stuttered, and he leaned in, sniffing. His eyes narrowed as mine widened in alarm. “Were you smoking grass?”
“No!” I lied through my teeth.
“Silas?”
I grabbed his keys again and fled. “I’m gonna go fill your gas tank and take your car through the car wash. ’K, bye!”
“Silas!”
After school on Monday, Kim and I walked to rehearsal, discussing the latest hiccup in the stage production. “I don’t know how we’re going to build the nest. It has to be stable so Caroline won’t fall off, but light enough that we can wheel it onto the stage. I don’t know what Acker was thinking.”
“You realize we know someone who can help, right?” she said, wincing at my glare. “I’m just saying, Ben worked for his uncle over the summer.”
“No,” I said stiffly. “We’ll find someone else.”
“Silas—”
“Hey, Kim,” a familiar voice called out behind us, and I stumbled over my own feet. “Wait up.”
Turning around, I tightened my grip on the straps of my backpack as Ben jogged toward us. He met my stare for a split second before looking away. His cheeks splotched pink as he focused on Kim.
“Hey, Ben,” she said, gaze darting between us. “What’s up?”
“I was hoping you still had that study guide?” He spoke tentatively, keeping his voice low, like he was trying not to annoy me with the sound.
I scuffed the floor with my shoe as Kim opened her messenger bag and dug around. “Yeah, I have it somewhere. Um, I think I left it in my locker. I’ll be right back. Wait here!”
Before either of us could protest, she was jogging down the hall, leaving us alone in the hallway.
“Kim, get back here,” I screeched, but she was already disappearing around the corner.
I regarded Ben, remaining utterly unmoving. If I pretended to be a statue, maybe he would ignore me. He didn’t. He looked at me with barely veiled yearning, like I was an oasis after he’d been traveling through a desert for weeks. My traitorous stomach flip-flopped.
After the most excruciating silence of my life, he cleared his throat. “I just wanted to say thanks. Ronnie said you got us home after the party. I don’t remember much, but I appreciate it.”
I shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is to me,” he said quietly, avoiding my gaze. “Just… thanks.”
“Sure,” I said, sounding like I was choking on a golf ball.
“Oh, I have something for you.” Ben pulled a shirt and my beanie out of his bag and held them out to me. “I found these in my laundry. Sorry it took so long to get them back to you.”
“It’s fine. Thanks for returning them.” I took the shirt and hat from his grasp and shoved them into my backpack.
“You’re welcome.”
Another awkward silence descended, and I shifted my weight from left to right and back again. I tried not to look at him, but I couldn’t help it. Even though he looked run down and exhausted, he was still beautiful. My heart lurched, and I rubbed at my chest subconsciously.
“How’s Cora and the baby?” he asked, breaking the uncomfortable quiet.
“Uh, good. She’s mad at me again, ’cause I told her she’s getting bigger, which I thought was a compliment for pregnant chicks. I was wrong,” I rambled, fiddling with the zipper on my backpack. “So, then she got all teary because she thought I was calling her fat, which made Will mad. Dad laughed. It was bad.”
Ben laughed, smothering the sound with his hand like he hadn’t meant to let it out. “Why does that not surprise me?”
I snorted, twisting my tragus piercing. “Foot in mouth syndrome is a rather burdensome ailment.”
“Hopefully, they never find a cure,” he teased carefully, and my mutilated heart leapt as his lopsided grin ghosted over his face. “I always found it entertaining.”
“Yeah, ’cause my only purpose in life is to entertain you,” I scoffed, and he chuckled, low and easy. It was the most wonderful sound in the world, and I hated him for teasing me with it.
His perfect lips spread into a wider grin, and I tasted the ghost of spearmint on the back of my tongue. “Well, of course. I’d hate to rob you of your life’s purpose.”
“I hate to break it to you, but I only entertain people I like,” I said, and his smile evaporated.
I grimaced, immediately regretting the flippant words. Where the fuck was Kim?
“Right,” he murmured, running his hand through his hair. “For a second, I forgot you hated me.”
“I don’t hate you, Ben,” I whispered, and he leaned forward just enough I caught a whiff of his Irish Spring soap. “Not all the time, at least.”
His chest rose and fell choppily, and he attempted a smile, his dimple peeking out for a moment. “Well, that’s something then. Isn’t it?”
Swallowing thickly, I opened my mouth but couldn’t force any words out. When had he gotten so close to me? His blue eyes were right there, the waves within roiling like a storm. Oh God, he was so fucking warm.
The back of his hand brushed my knuckles, the barest hint of a touch, and I—
“Found it,” Kim chirped, and Ben and I both jumped at her sudden appearance.
I staggered away from Ben, chest heaving like I’d been running. Ben blinked heavily, as if he was coming out of a fog. Kim grinned like a fiend, and I glowered at her, doing my best to set her aflame with my mind.
Ignoring my death glare, she offered Ben a stack of papers. “It was in my locker.”
Her smirk belied her words, and I growled. “You’re a lying fat mouth who lies,” I seethed through gritted teeth, and she beamed at me.
“You’ll never prove it. Now, be a dear and ask Ben about the nest.” She patted my cheek like the evil woman she was, and I tried to bite her.
She flounced away with an offensive spring in her step. “You’re the devil reincarnated!” I shouted after her, and she cackled. “She has Hell herpes,” I said to anyone who would listen, which was only Ben and two terrified-looking freshmen who scurried past.
“Hell herpes?” Ben asked, that stupidly adorable dimple making a reappearance.
“Yes! They’re a real thing.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so,” I said fiercely, and he smiled unfairly.
“Okay, Si,” he said, and I scowled. “What’s this about a nest?”
With a groan, I glared up at the ceiling. “We have to build a nest for Caroline, and it needs to be stable enough to hold her weight but light enough that we can easily maneuver it onto the stage while she’s on top of it, singing about how difficult her life is being a whore bird and all.”
“Wow.” Ben blinked. “That’s, uh, something. Okay.”
I shrugged. “It’s Seussical . Just gotta roll with it or else you feel like you’re on a bad acid trip.”
“Right.” He bit his bottom lip to hold back a laugh, and I smirked.
“So, maybe you could ask Uncle Henry about it? If he can draw up a plan or something, it would really help. I don’t want Caroline to die on stage.”
“That would be bad,” he said. “I can ask. I’m sure Uncle Henry wouldn’t mind stopping by to help on a set day. And I can finish up whatever he doesn’t get done.” His eyes widened. “I mean, if that’s okay. I don’t mean to intrude or anything. I don’t have to even come if you—”
I should have said no. I should have sent him away. I should have told him to shove his selfless helpfulness up his ass. But instead, I said, “It’s fine, as long as you promise not to paint anything.”
And my God, his smile made me ache. “Unless you need some penises painted because, apparently, I’m good at those.”
I fought to hold back laughter and failed. “We’ll leave any and all penis paintings to you.”
“It would be my honor.” He hiked his bag higher on his shoulder with a chuckle. “I’ll, uh, let you get to rehearsal.”
Yes, leaving was good. I needed to get the hell away from Ben before I threw myself at him and begged him to love me again.
“Right. Rehearsal. Good.” I backed away, unable to sever eye contact as his ocean eyes threatened to consume me.
“Bye, Silas,” he said with a shy smile.
“Bye.” I spun around and jogged toward the stage’s side entrance. I told myself not to glance over my shoulder, but I was an idiot because I looked. He was exactly where I’d left him, and our eyes met.
The weight of all that was left unsaid between us almost crushed me, but I refused to buckle. It didn’t matter because I couldn’t—wouldn’t—forgive him. So why did I want to run back to him and jump into his arms? Why did the loss feel so raw?
You washed your hands of him, remember? my brain reminded me.
Oh, but that tasted like a lie. I wasn’t quite done with that California diver—not by a fucking long shot.