Chapter Seventeen
“In here,” Elliot whispered from inside the bathroom stall when he heard the door open.
Damon snuck into the stall and huddled up to Elliot. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, pulled the flask out of his chest pocket, undid the cap, and handed it over.
Elliot blushed again, thinking about how he’d thought Damon had meant he wanted Elliot to help get him out of his suit.
Which Elliot would have gladly done.
He cringed, taking two terrible swallows of vodka before handing the flask back over, wishing the burn of the alcohol would burn the image of getting Damon naked from his mind.
Damon bounced on his feet, chugged the vodka, and gagged.
“Shh!” Elliot said, laughing at his disgusted face.
“It’s terrible.”
“You keep making noises and someone will catch us.”
“We’re fine.” He took another swig before tucking the flask away. “Achek. This better do the job.”
“One can hope.”
“One can hope,” Damon mocked in a stupid voice. “Who says that?”
“Shut up.” Elliot shoved him, and Damon grabbed a handful of his shirt, pulling him in close to ruffle his hair.
Except, it didn’t feel like the normal chaotic messing around.
Damon’s hand lingered at the back of his head, almost like a caress.
Elliot could have sworn Damon’s eyes went to his lips for a split second, but as Damon’s touch disappeared, he realized he was just seeing things that weren’t there.
“Are you and Madison going to dance?” Damon asked, releasing his grip on Elliot’s shirt.
“Only if she drags me out there. And only a slow dance.”
“Same.” He pulled the flask back out and jiggled it. “One more for the road?”
“Yeah.” Elliot drank a little more and watched as Damon did the same.
“You leave first,” Damon said.
Elliot slipped out of the stall, just as Benjamin walked in.
Elliot froze.
Benjamin’s brows furrowed. His gaze went from Elliot to the obviously occupied stall he’d walked out of.
“Whatcha doing, Elliot?” Benjamin’s grin was a little too wide.
“Nothing,” he squeaked. His pulse raced, pushing magic through his veins and making him lightheaded.
Elliot knew exactly what Benjamin was thinking.
He was thinking that Elliot’s red face and messy hair and disheveled shirt looked a lot like how he did after he gave Benjamin head in the backseat of his car.
Elliot smoothed down his hair as Damon opened the stall door.
His eyes narrowed slightly, and then he sighed and rolled his eyes. “Well, come on, Kidnak!” he said. “I’ll let you have some to keep your mouth shut, but hurry up before I have to share the flask with the rest of the senior class.”
Benjamin blinked, and his face cleared. “Oh. Sure. Yeah. Okay.” He went into the stall.
Damon waved a dismissive hand at Elliot. “I’ll be out in a second.”
Elliot nodded and swung open the door, about to walk out, when Benjamin said, “You know, honestly Montré, I thought maybe Elliot was sucking you off in here.” His cruel laugh echoed through the room.
Elliot’s hand slipped from the handle. The door clapped shut.
“What?” Damon’s voice was deadly quiet.
Elliot held his breath. He couldn’t get his legs to move.
There was the sound of gulping and a shivering disgusted noise. “It’s no big deal,” Benjamin said. “I always assumed something weird was going on between you two.”
Maybe Benjamin was already drunk.
“Why would you care? Do you like Elliot?” Damon asked.
Benjamin huffed a breath. “I like his mouth on my dick if that’s what you mean.”
Shoes scuffled across the tiled floor, and the stall rattled as if a body had been pushed against it.
“Listen, here, Ben. You’re not going to touch Elliot again. You won’t even look at him. If I see you come near him, I’ll fucking knock your lights out. Understand?”
“Jesus! Calm down, man. I hear you! He’s all yours.”
Elliot’s hands were shaking, but he found the wherewithal to open the door again. He strode back into the gym and walked toward the punch bowl to get a drink.
His throat was dry because he’d taken several shots of cheap vodka and not for any other reason. Not because Damon was being all possessive over him.
He’s my best friend, and Benjamin was being a dick. He was just standing up for me.
Small hands wrapped around his arm. “Come dance!” Madison said.
He started to refuse, but the song slowed down, and she gave him a little pout. “Please?”
The bathroom door opened, and Benjamin staggered out. Damon was nowhere to be seen.
“Yeah, okay.”
Madison pulled him onto the dance floor, and they swayed together with his hands on her waist and hers around his neck.
Elliot forced himself to wait until the second chorus of the song before he searched for Damon.
He was wrapped up in Chelsea’s arms, staring down at her with a smile. She must have said something to make him laugh because his chest was shaking.
Madison followed his gaze. “Do you want to dance with him?”
“What? No. No. I’m dancing with you.”
She shrugged. “Okay.”
There was one more slow song before Madison was back dancing with Chelsea and the other girls. Elliot disentangled himself from the group, and Damon grabbed his arm as he was walking away. “Wanna play mini golf?”
“Yeah,” he said, relieved to have a good excuse to get off the dance floor.
The cafeteria beside the gym was set up with games. It was mostly full of guys who weren’t being forced by their dates to dance.
“Winner gets to finish the flask?” Damon said as they each grabbed a putter and balls.
Elliot wrinkled his nose. “I forfeit.”
Damon laughed. “Okay. Loser has to finish the flask.”
He grinned. “You’re on.”
While Damon set up at the first hole, Elliot asked as casually as possible, “So what did Benjamin say? It seemed like you guys were in there a long time.”
Yes, he was being shady.
No, he didn’t care.
Damon’s ball didn’t make it all the way to the hole. He shrugged. “Not much. He drank some of the vodka, but he won’t rat us out or anything.” Damon winked at him. “Your flawless school record is still intact.”
Elliot ducked his head to hide his blush and focused on setting up his swing. His ball sailed past Damon’s but didn’t go in.
As Damon set up his next swing, Elliot nonchalantly looked around the room. “So he didn’t say anything about me? I thought I heard him say my name as I left?”
Damon missed his ball entirely. His putter didn’t even make contact.
“What’d you hear?” he said, adjusting his grip.
Elliot let him fidget. “Nothing. Just thought I heard my name.”
“Oh, well, he didn’t say anything about you.”
Elliot nodded. He didn’t even care that Damon was lying to him. It was sweet that he was trying to protect his feelings.
They moved on to the next hole.
“Did you—Do you like him or something?” Damon asked, pressing his tongue into his upper lip.
Elliot shook his head, not bothering to play dumb. “We’ve messed around, but it didn’t mean anything. I don’t like him that way.”
Damon exhaled. “Good. Yeah, he’s a dick.”
“Yeah.”
Damon test swung his putter a few times, his intense focus on his ball. “So do you like anyone you’ve messed around with?”
Just you.
“Nothing, like, serious,” he said. “No more serious than you and Chelsea.”
“Right.” Damon swung, but the ball went way off course. Elliot catalogued his every movement, hoping Damon would confirm what Elliot had suggested: that he didn’t want anything serious with Chelsea.
Or correct him that he did want to get serious with Chelsea, and Elliot could squash the delusional hope blooming in his chest that what they did last night meant anything.
He didn’t give Elliot any inclination of his thoughts, and Damon’s teammates interrupted their game and recruited them to their skee ball tournament before Elliot could figure out how to interpret his nonanswer.
Elliot volunteered to finish the rest of their flask. He snuck it into the bathroom, alone this time. As he downed the vodka, he forced himself to stop obsessing. He was just going to enjoy the rest of prom with his best friend.
With the alcohol in his system, Elliot managed to relax around Damon’s teammates. He was pretty sure he was only like fifty percent as awkward as usual.
It was a quarter till midnight when Madison and Chelsea dragged Elliot and Damon back into the gym to dance.
Elliot sucked it up because Madison had been an easy-going date and didn’t expect much out of him. Even Chelsea, other than her pictures, hadn’t been demanding of Damon’s time. Overall, prom went well. He got to spend most of it with Damon, which was the whole point anyway.
He tried his best to keep his attention on Madison, not letting his eyes wander, but the song was only a minute in when Chelsea said, “Oh, my strap!”
She bent down and held her ankle. “My strap broke. Madison, can you help me?”
“I can help you,” Damon said, bending forward.
“No, you stay here,” Chelsea said. “I’ll be right back. Don’t let the cheerleaders encroach. This is the prime dancing spot.”
Elliot scrunched up his face. Prime dancing spot?
Madison tugged Elliot to Damon and put his hand on Damon’s shoulder. “You two dance together. We’ll be right back.”
Damon opened his mouth. A protesting noise that wasn’t fully formed words escaped, but it didn’t matter because Madison was helping a hopping Chelsea off the dance floor.
Elliot glanced around. The cheerleaders were eyeing them. So maybe there was such a thing as a prime dancing spot?
Damon sighed, and as Elliot was about to pull away—because they could hold the spot without dancing—Damon’s hands scooped around Elliot’s hips and pulled him in.
“Well, we can’t lose their spot, right?”
“Right,” Elliot said, breathless. His hands slid up Damon’s arms and held the back of his neck.
They swayed together, but it was entirely different from dancing with Madison.
Elliot wasn’t as awkward and mechanical anymore. His body melted under Damon’s touch. They were dancing much closer to one another than either of them had with Madison or Chelsea. The space between their bodies, electric. Charged with something vibrant. Magic created between the two of them.
“This is kinda nice,” Damon said; his eyes hadn’t left Elliot’s.
Elliot nodded, his throat too tight to speak. His brain chose that moment to remind him that Damon had said he was beautiful. That he purposefully hurt himself just to get Elliot to use his magic on him.
“It’s much better than dancing with Chelsea,” Damon said.
“Yeah?” he croaked.
“Yeah, she’s too short. You’re…” His eyes wandered over his face. “You’re perfect.”
You’re perfect.
You’re beautiful.
Elliot’s heart clenched, sharp shooting pains emanating from his chest and the center of his magic in his core.
The air thickened. The gym became too stuffy. A sickening dread filled his gut.
He couldn’t do this.
Couldn’t sway around with his best friend as some stupid, cheesy romantic song played in the background. Couldn’t look into his eyes as he told him he was perfect.
He couldn’t shove down the truth anymore. It was going to bubble to the surface. It’d been building for years. This crush that had started as an inconvenience and had evolved into a full-blown crisis.
He was in love with Damon. So in love with him it hurt not to tell him. It ached.
“I can’t do this,” Elliot said.
And he ran.