His Reluctant Savior (The District #3)

2. Chapter 2

As I packed up my car, I got lost in my last memories of Dalton, and how shitty I’d been, along with stealing my first boy kiss from him. God, I’d been such a weird fucking teen, but it hadn’t been entirely my fault.

I didn’t get invited to the party, but as always, I forced myself into places I didn’t belong. While I hide and hate, I also need to be a part of something. It helps fight loneliness and isolation.

No one wants me there because no one likes me, and I don’t like them. I hate kids who have healthy home lives. Those kids never have to wonder if they’ll be woken up in the middle of the night to being touched in places that aren’t allowed to be touched.

It makes me so angry and jealous. I hate them all with their smiles, laughter, and friendships.

Mostly, I crash the party because I know he’ll be there. Everyone likes Dalton Reed—the boy who was voted most likely to succeed and the most likable boy in school. The straight-A student. The fucking Boy Scout. The goodie-goodie asshole. Of course, he’s the fucking superstar football quarterback, and all the girls want him. He’s a goddamn walking, talking cliché.

And I’m obsessed with him.

Even if I torment him, I’m drawn to him like no other.

I chug back whatever whiskey shit this is, watching him flirt with a girl. But he doesn’t like girls. I can tell. It’s all an act. He’s been playing pretend throughout high school. When the blonde girl he’s talking to and flirting with looks away, his smile drops. He’s tentative when he reaches to touch her arm, but he won’t pull her close to him like the other guys do with the girls they’re talking to, always pushing them for a kiss.

There’s a little crack in Dalton’s perfect walls, and I’m the only one who notices. Those closest to him are completely blinded by his shining light. But I see right through him.

He likes boys.

I smile inwardly, knowing his little secret. God forbid he couldn’t have anyone knowing and dimming his sunshine.

Because of my home life, I’ve become hyper-aware of my surroundings, ever watchful of people, trusting no one, so it isn’t hard to see through his walls. It helps because I’m gay, too, though I keep that knowledge as close to me as he holds his. That kind of detail, if discovered by my family, could get me killed, not that my abuser gives a fuck, since he routinely takes advantage of that little fact.

Dalton’s long dark brown bangs fall in his face, hiding the truth in his dark brown eyes, filled with innocence—innocence I strangely want to corrupt right out of him. Those are eyes that have never suffered. He has full lips and a classic all-American face. One look at Dalton, and you know he’s the football star and the most popular guy in school.

And he’s my complete opposite.

What pisses me off even more is the realization that I’m just like the very people I fucking hate. I want Dalton Reed as much as anyone else in the school. But if I corrupt him just a little, maybe he’d like me back.

He suddenly notices me out of all the fifty or so kids at the party. Even though I’m tucked away, it’s like he senses me instead of seeing me. My body thrums with some weird electricity at his attention, as if his eyes actually touched me. It doesn’t matter if it’s negative attention, judging by his scowl, because it’s still attention. Let’s just say I haven’t been the kindest to him.

I swallow down the rest of the nasty whiskey, never taking my eyes off Dalton. I want more to drink, but I don’t move, not wanting to break this spell we’re under, and I’m more than curious to see if he severs it first.

He looks away when that same girl tries to get more of his attention. He smiles briefly before he looks up at me again, but by then, I’m bored, so I saunter off toward the kitchen to find something better to drink .

When I find myself some expensive tequila, someone calls out to me.

“The fuck you doin’ here, Virgil?” says the second-string quarterback, who could never hold a candle to Dalton’s ability. He stands next to two of the linebackers on the team, Dumb and Dumber. I’m big myself, so they don’t intimidate me.

“Drinking,” I say flatly.

“No one invited your ass.”

“How do you know?”

That stops him for a second since he’s already drunk.

“Who?” he demands.

“Does it matter? I was invited. Get over it.”

It’s not like we got printed invitations, for fuck’s sake.

I walk off with the tequila bottle before someone grabs my shoulder. On instinct, I grab his hand and twist my body as I twist his by bending the hand at the wrist, dropping one of the linebackers onto his knees. He cries out as I bend it harder.

“Don’t ever fucking touch me.”

There’s only one person allowed to touch me, and he never would because he loathes me.

I glance around the room to make sure no one comes at me before I release him. He falls on his knees, cradling his hand as he glares at me.

I point at him. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again,” I repeat to make my point crystal clear.

When I’m sure no one’s going to attack me, I walk off in search of something more interesting.

Dalton Reed.

I can’t find him anywhere downstairs, and it makes my stomach twist in knots. There’s only one other place he would go besides the bathroom, and that’s to a bedroom with that fucking girl, who’s also gone.

Over my dead body.

Before, I was jealous of who he was. Now I’m jealous because he’s with that girl. He doesn’t belong with her. And he doesn’t belong with boys. He belongs to me.

I meander up the stairs more calmly than my heart and stomach were. It’s one thing to see Dalton pretend to flirt over the years. It’s another that he plans to go through with this bullshit.

There are four bedrooms upstairs, and all the doors are shut. I try turning the knob on the first one, but it’s locked. The last three doors are unlocked with various couples making out, but no Dalton. I walk back to the first locked door, kick it open, step inside, and shut it behind me.

The girl bolts upright, looking terrified for a moment before she gets pissed at seeing me.

“Fucking Virgil! Get out!” she screams.

I take a swig from the tequila bottle before setting it down on the dresser and point at her, “You. Get out. Now.” My voice is calm, but it radiates danger. Her eyes grow wide as she gathers her shirt on the bed and tosses it over her bra.

I inwardly scoff that Dalton doesn’t stop her as she leaves and slams the door behind her. Then I smirk as he sighs in relief.

Look at me, saving Dalton from being forced to fuck a girl.

Just when I think he’s a nice boy who’s a pushover, he suddenly lunges at me, and we tumble to the floor. His fist clocks the left side of my jaw, and I see blackness for a second. He comes in with another fist before I catch his hand and roll him over onto his back.

“What the fuck, Virgil! You have no right to be here!” he yells.

“You don’t like girls,” I hiss, pressing my aching face close to his. He smells too fucking good, like something fresh and clean, mixed with beer. But the hint of girl perfume makes me want to toss him into the shower and wash it all off.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re such a psychopath! I’m allowed to be with a girl.”

He struggles underneath me, but while he’s fit, so am I. I’m also bigger and have leverage with his arms pinned down.

“But you like boys.”

He freezes with wide and dark eyes. “W-what?”

I hate Dalton, so finding him with a girl and my wanting to claim him as mine goes against everything I feel about him. Still… we’re connected. He just doesn’t know it yet.

“You belong to me.”

“You’re fucking nuts!”

He fights me again, and we wrestle once more before I get him pinned down better. I press my lips to his, and, for the first time in my life, I feel almost normal, like this is exactly where I belong. And for a moment, Dalton gives in, too.

The kiss is awkward, sloppy, wet, and hungry. We pull at our hair, claw at our skin, and bite our lips, unsure if we’re fighting this or trying to get more from each other.

My dick is hard as fuck, too. Shit… Such a rare sensation and more proof that he’s mine.

His grows underneath me, too.

I groan as his cock swells under my ass. It must be some wake-up call because Dalton finally gets leverage over me while I’m distracted, and he shoves me off.

I scramble on my hands and knees, ready to lunge at him for more, but he holds out his hand. “Stop! What the hell is going on, Sid?”

His dark eyes are wide and angry and confused. His lips are red and swollen and bleeding a little from where I bit him. I taste him in my mouth, mingling with my own blood from him biting me back, and I want more.

I growl at him. “You can’t have her.”

He scoffs. “But I can have you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you insane? You’ve tormented me for most of my high school years.” He stands, shakes his head, and runs a hand through his wrecked hair, which I now know is silky. “Jesus and I just kissed you back. I must be nuts myself.”

Then a calmness settles over him, and he folds his arms over his chest. “Why now? Why have you been such a prick if you like me so much?”

I close my eyes and growl at myself as everything becomes clear. Because I’ve always wanted him, but I also hate it. I don’t want it to be him—Mr. Perfect. Dalton is everything I’m not. His body is pristine, and mine’s been corrupted.

His intelligent eyes blink clear with knowing. “Have you… always liked me?”

“No!” I growled again. “Yes!”

“God, it all makes sense now… sort of. Not really. It’s fucking weird, Sid.”

“Kiss me again,” I demand. I don’t care how weird I am. I fucking need more.

His grin turns crooked as he gets the upper hand with me, discovering my weakness. “Ask me nicely.”

“Please,” I say, not hesitating for a second, my pride going right out the window because my obsession is so much stronger.

To my surprise, Dalton drops to his knees in front of me, also still on my knees, cups my face, and pulls me into a kiss. This one is softer, kinder, and more than I deserve, but I take it greedily.

I fist his hair, needing the soft strands between my fingers, pulling us into a deeper kiss, desperate for more, but he tugs my hands off him and pulls away too soon. I’m fucking starving for him. We couldn’t stop now.

But of course, Mr. Perfect is too smart and knowing, even at eighteen, and ruins it all. “Are you having a hard time at home, Sid? Why this hatred for me, and now you want to kiss me? What’s going on here?”

I quickly withdraw inwardly and stand, cupping my swollen junk, dying for release, but I say nothing.

He stands with me and cups my face again, looking at me with more patience than I want or deserve. I glance away, unable to stare into his eyes that can see through me. “Change your ways, and maybe I’ll give you a chance for more. But I don’t date bullies, Virgil. Get your shit together.”

Dalton drops his hands and walks off.

“You like boys, but will you even date them?”

He stops and looks back at me with an unreadable smile. “For the right one.”

He walks away again, and I don’t stop him.

I can’t stay here any longer, filled with this weird combination of relief and fear. Everything’s changed now. The dynamic between Dalton and me has shifted. I’ve given him too much power over me. No, I relinquished it for a kiss with promises of more.

I don’t want to go home. I hate it there. But I have to.

I’m going to leave soon, counting the days until I graduate. Then my suffering will finally be over.

Getting my first kiss from Dalton had been the first milestone in my life that changed everything. The second happened after I got home from the party. If I’d known it was the last time I would ever see Dalton, I would have done the past several years in school differently.