9. Chapter Nine
17 years old…
“And I told you I wasn’t going there!” I shout back at my father.
“You live under my roof, you follow my rules,” he bellows, his face turning bright red.
“How the hell is going to law school a rule? It’s my future, not yours!”
“As a Montgomery, and part of this family, you—”
“No!” I scream, throwing my hands up. “I don’t care what you have to say. I’m not going. I. Am not. Going!”
“Then you can get your ungrateful ass out of this house!” my father barks. “For good!”
I should be surprised, but I’m not. In a way, I’m relieved.
“My pleasure,” I say, smiling at him. I turn on my heel to head toward my room.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he shouts.
“To get my shit.”
“The things I bought you? I don’t think so!”
I take a breath, keeping my temper in check. I whirl around. Fine. He wants to be like this, he can be like this. I walk right past my father and out the front door. I make the hour and a half walk to Chris’s house in 50 degree weather with nothing but the clothes on my back and my cell phone in my pocket. By the time I get there, there isn’t a part of me that’s not cold.
I knock on the door because it’s locked, and I don’t want to walk around to the back to get the spare key. Cole answers a few seconds later.
“Is Chris h-home?”
Cole looks me up and down, frowning. “He’s at his mom’s. Is everything okay?”
Shit, I forgot he was going to his mom’s for the rest of the week.
My head falls back on my shoulders, and I let out an annoyed sound. “I’m fine.” I turn and take a step, but Cole grips my arm. When I look back at him, he’s staring at where he’s holding me.
“What’s going on, Bryson?” he asks, giving me that dad glare. “Why are you so cold?” He blinks a few times, looking out at the street. “Did you walk here?”
My bottom lip wobbles, and I suck in a shaky breath.
“He kicked me out.”
Without hesitation, Cole pulls me to him, wrapping me in a hug. God, he’s so warm.
“I’ve told you a million times, Bryson, you can stay here whenever you need. Now get your ass inside.”
Present day…
The bowling alley parking lot is packed when Chris pulls his BMW 3 series into it. He drives around three times before someone leaves and he snags the spot.
“Pins on a Saturday night is always crazy,” he comments as we get out.
“Wasn’t this way back when it was Alley Kat’s.”
Chris laughs, clicking the button to lock his car before shoving the key into his pocket.
“That old lady did not know what she was doing with a bowling alley. Ever since this guy took over and introduced all kinds of shit like the Rave Saturdays and Disco Fridays, it’s been wild.”
“Can’t remember the last time I went bowling,” I say as I pull the door open. “There was this beat up place not too far from my apartment in Providence, but it was those candlestick pins. I wasn’t into it.”
As soon as we’re through the door, a short girl with dark hair runs toward me so fast she’s nothing but a blur. She jumps into my arms, wrapping her arms around my neck and practically choking me.
“Bryson! Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here!” Mila squeals.
I hug her back, twirling her around. When I place her on her feet, she’s smiling as she moves her long dark brown hair away from her face and adjusts her tortoise cat eye glasses.
“You look good, Mila. More… tan.” I pat her on the head, causing her to growl and swat my hand away.
“Nothing’s changed,” Chris mutters. “She’s still spicy as hell.”
“I take offense to that,” she says, glaring at him with those dark brown eyes of hers.
“No, you don’t,” Chris says, giving her a playful shove. She shakes her head and moves after him.
Mila and Chris are… confusing. They’ve liked each other forever but won’t do anything about it. I don’t understand it. Not a single clue what’s stopping them. When I ask him about it, he says he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship, but I think it’s a cheap excuse. There’s more to it that he won’t admit. I’ve asked Mila about it over the years too. In not so many words, she says she’s waiting for him to get his shit together.
“Fucking Bryson Montgomery!” Mark greets when I reach him and Onyx. He pulls me in for a hug. When I let go of him, Onyx does the same. He fixes his beanie when he steps back, pulling it tighter over his dirty blond hair. The guy doesn’t go anywhere without that mustard yellow beanie. Surprised it still fits his big head after all these years. One day he showed up with it and it never left. No one knows the story behind it because he won’t tell us. Just brushes it off, saying it was a gift.
“The whole group is back together,” Mila says, smiling up at the four of us guys. She’s at least a foot shorter than all of us, so I bet we look like her bodyguards, which isn’t far from the truth.
Mark, being Mila’s older twin brother—who looks nothing like her—has always been protective of her. When Chris and I came into the picture in middle school, it was like she had three big brothers. And it turned into four when we met Onyx, who moved here from Texas in the middle of freshman year of high school. He got the nickname Onyx because the dork was wearing an Onyx t-shirt when we met him, saying it was his favorite Pokémon. It’s a penis-rock. Who the actual hell picks that thing to be their favorite? Onyx, that’s who.
“We ready to bowl, or what?” Mark asks, throwing his shoulder-length light brown hair into a messy man bun.
“Can’t believe you haven’t cut that shit yet,” I comment as we move to the counter to get our shoes and pay for our games. He looks at me over his shoulder.
“The ladies love it.”
“Ew!” Mila says, shoving him. “I don’t want to hear about your groupies, Mark.”
He rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t gonna say anything else,” he adds sheepishly.
“So the band is doing well, then?” I ask.
He nods. “We’ve played a few shows, each one getting bigger. We’re trying to get into a festival at the end of the summer in Seattle. Not sure if we’ll make it, but we’re not giving up.”
“Which is why you should spend more time practicing, and less time with your groupies,” Mila scolds.
I smile and sneak a look at Chris. He shakes his head and mouths, nothing’s changed.
He’s right. And it feels damn good.
There was a plan to do something after bowling, but considering we’ve had quite a few drinks—minus Mila because she doesn’t touch alcohol—and are having the time of our lives, we aren’t going anywhere. The bowling alley is dark, neon lights dancing to the beat of whatever pop song comes over the speakers. Everyone is dancing in their lanes, having drinks, eating greasy food, laughing, and playing their games.
As I thought I would, I’ve lost each of the four games we’ve played so far. Lost as in came in last place by an embarrassing amount. I haven’t hit three digits in a single game.
“I suck!” I shout as I turn, sick of watching my balls go down the gutter.
Mark is curled over laughing, tears in his eyes, while Mila is watching me with her nose scrunched up. Chris is talking to some girl he “accidentally” bumped into, and Onyx is keeping score.
“Better luck next time, man,” he says, using a hand to pull his beanie down further on his head. The thing is like the ugliest security blanket I’ve ever seen.
“So, how many strikes do I need to at least come in fourth?” I rest my forearm on Onyx’s shoulder, and we look up at the screen.
“Uh,” Onyx says, looking over the scores and doing the math in his head. He’s a secret genius. You’d never know how smart he is by looking at him. He looks like a grunge kid who spends his time smoking weed and skateboarding, but he doesn’t do either of those things. “Ten.”
“Ten?” I shout, squinting up at the screen. “We have two frames left!”
“Better luck next time?” Onyx says with an awkward shrug of his shoulders before bursting into laughter.
I groan and throw my arm around Mila. I bend to bury my face in her shoulder and whine loudly. She laughs, patting me on the back.
“It’s okay if you suck at bowling, Bryson. We still love you.”
“I’m so glad to be home, Mila.”
I lift my head from her shoulder but keep my arm around her and she puts hers around my waist.
“I’m glad you’re back.” Her gaze goes to Chris for a brief second before she ducks her head.
“He’s an asshole,” I tell her. She shrugs. I spin her and move us to the seats while Onyx takes his turn. He knocks down seven pins the first shot. Fucker.
“It’s fine,” she says. “It’s just not meant to be.”
Everyone in our group knows about the two of them, and they know we know. We all just act like we don’t, turning a blind eye to it to not cause drama. They can handle whatever that is on their own.
I lean close to her, and say, “If you want me to kick his ass, I will. I know where he sleeps.”
She giggles, pushes me away and sighs. “Really, it’s okay. But what about you? No lucky lady in your life, Bryson Montgomery?”
I roll my lips between my teeth and look at the ground. These damn bowling shoes are hideous. Everyone thinks so. You’d think they’d find some new styles or something.
I’m angry at myself for never telling her. For never telling anyone other than Chris and Cole. It was one of the things that made moving to Rhode Island more appealing. It was a fresh start. For me to show up and be who I am, not worrying about changing anyone’s opinion of me by telling them I’m gay.
Not that I think my friends would look at me differently, but you never know.
“I’m sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it—”
“I’m gay,” I blurt, turning to her with a forced smile.
Her eyes widen for a split second, until she relaxes and rests her cheek on my shoulder.
“I think I knew that, Bry. But I knew you needed to tell me on your own time.”
The relief and confusion I feel is overwhelming. “How long?”
She shrugs, hooking her arms around my bicep and hugging it. “Forever.”
I huff out a laugh. “Bullshit. I didn’t even know till sophomore year.”
She lifts her head, her brown eyes meeting mine.
“Sometimes those closest to you see things about you that you can’t see about yourself,” she says.
That leaves me speechless for a few seconds. “You’re too young for such wise words, Mila Shaw.” I pat her on the head again, and this time she grins.
“Who else knows?” she asks.
“Chris and his dad. People back in Providence. I didn’t hide it in college.”
“So why are you hiding it here?” she asks.
I turn to face Mark and Onyx. Mark has a ball in his hand, while Onyx is explaining the best way to throw it to get the three pins down that are left.
“I’m not. I—” I shake my head, bringing my attention back to Mila. “It was weird to bring up then, and now? I don’t know. I feel like I waited too long, and it’ll be awkward.”
“No one will care. You know that, right? We all missed you and just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy.”
She frowns.
“Mila, your turn!” Mark calls, running over to pick her up. He tosses her over his shoulder, and she squeals, beating on his back with closed fists.
“Let me go, you animal!” He laughs, spinning her in circles before finally putting her down.
She squeals again, stomping her foot as she fixes her long hair, getting it out of her face.
“You’re an ass, Mark!”
“I know, isn’t it nice?” he asks, bending over and wiggling it.
I laugh. Then I laugh some more.
Fuck, it feels so good to be home.