Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Zeke
Silence fills the room. It’s thick. Suffocating.
I can’t meet any of my brothers’ eyes because I’m afraid to see the disappointment infecting me reflected back from them.
And all I can think is that there’s every chance one of these assholes is the cause of all this.
I’m just holding out hope that it was an innocent slipup.
The suspension is gutting, but knowing one of our brothers possibly sold us out is the hardest thing about all of this.
Even harder than informing Nationals and having my ass chewed out. Even harder than telling Robbie we’ll all be missing spring formal and have to cancel graduation bash—the largest party we throw every year.
No one knows what to say.
“All because of some fucked-up rumors,” Chad says, sounding lost.
And I know I’m president, and I know I’m supposed to be the one to deal with all this, but I can’t stand my thoughts recycling any more than they already have been over the last twenty-four hours.
This would be so much easier if Charles was here.
Well, easier for me. My brothers don’t need more shit news today.
But I also don’t need to relive this shock with them.
“Right.” I bring my hands together and then stand. “I think we all need time to process this. I’ll be working with the dean as best as I can, and if he comes to you with questions, just be honest and accommodating. If we’re lucky, this will fizzle away to nothing.”
There are a few murmured responses that I don’t even bother trying to make sense of. I leave them and head for my room when I pause. Study and feel sorry for myself? Or give in to the urge to go and see Charles.
I’m sure he said his dads were coming up today, but I have no idea what time they were meant to get here or how long they’d be staying. Fuck it.
I send Charles a text to let me know when he’s free.
Charles:
My dads just got here and we’re about to head out for lunch, so probably not until later. Way later, if last time they visited is anything to go by
Me:
Dammit, I wanted to see you. Tomorrow, then?
Charles:
Sure
Charles:
But, I mean, you can come with us. If you want to. No pressure
I blink at the text, rereading it to make sure I’m following what he’s asking. He wants me to go out for lunch … with him and his dads? Hooboy. I’m being hit with a truck ton of nerves, similar to how I feel on the starter’s block.
The only answer I can give is no, of course.
Meeting the parents is kinda major, and even if we do have feelings for each other, that doesn’t change that in reality, we’re nothing to each other.
I want to see him. I want to meet his dads.
I want them to like me. But how can I expect them to do that when their son is nothing more than a secret to me?
Me:
As friends?
Charles:
We can be whatever you want us to be
And I’d expect nothing else from Charles than to put my feelings first here, but I kinda wish he’d pressure me. Ask me to step up and give me that push to stop being a wuss.
Me:
What I want us to be isn’t possible
Charles:
We’re the only ones who get to decide that
Me:
So, if I decided I wanted you to be my boyfriend?
My phone immediately lights up with a call, and I duck into my bedroom before I answer. I’m smiling, even with all the shit going on, because all it takes is his voice to make everything else not matter.
“Did you really ask me that over text?” he asks, sounding breathless. “Zeke Ariston, you take that back right now and—”
“You’re cute.”
He huffs. “Am not.”
“Totally cute. And definite boyfriend material.”
A whimper comes down the line. “You’re going to kill me.”
“Then we’d be even.” I’m nervous when he doesn’t reply straight away. “So … this question is kinda a two-way street. I’m going to need to know how you feel about it.”
“I … You have no idea how much I want that, but …”
“I’m moving.”
“Exactly.”
“And we don’t have long left.”
“No need to remind me.” His voice is all pouty.
“Maybe … maybe I need to think about coming out.”
“No.”
I laugh. “Isn’t that my choice?”
“It is, but until you met me, you’d never even considered that. And I’m flattered, really, but what happens after you come out and things end between us? What if it completely fucks up your future?”
“And if I don’t, it completely fucks up right now.”
“Only if we let it.” His voice softens. “You’ve been working on this for years. I’m not ruining that for you. I can stay secret, and we can make it work. But …”
“Yeah?”
“Please don’t be angry, but I might have told my dads about us.
Before we were anything. There’s no way they’d tell anyone—they get what it’s like to be closeted, but yeah.
If you come, they know, and it’ll be up to you whether we clarify that things are still going or that we’re only friends now, whatever. ”
I try to work out how I feel about that. That people know. Not only about me but about me and Charles. Instead of panic or nausea, I … like it.
“Well, that’s four people because Chad knows too.”
“Really?”
“Well …” I shrug even though he can’t see it. “He guessed, and I didn’t deny it.”
I swear I can hear him trying to smother a smile. “Well, the offer is there. It’s up to you.”
“I’m going to come,” I say.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” My whole chest feels inflated. “I dunno how I want to play it, but can we see how things go?”
“Of course.” He lets out a breath. “And no pressure, but I could use your support today.”
“With what?”
“Uh … I want to talk to them about something. It might not go well.”
For once, I get a chance to repay him for all the support he gives me. “Whatever you need.”
“Zeke Ariston.” A man who looks exactly like an older version of Charles holds out his hand. “It’s nice to put a face to the pain in the ass we keep hearing about.”
I snort and shake his hand. “Believe me when I say Charles gives as good as he gets.”
“Oh, we’d believe it,” the other man says. “I’m Dash, Charles’s dad. His father is Archibald Levine the Third. Ensure you address him accordingly.”
My gaze goes from him to older Charles and back again. “Please say you’re messing with me.”
“It’s Archie,” his father says, throwing Dash a look.
Dash cracks up laughing. “Charles wasn’t exaggerating. You don’t mess around.”
“Sorry to break it to you, Dash Levine the Seventieth. Titles mean jack shit to me.”
“You and me both. And it’s Dash Lewis. The first. I’m a nasty commoner.”
I take my seat. “Likewise.” Then, completely spurred on by Charles’s dads’ warmth, I reach over and take Charles’s hand. “Some guys just like it nasty.”
And like that, the red splotches I love so much appear on his cheeks as his eyes go wide. “Fuck me, I’m in trouble.”
Older Charles drops into the seat beside his husband. “I thought you would have put that together before now.”
“How ridiculous of me to think that everyone at this table liked me and wanted me to be happy.”
“Yeah, but we want us to be happy more, and teasing you really makes me happy,” I point out.
His eyes meet mine, and even though he’s desperately trying to be exasperated, his smile is sneaking through. “One day, it won’t work anymore.”
“I highly doubt that.” Not that I’m going to have the time to test that theory out.
“Zeke,” Archie says, pulling my attention from Charles. “We’re told you’re a swimmer?”
“Trying to be.”
“Suddenly modest?” Dash asks. “I don’t think Olympic-bound is trying.”
He has a point. “The thing about the Olympics is there’s no guarantee. Anyone could step up who’s better than me, or I could have a bad qualifying swim, and then it’s all over.”
“But you’re fucking good,” Charles says. “Zeke’s going to be at a facility in California that’s known for training Olympians. He’s going to go far.”
“California?” Archie asks, surprised. It doesn’t escape my notice that Dash presses a hand to his husband’s thigh under the table.
Suddenly, I’m uncomfortable under their stares. “Yeah. I fly home to see family after graduation, and then I move a month later.”
A painfully awkward silence follows.
“It’s going to be great,” Charles jumps in. “I’m so excited for him.”
I swallow hard and squeeze his hand tighter. Will we stay in contact after I leave? Will that be a painful fucking vortex of pining?
“And, actually …” Charles turns back to his dads. “Talking about the future, I, umm … Well … I …” He sucks in a sudden loud breath and says on an exhale, “I don’t think law is for me.”
My mouth drops, but Charles isn’t looking at any of us.
“I’m sorry, I know it’s a huge deal and that Grampy is going to be angry, but I can’t …
I just can’t. Every time I think about becoming a lawyer and living that life, it’s too much.
I feel sick. Angry. Prematurely stressed for the me in ten years who’s living a life I hate and can’t escape from.
I refuse for that to be my life, so this isn’t me asking permission, it’s me telling you. ”
Holy shit. “Charlie …”
He gives me a quick smile before lifting his chin to face his dads.
“I know this sucks. I know the timing is the worst thing ever, and I know this puts us all in a horrible position with the family, but I hope you can try to understand. I’ll talk to Grampy over the summer once I’ve turned down Cornell and there’s nothing he can do to change my mind. ”
I have to fight the urge to pull him into my lap. I’m so proud, so impressed to see him facing them down and being firm, and my heart is in my throat while I wait for his dads to answer. I don’t know them well, but they seem cool. Surely, fucking surely they’ll be cool about this.
They can’t want their son to be unhappy all his life.
And if Charles does walk away, if he throws in law and Cornell, what then? Does he have a plan?
My heart is beating out an anxious rhythm. He’s just over a month away from graduation. This could mean starting over. This is … fucking huge.
But the one question that’s louder than the others is:
What could this mean for us?