Hostile(65)

I sent the picture to Rhett this morning—not letting myself overthink it. But I imagine he’s at work. Probably with the super-talented, awesome pan chick he’ll fall for soon.

The thought makes my gut twist with bitterness.

She gave him a tattoo.

A beautiful, bold ink-splatter tattoo on his flesh. Skin I want to lick. Skin I already know the taste of but want more. So much more.

My phone lights up but doesn’t make a noise since it’s muted for class. I can’t believe my eyes when I see the sketch he sent back. It’s a charcoal sketch, the exact same scene in perfect contrast to the one I sent him, and it makes my dumbass heart flutter in my chest.

I text him quickly, trying to keep my phone in my lap. But no one really gives a damn anyway in this big lecture hall.

Me: Have you been there since the summer?

I’m pretty sure he would have told me if he had.

Rhett: No. I don’t think it would be right to go without you.

I miss him. I hate how much I miss him. Why didn’t I just tell him that I’m in love with him and I want to find a way to make it work?

Why?

Because I’m a chickenshit.

Me: Maybe for fall break?

I can see the three dots of him typing something. Then it stops and then starts again.

Rhett: Yeah. Maybe.

It’s not a no.

Rhett: I have to go. Talk later?

Me: Yeah. The drawing’s not bad. With a little practice, it could even be great someday—maybe.

He sends me back the middle finger emoji, and I swear that makes me smile bigger than any amount of lame-ass attempt at flirting ever has on this campus.

No one here knows I’m gay. I’ve gone to a few parties and met a couple of guys I think were interested, but I wasn’t. Not one part of me was into them.

I am so fucked.





FORTY-FOUR





It’s Halloween already. I’ve talked to Grayson off and on, but not nearly enough. I know he’s busy—like super busy with homework and classes, and I’ve been putting in a lot of hours at Hostile. But it still sucks.

He’s always on my mind, and I know I have it bad. I keep thinking about what Bree said—that to have the person you love, love you back is the biggest gift and might be worth having to hide. But I just can’t wrap my head around the idea. I can’t be his secret, no matter how much I love him.

And he doesn’t even know I love him.

I don’t even know if he feels the same. For all I know, he could be hooking up all over campus. Or have a boyfriend.

Fuck.

I rub the spot on my chest that aches like hell at that very thought.

“You’re not going to make that face the entire time, are you?” Bree jokes, and I look at her, wearing her Wednesday Adams costume. She looks beautiful in all black, and then Fletch wraps his arms around her in his black-and-white-striped shirt and long black shorts—the Pugsly to her Wednesday.

“You look fucking ridiculous,” I say, shoving his shoulder playfully.

He only laughs, not giving a fuck because he’ll pretty much do anything for both of us. Kole is having a Halloween party at his house tonight, and Bree actually wanted to go. She’s trying to be more social these days.

They tried like hell to get me to dress up as Gomez, but there was no fucking way. I’m here, but I’m not in costume. Instead, I chose jeans and a t-shirt that made Bree roll her eyes and call me “original.”

I think she was being sarcastic.

When we walk inside, the house is full of my coworkers. Some have dates, but there are also a lot of people I don’t recognize. Kole moves to us, giving me a half hug with a beer in his hand, dressed as some kind of superhero. “Hey, you’re actually here.”

“Yeah.” I don’t sound happy, I know.

Bree moves to my side. “This was as good as it gets.” She gestures to me, and Kole only chuckles, not surprised at all.

“Well, at least you tried, Rhett.” I scowl, and he laughs again. “Make yourselves at home. There’s food all over and lots of alcohol—which none of you are old enough for, right?” We shake our heads, none of us here to get shitfaced anyway. “Well, there’s food.” He pats my back, and I thank him. He takes off to go talk to someone else, and then I spot someone in the corner—someone familiar.

“No. Way.”

Bree is grinning next to me as she shrugs innocently. “What’s up? You see someone you know?”

I turn to her. “Did you do this?”

She lifts her shoulder again. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She’s smiling way too big not to know, but I don’t care. I just grin and walk over to the big-ass guy dressed ridiculously in a black dress and a wig with long black hair. “Really? Morticia?”

Grayson flashes his big, bright smile at me, and I notice he’s even wearing heavy black eyeliner that makes his blue eyes pop even more. He shrugs. “I can pull off a dress.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m so damn happy to see him, I can barely hide it. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in college.”

“So is Fletcher.” He nods in the direction of my friends, who, when I look over at them, look away from us quickly. Clearly taking in the show. I laugh and then smile back at him, shaking my head.