Dare You To (Pushing the Limits, #2)(99)

Beth expertly manipulates our way past the RA guarding      the entrance to Mark’s floor. I’d call him an idiot, but I’m well aware that she      used the same manipulation skills to convince me to drive to Lexington. To my      horror, Beth knocks on my brother’s door without asking if I’m ready. Any hope      Mark would be in class ends when the doorknob jiggles and Mark’s large, looming      figure stands in the door frame.

Beth flashes a wicked smile. “S’up, Mark. How was the game      against Florida?”

He hesitantly grins as his eyes flicker between me and Beth. “I      sacked the quarterback twice. Don’t you watch the news?”

She shrugs. “No. I’m pretending to care about football in order      to break the ice. I’ll be in the lobby.” Beth nonchalantly walks off the way we      came. Even when the door at the end of the hallway shuts, I still watch. After      dragging my ass here, I never thought she’d leave me to do this on my own.

Mark steps away from the door and forces cheerfulness. “Do you      want to come in?”

“Yeah.” I mimic his tone. Mark and I never forced anything      before this summer.

Mark’s dorm room is the same as it was last year. I can tell he      has the same roommate by the posters of Star Wars      hanging on the wall. “Where’s Greg?”

“Class. Do you want something to drink?” He opens a small      fridge. “Gatorade, water?”

My mouth tastes like the desert, but I don’t want to prolong      this. “I’m sorry.”

Mark closes the fridge and sits on the bottom bunk. His fake      smile vanishes and I shove my hands in my pockets. The Band-Aid method sucked      for both of us. I wish I could make our relationship strong again. Mark was the      first person I told when I pitched a no-hitter, made my first all-star team, and      kissed a girl. Now, I don’t even know what words to stutter out next.

“How’re Mom and Dad?” he asks.

How’re Mom and Dad. I can answer that. I take a seat on the      two-seater couch next to the bunks. “Okay. Dad’s busy. He’s expanding the      construction business and he plans on running for mayor.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” Wow.

“And Mom?”

“Wrapped up in her social clubs and events like normal.      Lunches. Dinners. Teas.” I pause, wondering if I should say what I’m about to.      “She misses you.”

Mark leans forward and holds his hands together between his      bent knees. “Does Dad ever mention me?”

The hope fighting to surface on Mark’s face makes looking at      him painful. If I answer with a plain yes, I create false hope, or I could tell      him the truth. None of the answers are ones I want to give. “Did you ever want      to do anything besides football?”

Mark scrapes his knuckles against his jaw before snatching a      book off his bed and tossing it to me. I catch it in midair. “Quality Lesson Plans for Secondary Physical       Education?”

“I’m an education major.”

“Since when?”

“Since...” Mark drums the fingers of his clasped hands once.      “Always.”

Faking interest in the pages, I flip through the book. “I      thought you were pre-med.”

“That’s what Dad wanted me to major in. College for Dad was      nothing more than a step toward the NFL. The pre-med was if I got injured. Mom      wanted one of us to be a doctor. That was Dad’s way of making her happy.”

Mark’s organized his desk the same as last year: laptop, iPod      dock. After Mark’s first college football game, Mom had someone take a family      picture on the field. He’s taped the photograph on the wall next to his practice      schedule. Some things are the same. Others are not. “Do you hate football?”

“No. I love football and want to play. In fact, I want to      become a high school football coach. Dad knew that. He didn’t agree with me, but      he knew it. I thought if I played along, that if I pretended that—” He cuts      himself off.

I came here. I brought this up. I can finish the statement for      him. “They’d accept who you are?”

Mark nods. “Yeah.”

The two of us sit in silence. My stomach twists and turns like      I’m on a boat on the verge of capsizing. My life was perfect and I enjoyed every      second. Mark’s two little words “I’m gay” tipped my world. Maybe I get why he      left. Maybe I don’t. Either way, anger still festers, and if I’m doing this, I’m      doing this. “You left me.”