Chapter 10
TEN
Something in the Orange - Zach Bryan
17 YEARS OLD
“Get the fuck off me.” Greyson shoves me, almost making me fall off the edge of my twin bed.
“Make me.” I laugh, scrambling to keep the sandwiches I brought on the paper plate.
“There’s no room for your fat ass.” Greyson groans when I squeeze in next to him. I’ve filled out with muscle a little more than he has, and he likes to remind me of it every time he can.
“Keep it up, and this fat ass will sit on you till you beg for mercy.”
“Jesus.” He grabs the sandwich and continues playing the game. I made it just how I know he likes it, with stone ground mustard and Lays potato chips. Greyson says the pretzels inside are gross. He’s ridiculous.
Greyson and I have become fast friends since summer. He goes to a different school, but we still hang out every day after school and during weekends. He spends more time here than he does at his real house. I’ve still never been there, and he doesn’t tell me much other than his dad isn’t around and his grandpa’s a piece of shit. I worry about him, but ever since I met him, he seems happier. His skin looks more glowy, and he laughs.
Christ, his laugh. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. That and his voice. His voice is mesmerizing. He rarely sings for me. He acts embarrassed, but there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. If I could listen to only one person for the rest of my life, it would be Greyson Sinclair.
I find myself staring at Greyson as he plays the game on the edge of my bed. He’s wearing the Life’s Good ball cap I got us. I’ve become obsessed with their clothing, calling it our clothing since it has our initials: LG. Greyson says it’s corny, but still, he wears it. Just like I wear mine.
Greyson also wears one of my silver rings. I wear a bunch, mostly silver and mostly odd rings I’ve found thrifting or on artsy websites. Greyson said it was gay, but I told him how hot it would look on his long, guitar-playing fingers. Eventually, he caved. Because it does look fucking amazing on him.
The game gets to a storyline part, and suddenly, Greyson stiffens. I hear the sound of retching coming from the TV, and Greyson bolts for the bathroom.
I jump up, following after him, and get to him just in time to watch him hurl into the toilet. Dropping down beside him, I rub his back and shoulders. He’s white-knuckling the edge of the toilet.
“I’m sorry, man. Christ. I didn’t remember that was in there.” I rub my hands lightly over him and feel him visibly relax into me. Slowly, he lets go of the lid, and his breathing evens out. He drops his head on his arm and lets out a shaky breath.
As soon as he relaxes, he’s usually done. I get up quickly, knowing he always hates to be seen in his weak moments.
“Logan,” he says, and I immediately stop.
“Thanks.” Greyson peeks back at me and smiles.
Suddenly, I feel bashful. I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah, uh…no problem.”
“No, I mean…thanks.” He shakes his head. “I hate this, but, you know…I appreciate you being there.”
Warmth runs through me, and suddenly, my chest feels too small.
Greyson flushes the toilet, washes his hands, and then goes back to the room. We settle back into our routine, him on the game and me on my phone. But secretly, I’m looking at him. Greyson is beautiful, sure, but god, he’s also the coolest person I’ve ever met. He’s so good with music and singing. He’s sassy as hell, but deep down, he’s kind. I know the world hasn’t been kind to him, but he’s still kind to the world, and that, of all things, made me fall fast and hard.
All the feelings hit me at once, and my mouth suddenly goes dry. “Greyson.”
“Hmmm?” He keeps playing.
My palms are sweaty, and I have to put the plate down. He and I have been dancing around this tension for months. Neither of us has made a move, and it’s killing me. I just want him to know…how I feel.
“Greyson,” I say, softer.
“What?” He turns, grabbing the sandwich and taking a bite. Then he meets my gaze, and slowly, his chewing stops.
I laugh nervously. “Summer’s almost here.”
He swallows his bite and lifts an eyebrow. “...Yes?”
“Well, I don’t know…I talked to my moms, and I think…you should stay here.”
He frowns. “What do you mean? I already stay here.” He turns slightly to keep playing, and I put my hand on the controller. Sparks fly where our hands touch.
“I mean…long term. I think you should move in.”
Greyson stares at me. “What?”
I rub the back of my neck, all my feelings going everywhere. Don’t be a coward, Logan . Say it. “I…I like you, Greyson. Like, a lot.”
Silence. Greyson’s pupils are huge, and he blinks once.
I’m screwed now, so I keep going. “You’re kinda, like, really fucking amazing. And I want you here with me.” I want you safe . But I don’t say that. He’ll run if I say that.
Greyson laughs half-heartedly. “Sick joke, dude.”
I wince. “It’s not a joke.”
I watch Greyson wrestle. I know he feels the same way. I’ve seen it in his body language. In the way he laughs at everything I say. The way he takes every chance to touch me. The way his pupils widen and how he blushes when he looks at me. The way he gets hard when he lays next to me.
“This isn’t…” He clears his throat. “I can’t…I’m not gay.” The word stretches painfully into the silence. Despite the fact I know it’s not true, my heart clenches.
Greyson’s breathing picks up. “I’m not fucking gay, man.” He stands off the bed, knocking the controller to the ground with a clatter.
“Wait, Greyson.” I try to get up, but he’s already darting to the door. He looks panicked, like he just saw a ghost.
“Please.” I reach for him.
“I can’t!” Greyson’s voice is high, panicked. “I can’t, Logan, I can’t.” He looks around like someone is watching us. “I’m not gay.”
“Greyson.” I take a step closer.
He turns his gaze on me, and it’s full of tears. He whispers, “I can’t.” Then, he darts out of the room.
“Greyson!” I chase after him, but this time he’s fast. He’s out the front door and into his car before I can catch him. Then, he’s peeling out of the lot. I run after him, then turn around and dart back inside for my keys. I realize that I don’t actually know where he lives. I call him, call after call after call. He doesn’t pick up. In fact, he blocks me.
I never saw Greyson after that night. Never heard from him. I was stuck in my heartbreak, alone and terrified. I was scared of what made Greyson run like that. Scared for him. And then I became angry. I figured out where he lived, then pounded on his door. It was answered by an old man who cussed me out, threatened to call the cops, and then slammed the door in my face.
I tried everything I could to get back into Greyson’s life. I left notes under the door, apologizing for what I said. Begging us to go back to normal.
Nothing.
That just made me more angry. So, for a week, I stopped trying. I stopped going over. Stopped leaving notes. Stopped calling the blocked number.
And then, the worst day of my life started.
I got a letter in the mailbox. It wasn’t stamped, so someone dropped it off themselves. It just said ‘Logan’ on the outside. I open it with shaking hands. Inside was some hand-drawn sheet music and a note.
I found out later that Greyson killed himself. Hung himself from the rafters in his room. Also found out that before he died, he vomited. And I wasn’t there to rub his back. It was all my fault. I stopped talking to him, and he thought I gave up.
The good part of my soul died that night.