Chapter 20 - Dane
Dane
When Connor shows up to my practice again, I think I’m the luckiest guy in the world.
Maybe he’s not my boyfriend yet, but labels don’t scratch the surface of what Connor and I have.
It sucked having to leave him this morning, but the presentation I had to give in my environmental ethics class had to take priority over morning cuddles.
Someday, every morning will be Connor-cuddle-mornings, and then life will be golden.
When the opportunity presents itself, I ask Coach for a potty break and nod to the cutie in the bleachers to meet me.
My heart flutters at the thought of spending the next five minutes kissing Connor half to death in the equipment closet.
But before I even make it to the locker room, Connor tugs on my arm and pulls me between a wall and a row of overgrown shrubs.
Smirking at his impatience, I hold his hips and draw him close. “I must’ve really made an impression yesterday if you’re coming to spy on me two days in a row.”
“Dane.” He says my name like it’s a full sentence, eyes just as big and panicky as when he showed up yesterday. That’s my puppy. Always worrying about something. “I’m sorry.”
I scoff and press our hips together, hoping to find that I’m not the only one worked up. “Don’t be sorry. I love it when you watch me.”
“I fucked up.” He grips my arms and puts enough inches between us to let the cool breeze through. “You can’t go home, okay? Can you stay with Randy tonight, or with someone else?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I, um…” He takes his damp hands off me and swipes them down his shirt. “I told Thalia about us.”
“What?”
“It just came out. I left my phone behind when I came to your room last night, and I overslept, and Thalia looked at my phone, and she saw these texts, and she thought I was fucking Margot and that that’s where I was all night, and then I—I just blurted it out.
And she was so fucking pissed. I told her it was my fault, but she was so pissed, and I accidentally left your door unlocked, and she went through your whole room, and she threw your PC in the pool, and some other stuff, and Joselyn was there so she knows, and she said to tell you it’s not safe to come home, because—” Connor gasps in a breath and braces a hand on the locker room stucco, his face as pink and shiny as if he’d just sprinted around the block.
“Because I don’t know. Your dad, I guess. ”
No matter how many times I blink, Connor’s words don’t settle any easier inside me.
I look at the ground, thinking fast and processing slow.
“So, you mean…Thalia thought you were messing around with someone she’s never met before, and instead of using that as an excuse to break up with her, you threw me under the bus, and now I can’t go home. And she did what with my PC?”
“Well, I couldn’t—” He licks his lips and hugs himself despite how much he’s sweating. “I told the truth.”
The life leaves my spine, and I slump it against the wall to keep from crumpling over. “What happened to leaving me out of it?”
“I—” His head shakes, fear in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Did you even try, or did you get scared and blame it all on me?”
“No, I didn’t blame you. I—”
“You said my fucking name, Connor. That’s enough. Don’t you get it?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that.” Anger pushes me off the wall, but with no room to pace, my body resorts to trembling.
“I don’t have a second home to run back to like you do.
I don’t have another set of parents who would do anything for me at the drop of a hat.
I don’t have anyone to call to send me spending money when Artie cancels my credit cards.
I don’t have a college fund I can dip into to pay for next semester.
Why couldn’t you have broken up with her for the million other reasons you two should’ve broken up months ago? Why did you have to put it on me?”
“I didn’t.”
“You did, Connor. You did. I’m fucked because of you.”
“Come on.” He rolls his glossy eyes. “Don’t act like you’re not equally at fault for this. You’ve been trying to come between me and Thalia since we first got here. You’ve been trying to fuck me since the day we met. Did you think there wouldn’t be consequences?”
“I know about consequences. My whole life is a consequence. But I trusted you. Even though I knew I’d regret it, I trusted you anyway, and now I’m homeless. So, thanks for the fucking life lesson.”
I shoulder past him, but a firm grip on my forearm tugs me back.
“We can get a place together now,” Connor says, nearly pleading. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”
A place? With what? If Artie cuts me off, I have nothing—just a big fat fucking goose egg and a guy who couldn’t keep one fucking promise.
I steel my jaw and hold my breath to keep the tears from falling. “That’s a fantasy, Connor. Not an excuse to blow up my life.”
When I turn away, he tugs me back. “Dane—”
“I have to get back,” I say toward the shrubs, pulling my arm away.
“Dane, please—”
“I have a match tomorrow!” I swerve back onto the main path, ignoring the looky-loos. Swallowing down my emotions, I run back to practice before Coach realizes I’ve been gone longer than a piss and benches me.
The first thing I do after practice is race home.
It’s only five, which is early for maniacal workaholics, so I’m praying to the universe that Artie isn’t home yet.
Randy agreed to let me crash at his tonight, but there are things I need from my bedroom.
School stuff, soccer stuff, my jersey for tomorrow, and a cash stash I’ve been hoarding for exactly this scenario.
But before I even get my key in the door, it swings open, and my father’s imposing stature fills the doorway.
Business dress with his sleeves rolled up, a Cartier watch on his wrist and a sharp scowl wrinkling his sun-tanned face.
I’ve been the recipient of this man’s scowls more times than I can count, but this one’s different.
This isn’t a do as I say scowl, but a you’re fucking dead to me scowl.
My lungs shudder as I realize I won’t be able to talk my way out of this. There’s no bargaining here. No groveling. What would I even say when I’m not fucking sorry?
Instead of saying anything, I fist my keys, spin around, and dash toward my car. I’d parked it at the curb for a smoother getaway, and I only make it halfway down the drive before the pavement slips out from under me.
My ass hits the ground first, then my shoulder blades, then the back of my head.
The light goes out in my eyes for a split second until a shadow crosses over me, and I see it’s Artie.
One hand snatches a handful of my shirt while the other wrestles the keys out of my hand.
I’m too dazed to put up a meaningful fight.
Once Artie has them, he steps to his feet but stays craned down, leering with that same expression while the fist in my shirt becomes a hand around my throat.
“In my house?” he seethes. “In my house?”
“Let go!” I choke, swinging at him.
He lets go, granting me half a breath before crashing his palm into the side of my face. A hard kick to my side rolls me toward the curb. It’s all the momentum I need to scramble to my feet and run.
“Don’t ever come back!” he shouts as I make it to the sidewalk.
Coughing, aching, sobbing. I don’t quit running until I’m six blocks from the house. Catching my breath on a bus stop bench, I make a pathetic call to Randy asking if he’ll come get me.
It’s hard to endure the pity party when I can’t tell Randy why Artie kicked me out.
Thankfully, Randy doesn’t need an explanation for me to crash on his futon.
But having to pretend like this is just another father-son argument is hellish, especially when I’m constantly on the verge of crying my eyes out all over his Xbox controller.
Between FIFA matches in Randy’s grody studio, I text the only person who might be willing to help make this not the worst day of my life.
An hour later, as Randy’s melatonin is kicking in, my phone buzzes with two optimistic words. I’m here.
It’s nighttime and chilly. I hug my arms on my way through Randy’s complex and out to the front curb where Joss shivers in a halter top beside her silver coup. When she hugs me, I chalk it up to her being cold, but there’s genuine emotion in the I’m sorry she whispers beside my ear.
Joss pops her trunk, and I’ve never been so happy to see my gym bag.
“Your jersey and all that is in there,” she says as I scoop the strap onto my sore shoulder.
“I got your backpack too. I think I saw your wallet in there, but your father already canceled the cards. This bag has some clothes. Hopefully you can make that work.” She hangs the handles of a reusable department store tote onto my arm after I get my backpack onto my even sorer shoulder.
“Artie’s not pissed at you for this, is he?”
Joss swishes a polished hand between us, making her bracelets jingle. “I can handle your father. Your sister, on the other hand…”
“Did she really throw my PC in the pool?”
“Oh, yes.” Joss’s eyes go big like she’s replaying the memory in her mind. “That’s going to be a doozy for the pool boy to fish out. But I’ll be there to supervise.”
“Thanks, Joss.”
“Oh. Here.” With a little jolt, she dips into her purse. “Found this hidden away in your room as well.”
It’s the glitter-pink cigarette case where I’ve been stashing stray hundreds since high school.
The just in case fund. I haven’t counted it in a while, but there must be at least a grand folded up in there.
It should be enough to appease the Bursar’s Office before I sign up for a payment plan.
Joss slips that into the tote, too, before giving my cheek a soft pat.
“Where’s Connor?” she asks.
“Dunno.” I think about the calls I haven’t answered and the texts I haven’t opened, and my heart hurts worse than my banged up body.
After a solemn nod, Joss reaches out one last time to run her palm along my arm. “Take care of yourself, alright? You’re a good boy, no matter what your father says. I wish he had allowed us to be closer.”
Joss leaves, and I lug what’s left of my life back up to Randy’s door.
The dude is snoring from his bed in the corner, so I set my things down quietly and turn off the TV.
There’s a hoodie in the tote that I put on before slipping back out into the breezeway.
Sitting on the top step of the courtyard stairs, I make the call I’ve been forcing myself not to all evening.
“Dane?” Connor answers on the very first ring. “You there?”
“Hey.” My voice cracks.
“Where are you?”
“Randy’s. You?”
“Margot’s. She and her roommates are making me watch this super gay show. It’s okay, but…”
“What’s the show?” I ask, content to bide some time before I apologize.
“It’s a reality show, like, about drag queens doing challenges and saying weird things.”
“Are you watching RuPaul’s Drag Race?” My voice lifts with a hint of delight.
“Yeah, that’s the one. It’s pretty ridiculous. Not sure if I like it yet.” He pauses, and I hear his throat swallowing. “I think I’d enjoy it a lot more if you were here.”
Heart pinching, I sniffle up my pride and say, “I’m sorry for how I acted earlier.”
“No, Dane. I’m sorry. I fucked up and did the last thing I wanted to do, which was to make things worse for you. And I never should’ve said that shit to you, either. Mine and Thalia’s relationship was never your responsibility.”
“But what you said was true. I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you on that beach. It’s hard wanting people who you can never have. I was jealous of Thalia, like always, and I enjoyed pulling you away from her. I enjoyed it when you’d fight. It was my fault.”
“Okay, I don’t care whose fault it was—”
“And I’m glad that you were honest with her, because it takes a lot of guts to be honest. I love that you’re honest. I don’t want you to be a liar like me.”
“I should have broken up with her a long time ago, when it had nothing to do with you.”
“And I should’ve left home a long time ago, when it had nothing to do with you.”
“I just miss you, Dane, and I’m worried about you.”
“Well, you’re always worried about something,” I murmur, smiling despite the tears in my eyes and the pain in my heart. “I miss you too.”
“Can I still come to your match tomorrow?”
Swiping my wrist under my nose, I whisper, “Yes, please.”