Chapter 22 Dane
Dane
“Ilove you, Dane.”
Connor’s voice seeps into my being like a warm mist, cradling my organs and tingling my skin. I don’t know what I did to prompt this, unless my zany dance-jumping has been the key to Connor’s heart this whole time.
Or maybe love doesn’t need a reason to exist. Lord knows there was never a reason for me to exist, but here I am, and I’m so happy I could cry.
Instead, I hold his face and kiss him like I always imagined I would kiss Prince Charming.
Connor may not be the tall, dark, and handsome prince from my adolescent daydreams, but he’s something so much better, because he’s real. He’s mine.
“I want it to be more than a fantasy. I wanna be together for real. I wanna be your boyfriend, if you wanna be mine.” Arms around my neck, Connor serenades me with words I’ve longed to hear for as long as I can remember.
Then his mouth covers mine so quickly I don’t have time to tell him I want that too.
So I say it with my kisses instead, holding him close while I feed off the air he exhales.
Licking him, sucking him, nipping at his lips, and breathing him in.
So warm, and slick, and sweet. His hands in my hair and mine under his shirt, everything and everyone fading into the scenery while we bask in a spotlight of our own making.
Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
Until something blunt crashes into my side, tearing me away from my lover and pushing me in quick bursts through the crowd. I’m spinning, disoriented and pissed off, fighting against the Randy-shaped monster forcing me toward the exit.
It isn’t until we’re in open space between the porta-potties and the first aid tent that Randy lets me go.
The sudden loss of momentum staggers me.
It nearly knocks me on my ass. As I regain my balance, reality sinks in that my best friend just committed the single worst offense in the bro code. He totally cock-blocked me!
“What the fuck, man?!” I grab his shoulder to shove him, but he’s quick to snatch my arms before I can throw him to the ground.
“Dude!” he shouts. “You are so fucking high right now, you were making out with Connor!”
I blink the fury out of my eyes until I’m just annoyed. “I’m not high, stupid! I’m gay! Let go of me!”
Randy’s grip loosens just as I’m tugging backward, and I stumble again, panting for breath.
“You’re gay?” he asks as if I'd told him I’m a fucking vampire.
“Yes!”
“Since when?”
“Since, like, birth.”
Sizing me up, Randy shakes his head. “For real? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Annoyance making way for exhaustion, I toss my arms up and answer, “I dunno, man. Maybe I thought you’d attack me!”
“I didn’t attack you! I thought you dropped acid or something. I was saving you.”
“Saving me from what? Kissing a dude? Who gives a shit? I wasn’t strangling a puppy. Why do you even care who I’m kissing? It’s none of your business.”
“Uh, okay.” Randy’s mouth pinches in a tight frown. “And here I thought we were friends, but I guess not.”
“Dude, come on. We are friends.”
“Nah, ‘cause if we’re friends, then what goes on in your life would be my business. Shit like you being gay, even though you told me you were fucking with a girl named Katie. And shit like you messing around with your sister’s boyfriend.
I’ve told you my whole life—shit that I’ve never told anyone else.
I let you crash at my place whenever you want, and I let you come to my family’s house for holidays. I thought you were my best friend.”
My heart rate calms into a defeated melancholy. “I am your best friend. I told you my life too. I just didn’t tell you this one thing.”
“Why not? You think I’m a homophobe?”
“No, it’s just… I dunno. I didn’t know how you’d react, and I didn’t wanna deal with the drama. It’s private. Can’t I keep just one thing to myself?”
“Of course you can,” he says, voice lowering, “but why would you want to? I don’t understand, but I can assume that keeping something like that a secret from everyone fucking sucks. And maybe it’s selfish, but I’m kinda hurt that you’d rather suffer like that than trust me.”
My body deflates as I rub the sweat from my forehead. “It’s not like that. I do trust you. I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable. Like, would you still let me crash with you in your studio apartment if you knew that I have sex with men?”
“You wouldn’t be having sex with any men in my apartment, so yeah, of course I’d still let you stay over.”
Even hearing Randy say that, I don’t fully believe it. I can’t. I’m not sure I know how. “Well, I didn’t wanna risk it. I didn’t wanna lose you.”
“You’re not gonna lose me, man.”
The tension between us leaves on a gentle gust of coastal breeze, and I nod my head in a silent pact to trust him more. Connor may be my bestest friend, but I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through the last few years without Randy.
“So,” he starts, a salacious smile stretching across his freckly face, “Connor, huh? How’d that happen?”
“Long fucking story.”
“Is it the real deal, or are you just being a dog?”
“Heh.” I crack a smirk, thinking it’s a little of both. “It’s real. I love him.”
“Does he love you?”
“Said he does,” I mutter bashfully, a drop of uncertainty tainting my excitement that he said he loves me. “It’s over between him and Thalia. They weren’t good together anyway.”
“Well, don’t let this dude take advantage of you, okay? You got enough shit to deal with.”
“I know.”
“I’ve been waiting to see what sort of person you’d settle down with. Didn’t think it’d be a man. But girl or guy, you gotta make sure they treat you right. They gotta make your life better, okay?”
Walking forward, I scoop my arms around the guy and hug him the same way I always do. “Thanks.”
Hugging me back, he swats my back and says, “Alright, I’m gonna go find a woman to make out with.”
“Good luck,” I chuckle as I let my friend go, sending him a two-finger salute before jetting off to find my boyfriend. That’s what Connor said, right? That we’re boyfriends?
Problem is, I can’t remember where Connor and I were in relation to where Randy took me. I head toward the stage and orient myself that way, but even with the crowd stagnant, I can’t find him. I get nervous when the next artist comes onto the stage, and the crowd erupts in impatient cheering.
“Connor?!” I shout over the raucousness. “Connor?! CONNOR?!” I grow desperate, needing to find him before—
The speakers blast and rumble with new sound, and everyone goes mad with hype.
A beat that would normally fuel my fire stirs panic in my chest. It doesn’t matter how tall I am when I can hardly move an inch among the dance-crazed crowd.
Swimming against the current uses all my muscles and elbows, and I’m not sure where I’m going until I run into a camera platform, steepled above the crowd to film the stage.
As fast as I can pry myself out of the crowd, I crawl up the ladder and onto the platform.
“Hey, what the hell?” a stout cameraman in all black admonishes me with a quick whip of his hand. “Get the fuck off!”
“Chill out! I’m looking for someone!” I point my eyes down at the crowd, scanning it for any hint of Connor’s features.
The top of a pale-blond head, the leather strands around his wrist, the glimmer off the metal piece of his camera bag strap, or a hint of the red t-shirt he stole from a bedroom in a house that used to be mine.
But I don’t see him. Anywhere.
“Dude, you need to get off!” the cameraman keeps shouting at me.
While I have a moment to breathe, I check my phone for anything from Connor.
Connor:
Where r u
Well, fuck. Where are YOU?
I crank my focus back to the crowd, and just as the cameraman is threatening to shove me off the platform, I spot a blond-haired body moving countercurrent to the surging crowd.
A split second of relief is all I’m offered before the body disappears—vanishing like a man who can’t swim succumbing to the sea.
Pushing the cameraman aside, I zip down the ladder and elbow my way toward the hope of Connor, pissing some people off as I go.
“Connor?!” I try shouting, but there’s no use. I can’t even hear my voice over the music, so I just keep moving until I find—
“Connor.” I drop to my knees where two girls are fanning Connor like he has heatstroke. But I’ve played soccer with that kid under a blazing summer sun. He’s not easily sidelined by heat.
Still, he doesn’t look good. Sat on his heels with his hands on the sand, head down and chest heaving.
“Connor!” When my voice doesn’t catch his attention, I pick his head up.
The look in his eyes scares me more than not being able to find him. The way he grabs me differs from all the other times. It’s like he’s trying to hide himself inside my skin.
Hugging him tight, I ask into his ear, “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Can’t breathe,” he says.
“What? Why not?” My mind immediately goes to this kid I knew in high school who couldn’t run halfway across the football field without collapsing from his asthma.
But then Connor says, “My EpiPen is in my car,” and it sinks in what’s happening, and how fucking dire it is that his car is parked six blocks away. “Need you to call an ambulance.”
Knowing there’s always an ambulance on standby at events like this, what I really need to do is get Connor the hell out of this crowd and to the first aid tent.
He’s clutching my back hard enough to pinch, but all I feel is the pain in my heart, wondering if he actually will die if I can’t get him help.
“I got you, Connie,” I promise before rising to my feet and bringing Connor up with me.
I’m running on pure fear and adrenaline when I hoist Connor into my arms and carry him in the opposite direction of the stage.