Chapter 11 Nathan
NATHAN
The frat house was quiet when I got home last night. I was still in a daze as I let myself in and walked up the stairs to the shower. Peeling my damp clothes off my body. Remembering Evan hovering over me, making me feel good.
When I climbed into bed, I thought about all the other stuff too, like how Evan said he’d been with men, a lot of men. In the moment, it excited me, because it meant he might want to be with me. That he might not be as out of reach as I’d always thought.
But lying there in bed, replaying his words, the jealousy surfaces. Thinking about Evan touching all those other men the way he touched me. Them touching him. Probably making him feel better than I ever could.
His words came back—because it feels good.
Could I ever make him feel the way those men have?
Everyone’s up when I come downstairs, Ben manning the blender as usual. Priestley’s at the coffee machine, drinking an espresso with his hair perfectly coiffed and the collar popped on his polo, looking like he’s been up for hours.
He raises an eyebrow at my appearance. I’m still wearing the ratty t-shirt and shorts I slept in last night. When I run a hand through my hair, it’s a mess and I can smell myself.
“Late night, Carter?” Priestley asks.
Ben flashes me a look I can’t read, but I’m sure he looks sad. Did something happen while I was away last night?
I ignore Priestley, taking a glass of green goop from the counter and forcing some down.
“Gah, what’s in this?”
Ben takes a beat before replying. “Celery, kale, coconut water….”
I don’t need to hear another word. I leave the glass on the counter and open the fridge, looking for something edible.
Priestley eyes me suspiciously as I reach for some cold pizza. “Don’t you understand that we’re supposed to be in the best shape of our lives right now? Regionals are only a few months away-”
“I know, don’t worry. I’m in good shape.”
His eyes scan my body in my sleep clothes and I feel exposed, like the dude has x-ray vision or something. I resist the urge to cover up.
Priestley somehow manages to ‘encourage’ me to gulp down one of Ben’s disgusting ‘smoothies’ before we leave for practice.
I still feel a little sick when we get to the locker room and start changing into our tennis clothes.
Even after four years of private school, the second I stepped into this room, I felt like an intruder. Like someone—someone like Priestley Rosenthal—was going to see me and point me out as the imposter.
But it never happened. I’m still here. These crisp, navy tennis clothes with the logo of an Ivy League college belong to me. That’s my name on my cubby. My Wilson rackets neatly lined up. My custom tennis shoes. At some point, I stopped being intimidated.
I’m smiling to myself at the memory of last night when I catch Ben watching me. He’s biting the inside of his lip like he does sometimes when he’s nervous or something’s bothering him. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when Coach comes in and asks us if we’re ready.
We get out onto the courts. Do our warmups.
Everyone is super focused and Coach keeps reminding us about regionals.
How important they are. What an incredible opportunity it is to be seen by pro coaches and trainers.
People who can help us break into the ATP.
I let this go over my head. I’ll never break into the ATP, but I do want to take us to regionals and make our coaches proud.
After practice, I make a beeline for Ben and ask him to study with me at the library.
I need to get him alone and find out what’s wrong.
If it’s Priestley, I’m going to have to put my big boy pants on and talk to him as his VP, tell him that bullying is not acceptable.
That his leadership style doesn’t work with everyone.
It’ll be good practice for the real world—as Bryce keeps reminding me.
When I’ll have to deal with all kinds of personalities.
We find a table in a reasonably quiet spot in the library and Ben starts taking his books out of his bag.
“Hey, Ben, can I ask you something?”
He looks up, his eyes all big and worried.
Ben has such a babyface, it’s easy to forget he’s my age and can probably take care of himself.
Something about him just brings out that protective instinct in me.
One I’ve never actually been much good with, seeing as there was always someone to look out for me—like my mom, or Evan’s parents, or Bryce, or Evan himself.
“Is everything okay with you? You seem … a little down. Did Priestley do something when I was out last night?”
He frowns, looking confused. Either I’m completely off-base or he’s a really good actor. I don’t think it’s the latter. He flushes before looking down and making a big fuss getting his laptop out of his backpack.
“Ben, what is it?”
He drags his teeth over his bottom lip and my stomach does summersaults as I wait for him to tell me what’s wrong.
“Were you out with that guy last night?”
Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. Is he mad about me seeing Evan?
“Yeah, why?”
He swallows, looks down, shakes his head. “Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”
He takes his laptop out and opens it on the desk.
“Ben, do you have a problem with me being bi?”
“What? No, of course not.” His face heats up.
“Tell me, what is it? I’m not letting it drop until you tell me.”
“It’s just … I wish you would have told me earlier, about being bi.”
I frown. “What difference does it make? I wasn’t even sure I was … ” my stomach drops. “Why? Would you have not been my friend if you’d known I’m not straight?”
“What?” His voice comes out strangled. “Of course not, I’m not a homophobe, Nate. Jesus.”
Now I flush. “So what then?”
He takes a deep breath. “It’s because … it might have been easier to talk to you about … well … I’m, I think … No, I know I’m gay.”
I blink. Am I really so clueless and self-involved that I missed the fact that two of my best friends are gay?
“Say something.”
“I … well obviously it’s fine. I mean, I support you.” I run a hand over my face. “I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me.”
“I … I didn’t think you were a bigot or anything, I just … needed to figure some things out myself first.”
“So have you been with a guy?”
He shakes his head. “I haven’t been with anyone.”
I try not to react to that the way my instincts want me to. Ben has a babyface, but he’s still adorable. I would have expected him to at least have experience with a girl or two. I’ve definitely seen girls flirting with him at parties. I just thought he was shy. Now it all makes sense.
“Do you want to?”
“Yes, but not right this minute.”
“Why not?”
His face flushes again. “I want to focus on our thing. On our business idea and school and tennis and everything.”
I think about how distracted this thing with Evan has made me. It makes sense. If I was smarter, I’d probably copy Ben—but I know myself well enough to know that I couldn’t stop pursuing Evan now.
“What about you and this guy? Did something happen last night?”
“Yeah. We hooked up a little.”
“Oh.”
Why does he still seem sad?
“You know you can hook up with guys without it being a big thing, right? It doesn’t have to get in the way of school and tennis and our thing?”
“I know. I just don’t want to.”
“Okay.” I want to push, but I drop it for now. The last thing I want to do is make him regret opening up to me.
“So what’s happening with you and Evan now? Are you in a relationship?”
“I don’t know. He’s going through a lot at the minute. I don’t want to rush him. His dad just died and … we’re working through things. A lot of shit happened in the past, a lot of shit I didn’t even know about.”
“You mean all the stuff with Bryce?”
I nod.
“Are you going to speak to Bryce about it?”
My stomach churns at the thought of trying to call my stepdad out.
I’ve never done anything like that before.
I’ve never wanted to cause any more trouble than I already have for my mom.
“It’s in the past. And I’m pissed at him, sure.
But I imagine he was just doing what he thought was best for me. He didn’t even know Evan.”
Talking to Ben has made me want answers. I meant what I said back at the library, I understand that Evan’s going through a hard time, and I’d never want to rush him into anything, but I would like to know that he at least feels the same way I do. That last night wasn’t just a hookup.
I send a text, asking what he’s up to. I don’t get a reply straight away. The more I stare at my phone, the more silent it seems to be.
When I do finally get a reply, it’s short and almost curt.
I’m working tonight.
My heart drops. I want to see him again so bad it’s a physical ache.
I draft my reply three times before finally hitting send.
Ok cool, can I see you after?
Someone knocks on my bedroom door.
“What?” I bark.
The door cracks open as if I’d said come in. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” Priestley asks.
“No, I was just.…”
“Who are you texting? Is it this mystery girl who made you late for practice?”
I keep my mouth shut, not knowing what to say.
My phone buzzes with a reply and I have to stop myself from pouncing on it.
Priestley cocks his head. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
I shake my head.
He laughs. “Why all the secrecy? Is it Mira? Is that it?”
“What? No. Of course it’s not Mira. Mira’s with Mark.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Exactly.”
“No, Mira’s not cheating on Mark. It’s not her.”
“Okay, so why the secrecy? If you really like this girl, why don’t you bring her to the next mixer? We can all meet her.”
“Um.”
“Unless it’s just a hookup?”
I instantly prickle. Evan is not a ‘just a hookup.’ “What if it’s not a girl?”
“What?”
“I said, what if it’s a guy I’m texting?”
He shrugs. “So, you’re telling me you’re gay?”
“Bi.”
“Fine. Why wouldn’t you just tell me that in the first place? Do you think I’m some kind of small-minded bigot?”
I just blink at him before spluttering a reply. “No, I just-”