17. CHAPTER 17
It was New Year’s Eve, and Zach and I sat in the back seat of Ricky’s car, driving to Maddux’s house. Every year, Maddux’s parents went out of town for New Year’s, and every year, he threw a kegger that they pretended not to know about.
“Hey, have you talked to Easton since Christmas?” Zach asked.
“No. Is Nicole coming tonight?” I asked to change the subject as quickly as possible.
The weight I’d shrugged off after talking to Gavin returned with a vengeance. Easton hadn’t texted me back in a week. Not once.
“Yeah, she’s meeting me there. Silas told me Easton is coming, too.” Zach glanced at me, but I made sure not to give him a reaction.
I fidgeted with my phone, hoping his name would stop being said. I didn’t want to talk about him until I had a chance to see him, but, apparently, he wasn’t texting Zach back, either, and Zach was fishing for the reason why.
We got to our destination, and Ricky parked the car in Walmart’s parking lot. Maddux’s house was right down the street, and parking at Walmart seemed safer than to have a dozen cars at Maddux’s.
My senses ignited when the door opened. What had originally been a ten-person sausage fest was now a full-on high-school party. Music blasted in three different rooms, and, for the first time in four years, there were nearly the same number of girls as guys.
Zach left the three of us to find Nicole while Ricky and I started toward the kitchen to grab the first beer of the night. We got to the keg, and I started to pump out two Natty Lights. The smell of stale beer hung in the air.
Then I saw him. Laughing with Ashley like nothing had happened. Like I was another NPC in his party montage. My chest tightened before I even realized I’d stopped breathing.
“Maddux, Easton. Come do a shot with us!” Ricky said, grabbing a handle of vodka off the top of the fridge.
Maddux walked over to us; with no hat on, his red hair jumped out like flames.
Easton glanced at Ricky and me before saying, “I’m good,” and turning back to Ashley.
“Since when does Easton turn down a shot?” Ricky asked Maddux, who grabbed three glasses from the shelf.
“First time I’ve ever seen it,” said Maddux.
“More for us,” Ricky said, pouring out the three drinks.
I left the kitchen as soon as I swallowed, not wanting to spend another second there. Music pounded in my ears; I couldn't think. God, I hated the crap that always played at parties.
Easton refusing alcohol just because he saw me? Another rejection.
I wanted to walk up to him and give him a bloody nose. I wanted to walk over to him and kiss him as if no one in the world would care. I wanted to tackle him into the wall. I wanted to say all the words I had never had the courage to before.
Instead, I settled for going into Maddux’s basement and turning on a college football game.
I sat on the couch, happy to be in a place without music booming and people everywhere.
If I couldn’t be around Easton, I didn’t want to be around anyone.
I had hoped we’d talk tonight, but I now knew we wouldn’t.
My stomach ached like nothing I’d ever experienced before, and it had nothing to do with the alcohol I continued to drink. I fiddled with my phone, hoping for a text but not a conversation.
On the TV, Boise State was up almost five touchdowns. I wasn’t paying attention.
“I thought I saw you come down here.” The words snapped me out of my trance, and Zach stood on the stairs.
“There’s a game on,” I said, glancing at the TV.
Zach looked over as well and said, “Tanner. It’s 35-3.”
“It’s good football.”
“What’s going on, Tanner?”
“Just not in the partying mood.”
“This is your favorite party of the year,” Zach said. “This is the only party of the year you like at all.”
“There’s one too many people here this time,” I said, trying to sound cryptic.
“Who’s that?” Zach said. The leather squealed as he sat on the couch and handed me another beer.
I kept my eyes forward, not able to look at him, not wanting to give anything away. After how easy it had been with Gavin, I thought about telling him. I figured he already knew.
But he wasn’t Gavin. I had no idea how he’d react, and I couldn’t risk it. Zach was older than Gav, and he knew better what this meant.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Does to me.”
Zach and I had always been close. Maybe not as close as Gavin and I, but we could still talk about everything. Not this, though. Whether to protect Easton or to protect myself, I decided this wasn’t the time. “I’ll tell you someday.”
“Okay,” Zach sighed. “Just don’t let him get to you too much. Take a couple of minutes, and then come upstairs and hang out with Nicole and me. Tonight should be fun. You could always try to make nice with him, too.”
Zach headed for the stairs, and I opened my mouth to stop him—but by the time I found the will, he was already gone.
What he said was true, but the wound felt too raw to face at the moment. I watched more of the lopsided football game and finished the beer Zach had handed me. When the game ended, I decided it was time to rejoin the party.
Before I could find Zach and Nicole, though, Ricky ran into me. “There you are, Tanner. I’ve been looking for you. We’ve got next at beer pong. Time to defend our title.” He yanked at my T-shirt, forcing me to follow him to the loudest room in the house.
Every year, there was a tournament, and Ricky and I had won last year. We walked into the living room, and massive poster boards lined the wall. Silas wanted a thirty-two-team tournament this year, and he’d achieved his goal—the entire board was filled with names.
“Who do we have first this year?” I asked, trying to find our names.
“Easton and Ashley. Should be easy pickings.”
Of course we were facing Easton first. Because why wouldn’t we?
“We’d better kick their asses,” I said, walking over to grab two Bud Lights from the case sitting against the wall.
The game before us ended, with Zach and Nicole losing to Maddux and Silas by a wide margin. When Zach passed us on the way to the table, he whispered to me to take a breath and relax.
I tried to follow his advice, but when I looked across the table and saw Easton’s face, I couldn’t help but tense. When I mustered up the courage to make eye contact, he was looking anywhere but at me.
I missed my first five shots, and Easton couldn’t miss. Thankfully, Ricky sunk three, so we were still in striking distance.
“Time for you to sink something, Quinn. We can’t lose to these sophomores,” Ricky said. They had one cup left while we were still shooting at three.
“I’m trying,” I said. I bounced the ping-pong ball off the table twice before lining up a shot on the front cup remaining. The shot soared over the table, not even close.
“Goddammit,” I mumbled.
Ricky sunk another shot, but Easton and Ashley were still way ahead.
Easton grabbed the ball that was rolling on the floor and took his shot. In one fluid motion, he sunk his sixth straight. Ashley missed, so we were going to have a shot at redemption.
Ricky’s shot rimmed out, meaning it was up to me. We’d be out in the first round if I missed my shot. I couldn’t let that happen, especially not against Easton. I bounced the ball off the table twice, cocked my elbow, and let the ball fly—and it splashed in the center of the cup.
“Game on, fuckers,” I said, a little too loudly. I looked across the table, again trying to make eye contact with Easton, but he wanted nothing to do with that. My chest tightened even more as I balled my hands into fists.
We ended up going on for another four rounds, Easton making his shot and me sinking redemption.
Neither of us could miss at this point. In round five, Easton and Ashley both missed, and we had a chance to eliminate a cup.
Ricky missed his shot, but I made my fifth in a row.
Ricky grabbed me in a hug before pushing me away and high-fiving me.
“That’s how you fucking do it, Quinn. That’s how you do it! ”
“Faggots.”
The word was barely audible, but I heard it as clear as any word ever spoken. Easton had picked up the ball I had sunk and called Ricky and me (mostly me) faggots.
All the air had been knocked out of my chest. My vision blurred at the edges as sweat dripped into my eyes from my forehead. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe.
I expected that word from a random person. Someone that already hated me. A faceless villain.
Not the person whose lips had been connected to mine so many times. Not the boy I’d let myself fall in love with. Not him.
I doubted anyone else had heard him, other than maybe Ashley, who looked at him curiously. But I’d heard it, and Easton had said it, and that was what mattered right now.
Easton stepped up and sunk another shot. Ricky missed, which meant I needed to sink my sixth in a row. I didn’t care anymore. I wanted to be anywhere but here. My shot fell short. Easton grabbed Ashley in a hug and started to make out with her right there at the table.
I sprinted out of the room and left the house as quickly as possible. It wasn’t the first time I had left in a huff after a loss, so it’d be a while before anyone realized I had gone.
I ran the two miles home in my jeans and polo. The wind cut through my clothes, but I didn’t feel it. My lungs burned, but I kept going. I ran as if, were I to stop, the grief would catch up and swallow me whole.
Easton hadn’t rejected me—he’d erased me. He’d turned me into something dirty. These thoughts swirled in my head when I got home, and I wasn’t able to make sense of them.
I wished I was good enough for Easton. He knew me, all of me, and yet—rejection.
Since the conversation at the smash room, I’d thought we were past this, that he was coming around, that I actually meant something to him, even if he couldn’t say it out loud.
I cried until I had nothing left. And when I finally slept, I dreamed of the version of Easton I could never have. The version of Easton who didn’t hate himself enough to hate me.