Chapter 8
Keaton
Three Months Later
For the longest time, I’d thought something was wrong with me. It seemed everyone else my age was obsessed with dating. It was all my friends talked about during lunch, but I didn’t feel any of that. Not until recently when I realized it was because not only was I gay but also into my best friend.
I thought my crush was one-sided, but then small signs started popping up. He hung out with the popular kids at school and was always around girls, yet I never saw him go out with anyone, even though plenty of people tried to get his attention.
When he finally admitted he wasn’t into girls, I somehow found the courage to do the one thing I never thought I could do.
I kissed him.
A couple of days later, Rowan came over to hang out while my parents were gone, and that time he kissed me first.
After that, things didn’t return to normal between us, but it didn’t become a serious relationship either. It was something in between—something that only existed in private.
We didn’t see each other every day. He had practices or games, and I had work, along with the occasional suspension from school when people decided to run their mouths about me wearing black nail polish or dressing differently from them.
But whenever Rowan and I had a chance, we were together. Sometimes it was in his room with the lights off and the door locked. Sometimes it was in my car.
We never talked about what it meant. We didn’t call it anything. He never asked if I was his boyfriend, and I never asked if he was mine. Yet every time our mouths touched, it felt like something more than what we said out loud.
I pulled up in front of my house and turned off the engine. The car was older than me and had a dent in the passenger door from when the previous owner sideswiped a mailbox, but it ran, and it was mine.
I sat there with the driver-side window down, letting the cool night air drift through the car, but that was quickly ruined by the shouting coming from my house.
I’d give anything to go a week without my parents fighting, but it seemed to be getting worse lately.
Luckily, I had a job that got me out of the house.
I worked at a pizza place and got paid enough to cover gas and insurance on my car.
I worked until ten on weeknights since my work permit allowed it, which meant I usually got home after my father was passed out. Except tonight, he wasn’t.
A few seconds later, I heard a tap on the passenger side window and saw Rowan standing on the other side.
“You getting out or …?”
I shook my head. “Want to go for a drive?”
He grinned and hopped into my car. As soon as he buckled his seatbelt, I pulled away from the curb.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
Another shout reached my car. “Somewhere quiet.”
“That’s vague.”
“Yet you voluntarily got into my car without knowing the plan.”
He grinned, and I kept driving toward the edge of town where the streetlights grew farther apart and the houses gave way to long open stretches along the river. I finally pulled into a dirt turnout overlooking the water.
Rowan took in the view. “You bring all the boys here?”
“Shut up.” I snorted and killed the engine.
For a moment, neither of us moved. Then Rowan turned to me, and I leaned over the center console to kiss him.
It started slow, just like it usually did. His hand slid into my hair, fingers curling at the back of my head as he pulled me closer. Instantly, my heart started beating faster. Kissing him always gave me a rush of adrenaline and I never wanted to stop.
When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing a little heavier.
He rested his forehead against mine. “You smell like pizza,” he teased.
I tugged at the collar of my work shirt. “I literally work at a pizza place.”
“Still.”
“You’re welcome to stop kissing me and get back on your side of the car.”
“Not happening.”
I chuckled and continued making out with my best friend.
Eventually, the alarm went off on my phone, signaling that we needed to head home if we wanted to make my curfew. I cranked the engine and began the drive back.
As I parked once again on our street, I stared at my house, not sure if enough time had passed for my parents to stop arguing.
He nudged my arm. “You going in?”
“Yeah. I hope they’re done fighting.”
He nodded. “If not, just come on over.”
For the past six years, I thought of his house as my safe space. But recently, I realized it wasn’t the house—it was him.
“Okay.” I moved in to give him another kiss before we went our separate ways.
“Hey,” he said, his hand hovering over the door handle. “You should come to my game tomorrow.”
I blinked. “Your baseball game?”
“Yeah. You’ve never watched me play before.”
“You know sports aren’t really my thing.”
“I know. I just thought it might be fun.”
“Fun for who?”
“For me.” He sat back in his seat and waited. “You don’t have to,” he said when I didn’t reply. “I know it’s not really your scene.”
Sitting in the bleachers surrounded by loud parents and kids from school didn’t sound appealing. But he’d never asked me to go before, and the way he said it made it seem like it would matter to him if I went.
“I’ll think about it,” I conceded.
He smiled like that was good enough, then kissed me one last time.
The next day at school had been the typical mix of boredom and frustration. By the time the last bell rang, all I wanted was to go home and play some video games.
When I got home, I found my mom in the kitchen cleaning. She always cleaned when she was on edge. The counters were already spotless, but she was wiping them down anyway, dragging the cloth across the surface in slow circles, lost in her own world.
She glanced in my direction when she heard me. “Oh, good. You’re home.”
“Yeah,” I said, dropping my backpack on the dining room table.
“I haven’t started dinner yet, but you should probably eat something before you leave for work.”
“I’m not working tonight.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “You’re not?”
“Nope.”
“Oh.” She went back to wiping the counter.
I watched her for a moment. “You know that thing’s already clean, right?”
She paused, then forced a small laugh. “I know. I just like to keep things tidy.”
“That’s not why you’re doing it.”
Her hand froze. “Keaton—”
“Let me guess, he’s going to the bar tonight, and you’re worried about how he’ll act when he gets home.”
She put the rag down. “That’s not fair.”
“But it’s true.”
“Your father works hard.”
“And that gives him the right to be a total asshole all the time?”
“Language,” she reprimanded.
I barked out a laugh. “Seriously, Mom? I’ve had to listen to you two fight for years and say worse things than that, but now you’re gonna complain about me saying ‘asshole’?”
She rubbed her temples as if she had a headache. “Fine. Can you just try to stay out of his way tonight?” Although my mom usually bore the brunt of my dad’s anger, it didn’t take much for me to upset him either. “You know how he gets,” she added.
“So do you.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because it just is.”
I shook my head. “That makes zero sense.”
She picked up the rag again and started wiping the same spot on the counter for the third time. “He’s under a lot of stress,” she murmured.
“So am I,” I argued. “I live here too, after all.”
“That’s rude.”
“Doesn’t make it any less true.” I snatched a soda from the fridge. “I’m going out.”
“Where?”
I exhaled sharply. “Not sure, but I’ll be home by curfew.”
Earlier, I’d decided I wasn’t going to Rowan’s game, but once in my car, I found myself heading toward the high school anyway. Rows of cars filled the parking lot, and I pulled into a spot near the edge. For a moment, I just sat there with my hands on the steering wheel.
What the hell am I doing?
I didn’t like baseball. I didn’t like crowds. And I definitely didn’t want to cross paths with a bunch of Rowan’s teammates and friends who talked shit in the halls. But he’d asked me to come, and apparently that was enough to get me to sit through a game I wasn’t interested in.
I reached into the backseat for my hoodie and pulled it over my head before stepping out of the car.
When I reached the field, the bleachers were half full of students, and parents sat in folding chairs along the fence. I took a seat on the bottom row, giving myself an easy exit if I decided to leave early.
Rowan stood near the dugout with the rest of the team, listening to his coach. His baseball uniform was white with dark blue lettering across the chest. I’d seen him in it before at home after a game, but seeing him wearing it out on the field made it even hotter.
He glanced toward the bleachers, and our eyes met for a split second. His expression shifted to surprise before he caught himself and focused back on the field, but I still noticed the small smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth.
The game began a few minutes later.
He played second base, and the crowd cheered when he turned a double play in the second inning. I tried not to act too impressed, but I probably failed.
About halfway through the game, a group of guys sat down on the bench behind me. I didn’t turn around at first; I just assumed they were more students who came to watch the game.
Then one of them laughed. “Dude, check it out.”
Another voice chimed in. “What?”
“The emo kid from school is here.”
Great.
It wasn’t uncommon for me to get harassed by some of the kids at school. Usually, I ignored the insults and taunts, but sometimes things turned physical. I’d already gotten suspended a few times for fighting, even though I’d only been defending myself.
The last thing I wanted to do was risk getting in trouble again, and having to deal with my parents being pissed, so I rested my elbows on my knees and pretended to be very interested in the game.
“Why the hell is he here?” someone asked.
I clenched my jaw but refused to look back.
“Maybe he likes baseball,” one of them suggested.
That earned a few snickers. “Yeah, right.”