Chapter Eleven
THERE WASN’T ANY way to dance around the issue. Skylar hadn’t put in half the LSAT studying time he should have.
He wasn’t taking the test until September, but it wasn’t going to be easy to get the scores he needed, and every practice test he’d taken so far told him he wasn’t anywhere close to Yale’s standards. His tutor hadn’t come out and told him it was going to be impossible, but her face made it clear he had a lot of work to do, and his failure to show up and put in the time wasn’t helping his cause. Even when he was there, his performance was grim. She hadn’t yet told his father how badly he was doing, but Skylar could tell that shoe was going to drop soon, because if she didn’t spill the beans, at some point Leighton Stone would want to know why she hadn’t prepared his son well enough. And Skylar was absolutely not prepared. He kept choking on the logic sections, and on the reading comprehension, of all things. He failed because he was nervous and the stakes were so high.
Or maybe it’s that your heart isn’t in it. You’d rather be across town in a quirky apartment arguing about manga and posing for a portrait.
Skylar dropped his pencil and stopped the stopwatch where he’d been pretending to keep track of how long it was taking him to compose the writing sample he wasn’t writing.
He pressed his fingertips to his eyes, rubbed for a second, then rose, thinking what he needed was a change of venue. There had been interesting smells coming from the kitchen earlier. Perhaps if he were lucky, whatever Mary had been baking still had some leftovers. During the regular school year, no chance. But with only himself and Unc in residence, it was possible.
Indeed, he found Unc bent over the brownie pan, but he’d only trundled through two rows, and at the sight of Skylar, he grinned a chocolate-crumb-coated grin and pushed the tray his way.
“Sorry, man. I was going to save you some, I swear.”
Skylar raised his eyebrows but said nothing, only tugged the brownies closer and helped himself to a large serving. As was always the case with Mary’s baked goods, they were heavenly, and the simple taste of chocolate and sugar did wonders to chase away some of his troubles on the spot. “How was your day?”
Unc shrugged. “A day. Desk jockeying the student union isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Though, that reminds me. That chick with big tits from Tau Alpha Kappa. What’s her name? She got a nose job last year.”
Skylar stared at him blankly.
“Aw, come on, man. You know. That girl.” He mimed huge breasts with his hands. When Skylar still appeared unmoved, Unc sighed. “Anyway. I can’t remember her name, but that girl, she stopped by the desk. Twice. Leaned over the second time and gave me quite a view. She wanted me to tell you she needs you to call her. Apparently she’s left you several phone messages. She needs a date.” Unc shook his head. “I will never understand how you get the tail you do.”
Skylar did his best to shutter his expression. “Ah. That must have been Tabitha West. Unfortunately I can’t help her out.”
Unc’s face was red now. “Are you shitting me? You’re turning her down?”
He’d already turned her down twice—if she was going behind his back to go through Unc, she must be desperate for a date indeed. Skylar wiped his mouth with a napkin to hide his frown.
Unc shook his head. “How can you be so cool about it? Never mind that—how do you do it? You’ve always got girls running up and down the steps giggling and asking if they can see you, and you’re always taking them out to fancy dinners—of course, I’d never do that. I’d go straight to the main course.” He paused. “Is that where I’m going wrong?”
Skylar gave Unc an enigmatic smile. “I can’t reveal trade secrets. You know that.”
“Come on, man. I don’t need all of them. Just enough to get tits girl to beg for me the way she does for you.”
“To start, I don’t call her tits girl.”
For whatever reason, tonight Unc wasn’t letting it go. “I’m serious, Sky.” He came around to Skylar’s side of the counter, brushing brownie crumbs off his hands. He glanced from side to side, as if making sure the room was clear, then lowered his voice. “Look…I’ve heard the rumors, and I don’t mind if they’re true.”
A shot of ice water ran through Skylar’s veins, but he kept his demeanor cool, only raised a bored eyebrow that would have fit in well in either of his parents’ boardrooms.
Unc glanced around again as his voice became a whisper. “You know. How sometimes…sometimes you date guys too.”
It was tough not to let out a breath of relief. “It is the twenty-first century.”
“That’s what I’m saying.” Unc held out his hands. “I mean, I’m not into dick, but to each their own, yeah? We got gays in the frat now, and it’s no big. Next thing you know we’re gonna have a trans man. And I’m all for it. Equality. All the way.” Unc waited a moment, basking in pride at his own inclusivity. Then his shoulders rolled forward, and he bounced on the balls of his feet like a little kid. “Now come on, tell me how you do it, please, Sky.”
Clearly he wasn’t getting out of this until he threw the dog a bone. Skylar sighed. “Fine. One hint. But that’s all. Are you listening?”
Unc was practically salivating. “I’m so listening. Hit me, baby.”
Skylar would love to, most days. “You have to give them what they want.”
When he stood, Unc blinked at him in confusion. “What? That’s it? That’s your big secret? Come on, that’s not—”
Skylar stopped him with an upraised hand. “That’s the secret. I give them what they want. Of course, you have to know what it is. Sometimes I ask them. Sometimes they tell me. And yes, both of those are trickier than they sound. But central to the whole game is giving them what they want.”
“And what about them?” Unc’s grin was as lecherous as his wink. “They give you what you want, then?”
The question rocked Skylar, making him sway on his feet. It wasn’t only because he was tired and unprepared to whip up a false front to Unc’s omnipresent sexual innuendo. It was that the bald question was, for once, worth asking.
Had they given him what he wanted? Had any of them?
What do you want, Skylar Stone?
Skylar pushed the tray of brownies away. “I’m going to study some more.”
“Aw, don’t be mad. You know I’m just teasing. You’re always such a funny one, Sky. I don’t mean anything by it.”
“I know.” Skylar didn’t know how to explain, though, that this didn’t make the teasing any easier to bear.
Unc sobered and took a step closer. “I’ll stop. I promise. But you gotta tell me what it is I’m doing wrong. I treat you like I’d treat any of the guys. You’re my brother, you know that, right?” Unc stilled, and Skylar could see some idea, probably terrible, dawning. “Sky—bro, if you’re gay, or bi, or trans or stuff, you know it’s cool with me, yeah?”
Skylar wiped his hand over his face, but he couldn’t get rid of his smile, not completely. He sighed and punched Unc lightly in the shoulder. “I’m not gay, or bi, or trans.”
Unc looked almost disappointed. “Okay. But if you change your mind, I’ve got your back.”
Skylar waved him off, laughing, and went back up the stairs to his room to study.
Thanks to Unc, however, all he did was stare at the study guides, his mind spinning the conversation on a playback loop, his reply to Unc’s last query feeling like the statement most likely to damn him should his case ever go to trial. Without consciously meaning to, he ended up staring at Xander’s painting, at the shadowy figure he so identified with, and he thought about both the emotions the painting evoked in him and the man who had engineered the art itself.
Then he gave up, put on his running shoes and shorts, and went outside.
It was too early in the evening, and his run made him sweaty fast, even in the shade. By the time he got to the hospital hill, he was a ball of sweat, and he collapsed on the bench overlooking the city with his chest heaving. His body dripped with perspiration. His hair sagged onto his face, his neck, into his eyes. He felt sticky and disgusting.
If Xander were here, though, he would stare, and he would make you feel beautiful.
Skylar shut his eyes, opening his mouth as his lungs fought to reclaim air. Very well. It was past time to think about this, to decide how to handle it. And was there, really, a better place to do it than their hill? He released a few more breaths, steadying himself, and then he let the voice he’d been so carefully shuttering whisper what it had been trying, for weeks now, to tell him.
You might not be gay, but Xander Fairchild is. And he’s attracted to you.
And you are attracted to him.
Skylar shut his eyes tighter, his chest hitching and breath catching for reasons having nothing to do with how fast he had run or how hot it was outside. This was why he’d silenced that voice. He didn’t want to think about that, not with Xander. He liked being with Xander. A lot. Couldn’t they simply leave it alone? Why did they have to make it complicated? Xander hadn’t said anything, certainly he must be fine with things the way they were—
He’s not.
Neither are you.
Skylar rested his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his shaking hands. Why? Why couldn’t being friends be enough? Why did it have to become complicated? He didn’t understand. He’d thought he’d finally come to terms with himself, had almost swallowed a label, and now…now what, he was wrong?
Except that wasn’t right either, because it wasn’t as if being attracted to Xander had radically altered him in some way. More like showed him a hidden door. That was everything about Xander, honestly. Come play in this secret garden with me. Discover truths about yourself you never knew.
The thing was those truths terrified Skylar. This one too.
Did Xander really understand about Skylar? He couldn’t possibly. If Skylar hinted he were interested too, Xander would assume…and then Skylar would have to explain…
While Skylar shouldn’t feel any shame in that, it didn’t change the fact that Skylar didn’t relish experiencing a negative reception, especially from someone he held in such high regard. He needed his time with Xander. What they had right now? It was enough for him.
Is it enough for Xander?
Skylar squeezed his fists so tight his nails cut into his palm. No. He was fairly sure it wasn’t.
He had to find a way to tell him, but he didn’t know how. Not when he couldn’t figure out what it was he was supposed to say, what the truths were in his own heart. Not when every time he turned around, they were all changing.
Skylar stared across the sunset-lit skyline of the town and whispered the few truths he did have.
“You aren’t Galatea, Xander. I am. But I don’t know which parts are real and which parts are facade anymore, which ones are deeper truths you helped me uncover and which ones are false fronts I’ve used to hide the truths that are never going to change. Does that mean I’m going to end up alone? Does that mean I’m supposed to be alone?”
He shut his eyes again, a tear escaping down his cheek as heaviness settled on his heart.
“I just want to find a way to be with you that doesn’t hurt you. Because I didn’t realize it until Unc asked. No, no one’s ever given me what I wanted.”
He opened his eyes, turning his head to look at the space beside him, where Xander should have been. “Until you. You give me what I want without my ever asking for it—and almost always without giving you anything in return.”
He placed a trembling hand on the stone bench, which was cool, despite the heat. “But what if I can’t give you what you want from me?”
XANDER SPENT THE drive to Skylar’s family’s beach house envisioning ways he would embarrass his friend in front of his family and in general stick out like the awkward banana he was.
“Stop being nervous,” Skylar told him when they stopped for lunch at a diner outside of Liberty. “My mom will love you.”
Xander stabbed his fry into his ketchup. “You’re only saying that.”
“No, she will. She’s always liked artistic types. I’ve often wondered how she ended up with my dad, to be honest.”
“What are your parents like?”
Skylar’s smile strained a little. “Oh, you know. They’re busy. Lawyer and CEO. Always running. Hardly ever in the same state, let alone the same house. It’s always been that way.”
Xander blinked. “You mean—they didn’t live together when you grew up? Who lived with you?”
“Nannies.” Skylar’s smile was almost a ting now, and it was weird to see it again after such a long absence. “My dad’s assistant, Ellen, basically raised me. She and her family. Her daughters were my best nannies.”
Xander didn’t know what to say to this, because it was…weird. Skylar wasn’t raised by his own parents? Was that normal with rich people? Xander felt weird complaining about his own parents now, because for all their issues, at least they stayed in his zip code. Well, not his birth father. Fuck him, really, but…cripes.
Searching for something to say to lighten the awkward, Xander seized on the first thing he could think of. “Do you have pictures of them? Ellen and her daughters, I mean.”
He felt dumb as soon as he said it, but though Skylar looked surprised, his plastic smile melted away, and a real one replaced it, accompanied by a blush as he picked up his phone and thumbed through his photos. “I do. Tons. Ellen’s always sending me pictures of the family. Here—that’s Ellen, there, with her husband Tom.”
Xander peered at the phone. A lovely, late middle-aged black woman stood proudly in a smart yellow dress with her hand on the chest of a brightly smiling black man in a gray suit and cream dress shirt with a burgundy tie. “She has a lovely smile.”
So did Skylar, right now. He thumbed forward a few photos. “Here’s a group shot with her children.” He introduced Xander to Ellen and Tom’s five children, told him how old they were, who they had married, the names of their children and showed their baby photos.
“Wow, you really have a great relationship with them, it sounds like,” Xander said, when Skylar wound down.
Except that must have been the wrong thing to say, because Skylar’s face clouded again. “Ah, well, they were only my nannies. We keep in touch, is all.”
“Do you have pictures of your mother and father?” Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that, but he thought it might not be bad to be able to identify them.
Skylar pulled up another photo. “This is from a fundraiser a few years ago.”
Xander studied the glittering pair: the glowering, older, shorter gentleman and the tall, beautiful blond woman who looked as if she could be in her thirties—except as a portrait artist, Xander could tell she was, in fact, in her forties. “Wow. You look a lot like your mother. And you don’t look anything like your father.”
“People always say that.” Skylar reached across his plate to steal one of Xander’s fries. “Remember, only my mother will be at the fundraiser. Not that we’ll see much of her. She’s going to be busy wining and dining people.”
“The whole weekend? Really?”
Skylar nodded, brushing salt from his hands as he chewed and swallowed. “The most important guests will stay the night, and some of the others will return in the morning for brunch. Everything about this party is business.” He smiled wryly. “Everything about my mom’s life is business.”
“That’s pretty much the polar opposite of my mom. She’s a professional wife and mother. She has a job, technically, but all she cares about is making her family happy.”
As soon as he said the words, a shadow fell over his heart, and he wished he hadn’t said anything.
“That’s right. I’m so jealous of your care packages. Do they have little notes in the box and everything?”
Xander sent more fries to drown in tomato and vinegar, stirring them until they snapped. “She sends too many. I give them away most of the time.”
All of the time, but Skylar didn’t need to know that.
Skylar made a scandalized noise, and Xander glanced up. Skylar looked like a wounded puppy. An adorable wounded puppy. “Well, give the next box to me. I’ve always wanted a care package.” He leaned over his plate conspiratorially, anchoring his fork in his hot beef sandwich. “But you know what I really want?”
God, this guy was going to kill him dead. Yes, he knew what Mr. Anime Lover really wanted. “Someone to make you a bento.”
Skylar blushed. “I just like the little lunches. They’re so cute.”
And you like the idea of someone giving you attention. Xander couldn’t help noting that bentos were often given in anime to people characters had romantic interest in.
Did that mean Skylar was open to romantic interest, then? In general? Just romance, or maybe more? From Xander, or not? Only on Tuesdays?
Give me a map, dude. Forget the shrines. I want to know the way to you.
Xander forcibly derailed this train of thought before he wrecked himself. “Bentos are cute. Did you know they’re everywhere in Japan? You can get them at convenience stores. Can you imagine, being able to get a lunch like that at a 7-Eleven?”
“I know. I really wanted to add a Japanese minor, so I could go on the spring break trip to Kyoto, but my dad would have had a fit. At the very least it would be cool to watch anime and not have to read the subtitles. Right?”
Xander thought about playing along, then decided in the long run he’d get caught and it would be crueler. He made a small bow over his plate. “Hajimemashite. Boku wa Zandā Feachairudo desu. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.”
Too late, he realized this had been a tactical error after all. If he’d thought the looks Skylar had given him over his art were hungry… “You…you know Japanese?”
Xander had to swallow twice before he trusted himself to speak without his voice cracking. “Not tons, but some, yeah. I have trouble with native speakers, end up telling them yukkuri, onegaishimasu over and over—that’s please slow down—because my oral Japanese isn’t half as good as my written. I took Japanese I and II, but after that it’s been self-taught so I could read manga in the original Japanese. Kanji is a real bitch, though, I’m here to tell you. And I’m way out of practice. I was gung-ho my sophomore year, but last year I was too busy and I’m afraid I’ve lost a lot.” He read the expression on Skylar’s face, held up a hand, and headed off the question before he could ask. “No. I can’t give you Japanese lessons. I’m not good enough, and it would result in you knowing shit Japanese. You deserve better.”
“Teach me that bit you just did, at least. What did you say?”
God help him, Xander could not resist this man when he pleaded like that. He sighed and pushed his plate away. “Hajimemashite. That’s a greeting, like nice to meet you. And here’s the thing with Japanese, it’s phonetic, so listen to the syllables. It’s spelled the way it sounds too, which is handy. Ha-ji-me-ma-shi-te.”
Skylar planted his elbows on the table, and Xander got an image of Student Skylar. He was a sexy motherfucker. “Hajimemashite.”
Xander shook his head, his Japanese instructor’s lectures rushing back. “No. This is your next lesson about Japanese: in addition to being phonetic, it doesn’t have any kind of emphasis like we do. Well—okay, it does, but for our purposes right now what you need to know is it doesn’t have the same kind of hard lean on one syllable that our language does. Skylar. Japanese. When you say hajimemashite, make sure you keep each syllable even. Try again.” He clapped his hands in an even rhythm as he spoke. “Ha-ji-me-ma-shi-te.”
Skylar clapped too, speaking each syllable to the beat. “Hajimemashite.”
“Not bad. Okay. The next part is easy: I said, ‘I am Xander Fairchild.’” He wondered if he should explain that he’d used a masculine pronoun and if he should go back and start him at neutral watashi, then decided to hell with it, throw him right into boku.
“Okay, but you said your name differently.”
“Right. I used Japanese pronunciation.” He blushed. “That was me showing off, I’ll be honest.”
“No, that was cool! I want to know how to do that, please.”
They sat there another half an hour, Xander going against what he said and teaching Skylar his rudimentary, half-forgotten Japanese. They had to look up several things on Skylar’s phone, downloading two apps and a dictionary so Xander could give him a better pronunciation guide. Skylar gave him his phone’s password so he could continue to teach him while he drove.
“Explain the yoroshiku thing again?”
“Yoroshiku onegaishimasu.” Xander thumbed through the language app, looking for something cool to impress Skylar while he explained the phrase once more. “It’s not really translatable. Mostly you need to remember it’s what you say when you meet someone. I want to say literally it means ‘please be kind to me’ or something like that, but there’s cultural stuff that goes with it which won’t make sense to English speakers. Like how in Japan you say ‘I will likely be a burden’ when you go to someone’s house, and it’s just what you say. And the whole itadakimasu thing before a meal.”
“Yes. What does that mean? I couldn’t decide if it was a prayer, or what. They say it in all the anime, every time they eat anything! Even sometimes with juice boxes.”
“It means…damn, let me look it up, because I can’t remember, but it’s not a prayer.” Xander thumbed through the app. “Aha. It means, ‘about to receive.’ And at the end of the meal you say gochisōsama, which is more straightforward: thanks for the meal. But you need to say both. It’s rude if you don’t. There are a lot of dos and don’ts in Japanese.”
Skylar was so starry-eyed. If anyone did want to romance this man, nihongo was the way to do it. Art, bento, boxes of cookies, and Japanese lessons.
Well, sailor, you could do all of that, couldn’t you?
Xander was about to ask Skylar if he wanted to learn to count, having read through the numbers enough to feel confident about explaining the variants of four and seven and the others that had more than one way to say them, when the message-preview bubble popped over the top of the app screen.
Message: Tabitha West
Hey Sky I know you said you can’t but I really need you for a date this weekend, please, I’ll do anything. I promise the goods are off the charts.
The hamburger and fries lurched to Xander’s throat as his stomach hollowed out, and Skylar’s phone clattered to the floor.
Skylar glanced over, concerned. “Oh—you okay?”
Xander hugged his knees a moment while he fished for the phone, taking deep breaths to steady himself. What the fuck. What the fucking fuck. “Fine.” He took another breath, schooling himself with reserve honed after years of acute harassment. You don’t sound fine. Fake it harder, or he’ll figure it out. “Okay, maybe not fine. I think I must have eaten something bad, though. Feeling a little off.”
“Oh no, I’m sorry. Do you need to stop somewhere?”
Yes. A bus station. Except he had twenty dollars in his bank account. He could call Zelda and ask for help. They’d give it, but he’d never hear the end of it. Worth it?
Maybe.
Skylar winced as he got a look at the dashboard clock. “I didn’t realize how late it was.” He grinned, the real one that melted Xander, or had before he realized this was fake too. “It was worth it, though. I love the Japanese lessons. I’m so glad you could come with me this weekend. There’s no one else I’d want to have with me.”
Five minutes ago, that would have sent Xander over the moon. But now all he could think of was that fucking text.
I’ll do anything. I promise the goods are off the charts.
He turned away to face the window, hoping his face wasn’t reflected in anything, because this fucking hurt. His heart lurched, threatening to break, but he steeled himself. Not now. Later for that. Not in a car, not with him here.
The whispering voice tried to speak up, tried to tell him he was overreacting, but he shut it down. How else was he supposed to read that text? It didn’t get more goddamned black and white than that.
“Something’s wrong.”
Xander startled at the tension in Skylar’s tone, almost forgetting to censor his expression before he turned. He knew better than to look him in the eye, carefully keeping his focus on the dash. “I told you. Upset stomach—”
“No. Your body language doesn’t say sick. It says you’re angry. You went from relaxed to closed off with no warning. What happened? What did I do? Did I say something?”
Shit, he should have thought of that. Xander wasn’t used to bullshitting Silver Stone. He floundered, trying to recover. “No, I feel bad that I’m going to be sick at your mom’s thing, is all—”
“The phone. Someone messaged me, didn’t they?”
It annoyed Xander that the asshole sounded pissed, not chagrined at being found out. “Tabitha says she really needs a date. She’ll do anything. You might want to take her up on it. Apparently the goods are off the charts.”
“Fuck.” Skylar’s face screwed up in fury and…agony. He slammed his hand on the dashboard, startling Xander, and he swerved so hard the car beside them laid on its horn and flipped them off. “Fuck.”
Xander had no idea what was happening or how to react. He was totally lost now. What he did know was that he didn’t want to die on the freeway in Connecticut. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not my business what you do.”
“That’s not—” Skylar swerved again, and this time two cars honked at them.
Xander made a tactical decision. “Hey—it’s fine, okay? If you want to tell me about Tabitha, we can do it when you’re not in a position to kill us both. Okay?”
Skylar was clearly not okay. Xander had never seen him this unhinged, not even that day he’d come over in sweats. “It’s not what you think.” He ran a hand down his face, looking ready to cry.
Part of Xander still wanted to hold back, hurt by what he’d seen, but the lion’s share of him didn’t need that instinctive voice anymore. If Tabitha herself were waiting at this lobster bullshit party with a herd of sorority girls to laugh at Xander for thinking he had a chance with her boyfriend, right now, here in this car, he couldn’t stop empathizing with Skylar. Something was wrong here. There was more to this story.
Except why had she texted him that? Why did Skylar get texts like that? And why did he look so guilty?
Why the hell had Xander agreed to come five hours from home, where he couldn’t run back to his hermitage when things went south?
Because you love him.
Yeah, well, look where love had fucking got him.