Chapter 37
TIM
“What are you doing here?” Keith asks.
I stand in the doorway outside his room at his fraternity house. He rubs his palm up and down the side of his jeans. He’s nervous as fuck, and he should be.
“Why do you think I’m here?” I ask, tilting my head.
He shrugs.
“You’ve always been a shitty liar, Keith. You know that? Even when you were telling me that you weren’t feeling anything. That you felt the same way I did about what we were doing.”
“But you kept seeing me anyway, didn’t you? So who’s the asshole now? The guy who made me think I was special. Like there was a chance—”
“I told you I wanted to fuck, and you were fine with that. You wanted something more, and just because you couldn’t have it, you went apeshit on a guy who was supposed to be your friend.”
“Supposed to be. But obviously not enough that he didn’t mind fucking around with you behind my back.”
“You have no idea how fucked up that sounds, but you know what, you should’ve just hurt me.”
He’s quiet.
“You had to have been recording from the beginning,” I say. “So why that night of all nights?”
“It showed just how disgusting you both were. I wasn’t going to fucking do anything with it, but then you guys started flaunting your fucking relationship around town. So you ask me, Why that night? Let me ask you, Why him? What the fuck could you have possibly seen in that fucker?”
“He’s a good person. An amazing fucking person.”
“He’s a prick just like everyone else you’re always complaining about.”
Mark walks up beside me. He’s been standing in the hall the whole time, and I can see by how pale Keith’s face gets that he’s surprised as fuck.
Mark doesn’t say anything. Just stares him down.
Keith cocks his head. “Oh, what is this? A fucking intervention?”
“It’s going to be an arrest,” I say. “And that’s the only reason I haven’t fucking kicked your ass yet.”
“The police are on the way,” Mark says.
“That’s bullshit. You don’t have proof I did anything wrong.”
“You wanna bet?” Mark asks. “You don’t think with Mom’s connections I can get a hacked phone’s IP traced?”
“You fucking wouldn’t.”
“Already did,” I confess. “So looks like you’ll be paying for your fucking stunt.”
“I could have put so much more up and both of you fucking know it. You fucking animals.”
His face, which was flushed when Mark first stepped out, is now pink as his tone becomes harsh, his words filled with hate.
“Jealous much?” I ask.
“You fucking bastard.” He comes at me, fists ready.
I snatch his wrists and turn him around before shoving him back against his wall.
“No, you’re the fucking bastard. For what you did. What you tried to fucking do.”
“You know the story tomorrow morning’s going to be, ‘Governor’s Son Gets Fucked by Drug Dealer.’ ”
“No, it’s not. It’s going to be, ‘Governor’s Son and Boyfriend Victims of Asshole Hacker.’ ”
“You think we don’t have media leverage?” Mark asks, his left eyebrow arched higher than his right.
Keith takes a breath, and as he appears to calm down, I release him.
“Goodbye, fucker,” I say. “Hope you get what you deserve. Come on, Mark.”
I take Mark’s hand, and I head toward the hall, but Mark tugs me back. “One more question,” Mark asks. “That day at the library. You acted so thrown by everything. You knew all along?”
Keith snickers. “Of course I knew. Been watching you guys since the beginning. I knew I had to put on a convincing act. Wouldn’t have been very believable if I started acting all cool with you right away.”
“You’re a fucking dick,” Mark says as he guides us into the hall.
Through my periphery, I see Keith step out of his room.
“I’m supposed to believe the drug dealer’s going to go to the cops? I’ll turn you in.”
“They can fucking search my place,” I call back to him. “I’m clean. I’m just a bartender.”
There’s catharsis in being able to say that and it being true.
“Feel better?” I ask Mark.
“Starting to.” A smile creeps across his face—one that promises to deliver so many more in our future.