Chapter Five
“Okay.” Mark choked on his lungful of smoke. “Fuck. That shit is strong.”
Brandon smiled at him. To be honest, he wasn’t sure he could manage anything more than that at this particular moment. Speech was definitely beyond him, floating just out of reach where everything was a little bit fuzzy around the edges.
The pool shed at Alpha Delt wasn’t the best place for getting high—that was the zoo, definitely—but it worked on short notice, so long as you didn’t mind sitting on a half-deflated raft that smelled like chlorine. Brandon didn’t mind at all. It was late afternoon, and the dust motes shone like glitter in the golden light, and everything was pretty fucking perfect actually.
Mark flopped back onto the raft. He rubbed his abdomen. “Fuck. I should call Deke.”
Normal people got hungry.
Not Mark.
Mark got horny.
“He’s doing some pledge thing,” Brandon said. With Alex.
Mark stuck his bottom lip out. “But I want him to come and do dirty things to me.”
Brandon snickered. He liked it when he was high enough that it took the edge off everything. Where he wasn’t so sensitive that everything was a fucking trigger. Bang. And he was right back there. Not just thinking about it, but there. Fucking eidetic memory wouldn’t let a single detail go.
“Dude.” He watched Mark slide a hand down the front of his jeans. “If you’re gonna do that, I’m out of here.”
“My balls are itchy.”
“I don’t care. Keep your itchy balls to yourself.”
Mark grinned at him and pulled his hand free. He popped the button on his fly in the process, and Brandon blinked. Pretty sure he caught a glimpse of lace. Mark made a funny noise and wrenched his fly closed. He fumbled with the button for a while.
Brandon took another drag on the joint. “Um.” He passed it to Mark.
“Okay,” Mark said. “Busted.”
“Um,” Brandon repeated.
“So, sometimes I wear women’s underwear.” Mark said it like it was nothing. So, sometimes I catch the bus. “It feels pretty awesome, and it drives Deke out of his fucking mind.”
“Okay.” Brandon wasn’t sure if the buzzing in his head was from the joint, or from Too Much Information. “That’s cool, you know.”
It wasn’t really cool. It was weird. Except, the more Brandon thought about it, the more he was jealous of Mark. Not for wearing women’s underwear—anyone could do that, he guessed—but for being so unapologetic about it. Shame was a foreign concept to Mark. Like Fahrenheit, gallons, or putting bacon on doughnuts.
“Turns out I’m fairly kinky,” Mark said matter-of-factly.
Fairly, Brandon had learned, was Australian understatement for absofuckinglutely.
“That’s cool,” Brandon said again, promising himself he wasn’t going to freak out about this. He could talk about sex with his best friend. Even sex involving women’s underwear but no women. It was, at least in theory, totally possible to have a frank and open discussion about sex without having to view the accompanying mental pictures in excruciating detail.
Mark struggled to sit up, the raft squelching and squeaking underneath him. “Fuck. I’m so baked. Deke’s gonna put on his cranky pants.”
“Is that like another weird underwear thing?”
“What?”
“Cranky pants.” Brandon grinned. “Are they like Incredible Hulk Underoos?”
“What the fuck are Underoos?” Mark stared at him. “If there’s some form of underwear I don’t know about it, I demand you tell me this instant!”
“It’s kids’ underwear. Like, um, pants and a top. With a superhero or some character on it. I had, um, Scooby Doo.”
“Of course you did,” Mark said. “So, not sexy underwear?”
“No. I kept getting Scooby Doo underwear way after I’d outgrown it.” Brandon reached for the joint and froze suddenly. Felt the blood drain from his face. Saw himself looking down at his skinny legs, at the hairy hand sliding up toward Scooby Doo. He couldn’t breathe, now or then. “Oh, fuck.”
“Bran?” Mark’s voice was suddenly sharp.
“Sorry.” Brandon hunched over to try to catch his breath. “Remember the other day when I said I’m not falling apart?”
“Yeah.” Mark rubbed his back, and Brandon had to fight not to flinch away.
“I think that maybe I’m more fucked up than I thought,” he said into his knees. He wanted to vomit, and it had nothing to do with how much he’d smoked. “I think… I think maybe I should look into that Prescott Cares thing.”
“Yeah,” Mark said. “I think that’s a fairly good idea.”
Absofuckinglutely.
* * * *
Omigod.
Alex was going to die. He was blindfolded, and standing at the top of a set of stairs, and he was totally going to fall down them. He was going to break his neck, and his parents would have to sue the school just in order to pay for his funeral. Which nobody would come to. Then, months later, people in New Salem would say, “Hey, did you hear what happened to that Alex kid from high school?” And the other people would say, “Who?”
“Stop there,” Deacon Holt said. “Okay, turn to your right. No, your other right.”
Alex’s face got hot underneath the blindfold.
“Okay, it’s six steps down. I’m in front of you, so you’re not going to fall. Just take it slow, okay?”
“Okay,” Alex said, and promptly stood on the toe of his own sneaker.
Deacon caught him by the shoulders before he accidentally dived down the steps. “You know, if you wanted to peek, just until we got past the steps, I would pretend not to notice.”
“I’m not very good with trust exercises.” Alex pushed the blindfold up and squinted in the sudden brightness. “At this church camp when I was a kid, we did this one where you were meant to fall backward and everyone would catch you.”
Deacon looked apprehensive.
“Yeah.” Alex made a face. “Nobody caught me.”
“That’s harsh.”
“Well, they were my cousins, so I kind of knew they’d be dicks about it.” Alex scraped the sole of his sneaker across the step. “Anyway, I thought you weren’t supposed to do dangerous stuff to pledges.”
Deacon laughed. “Well, it’s not supposed to be dangerous. I’m supposed to lead you around campus for a while and not run you into any walls, and then we go back to the house and have soda and hot dogs.”
“I’m kind of a klutz,” Alex admitted.
“No worries.” Deacon, poised in case he needed to catch Alex again, waited until Alex was all the way down the steps before he spoke next. “So how are you liking Prescott so far?”
Alex slid the blindfold back in place. “It’s good. I’m, uh, trying out for the Academic Challenge team next weekend.”
“The Phi Sig team?”
“Yeah. I mean, Tony said pledges are allowed, so…”
“Absolutely! Awesome. We’ve been trying to get Brandon to give it a try.”
“Oh, uh, really?” Alex tried to keep his heart rate normal and his voice below a squeak.
“Keep coming forward,” Deacon instructed. “Yeah, maybe you could talk him into it.”
“I…” Alex took a tentative step forward, not sure what to say.
“He’s incredibly smart, but he doesn’t get out much.” Alex could hear the grin in Deacon’s voice. “Like most of us.”
“I could, I mean, I could try to talk to him. I don’t know if it would work. I mean, I don’t know when I’d see hi—” Alex stepped on something that crunched. “Omigod, what’s that?”
“Beer can.”
Alex listened to Deacon lean down to pick it up.
“Did you do quiz bowl in high school?” Deacon asked.
“Yeah, I was on my school’s team.” The team had been number one in the region, with Alex MVP three years in a row; no need to brag.
“See, I didn’t do it in high school. And last year I was having some family trouble, so I missed out. Pole coming up; move to your right.”
Alex swerved violently. “I’ll bet it’s really fun to do it at a college level. I’ll tell Brandon that.”
“He’d be an asset to the team, for sure. He’s got an eidetic memory.”
Alex stopped. “Are you serious?” So Brandon would remember every stupid thing Alex had said or done forever?
“Yeah.”
“Wow.” Alex chewed his lip. “That’s…wow.”
It was incredible. Almost like a superpower. Of course Brandon had an amazing brain to go with everything else about him that was amazing: his face, his body, the way he smelled. God, if Alex still had that T-shirt, he would have worn through the fabric by now.
“Okay, we’re on the homestretch now. We’re coming up to the edge of the sidewalk in about four more steps. Watch out for the—”
Too late.
Alex, busy thinking about Brandon and not at all paying attention to Deacon, dived over the edge of the gutter and landed on his hands and knees on the asphalt.
Omigod.
And ouch.
* * * *
When Brandon and Mark headed back to Phi Sig for hot dogs and sodas with the pledges, they found Alex sitting on Deacon’s bed while Deacon knelt on the floor between his knees.
“Well,” Mark drawled from the doorway. “I should have guessed. Deacon Holt, you two-timing bastard.”
Alex jerked back. “Oh, God, no, I—”
“He’s teasing,” Deacon said, twisting around to glare at Mark. He turned back to Alex. “And…yeah, he’s high.”
Brandon stepped closer, and winced at the sight of Alex’s bloody knees. His hands didn’t look much better. “What happened?”
“I’m kind of a klutz,” Alex said.
“The trust walk did not go exactly as planned,” Deacon added.
Brandon hissed in sympathy as Deacon used a pair of tweezers to pick a piece of gravel out of Alex’s knee. Blood seeped from the wound.
“I don’t know.” Mark looked thoughtful. “It seems like he trusted you enough to walk right into a wall.”
“I fell off the sidewalk,” Alex said.
Mark sat on the bed beside Alex. “That’s not a proper word, mate. It’s footpath. It’s the path where your feet go.”
Brandon snorted. “No, it’s sidewalk. It’s the side of the road where you walk.”
Mark rolled his eyes. “Bran, Jesus, I can’t keep having this same fight with you. It’s like you won’t even listen to reason.”
Brandon folded his arms over his chest, flushing as Alex looked up at him, and he remembered in a rush of heat exactly how Alex’s lips had felt against his own. Warm, and soft, but with a pressure behind them that someone else might have willingly returned. He remembered how he’d put his hand on Alex’s chest to push him away, and Alex’s hard nipple had grazed his palm. God, he could still feel it now. He rubbed his hand on his hip to get rid of the itch, to exorcise the ghost of the touch, then looked down at his palm. He almost expected to see some sign of it on him. A bruise, maybe. When he looked up again, Alex was looking at Mark.
“Why is it called a footpath and not a feetpath?” Alex asked.
“What?”
“Um, shouldn’t it be called a feetpath if it’s where your feet go?”
Brandon laughed.
“Look, I don’t make the rules,” Mark said. “I didn’t even know there was such a thing as Underoos until today.”
Deacon shook his head. “How much did you smoke?”
“Just enough that my head is full of old poetry, melancholy music, and dreams that dare to touch the divine.” Mark smiled winningly. “Also, are those hot dogs just for you nerds and your pledges or can I get one as well?”
“You can get one.” Deacon unscrewed the lid of the rubbing alcohol and looked up at Alex again. “Okay, this is going to sting.”
Alex winced as Deacon dabbed alcohol on his knees. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Ouch. Ouch.”
Mark snickered.
Alex opened his eyes again, glaring.
Brandon shot Mark a narrow look. “Mark, why don’t you go downstairs and get everyone a hot dog?”
“That is your best idea so far today.” Mark bounded to his feet. “Well, your second best.” He shot past Brandon and thumped down the stairs. “Nerds! I’m coming for your hot dogs!”
“Mark can be kind of a dick when he’s high,” Brandon said. “Usually I take him to the zoo and distract him with meerkats.”
“Oh.” Alex made a face as Deacon dabbed at his knees again.
Deacon glanced up. “I never thought I’d say this, but, Brandon, please stop being a bad influence on my boyfriend. Because he really doesn’t need any help in that department.”
Brandon tried to look anywhere but at Alex. “Sorry. He just really likes the meerkats.”
Deacon sighed. “I know.”
Either Mark needed to come back now with hot dogs, or Brandon needed to go downstairs and see if he needed any help. A collective roar from down in the living room told Brandon that Mark wouldn’t be back anytime soon. Only Mark could get a bunch of Phi Sigs to cheer for some stupid display of stoned Aussie machismo like they were the Alpha Delts.
“You were gonna look for your notes from that soc class?” Brandon asked Deacon tentatively. Normally Brandon remembered lectures well enough that he didn’t have to take notes, but he had trouble concentrating in this class. It was a sophomore seminar called Sociology of the Family, and Brandon wouldn’t have taken it except that he’d needed to take something and his advisor had said students liked this one. Deacon had taken the class last year and had agreed to let Brandon have a look at his notes before the first quiz next week.
“You bet. Kekoa, you’re good to go.” Deacon clapped Alex on the leg, and Brandon felt a flash of…jealousy? Not possible.
How the fuck could he be jealous of Deacon touching Alex when Brandon didn’t want to touch Alex—or anybody?
It had to be the pot.
“I’m gonna go down and see what happened to Mark,” Brandon said faintly. “I already told Tony, and he said to tell you—I can’t do the team tryouts this weekend because I’m going home.”
“The Academic Challenge tryouts?” Alex spoke up. He glanced at Deacon and then back to Brandon.
“Yeah.” It was getting loud downstairs. Maybe Brandon didn’t want to see what had happened to Mark after all. “Tony wants me to be on the team.”
Alex widened his eyes. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Finally mumbled something under his breath that sounded like, “It’d be lots of fun, I bet.”
“You should consider it, Bran,” Deacon said. “You’d be good at it, and you’d enjoy it too. Tony’s got it in his head that we can beat Theta Chi this year, but mostly we’re just there to have fun.”
A crash from downstairs.
Sudden silence.
Then, “Deacon?” James’s voice floated up the stairs. “Have you got the first-aid kit?”
“Shit.” Deacon rose to his feet. “Shit.” He hurried out of the room.
Leaving Brandon and Alex alone.
Brandon wiped his suddenly damp palms on the thighs of his jeans and tried to think of something to say.
“Um, okay then,” Alex said first, standing up. “I’m gonna go get a hot dog. It was good to see you, Brandon.” He slipped past Brandon.
“Yeah, you too.” For once, it didn’t seem like a lie.
* * * *
By the time Alex made it down the steps, his knees hurting every time they bent, the couch had been righted and Mark was sitting on it, a hot dog in each hand. He had a bandage stuck over the end of his right eyebrow.
“I was just saying, that’s not couch surfing, this is couch surfing,” he said. He moved to stand up again, and Deacon pulled him back down.
Alex went into the kitchen to get a hot dog. Anabelle the Lab followed him.
He wanted a boyfriend, but he didn’t want one like Mark. Mark seemed like he would be a lot of effort. Alex couldn’t ever imagine him being quiet. If this was what he was like when he was stoned, how much worse could he be hyped up? Alex wanted someone less crazy.
He wanted Brandon.
Stupid crush was stupid.
Brandon wasn’t interested, but that was okay, wasn’t it? Alex was no worse off than he’d been before. He could still fantasize his heart out when he jerked off and pretend it was Brandon’s hand on his dick instead of his own. Pretend those were Brandon’s fingers pressing against his ass, teasing him and scaring him with the idea of penetration at the same time.
Alex sighed.
Stupid crush.
Maybe what he needed to do was make some friends at the GSA, or actually work up the courage to go to a club or something. Maybe he’d be less hung up on Brandon if he actually got laid. That would be the smart thing to do: get laid by some nice enough stranger he had no intentions of ever seeing again, so that it didn’t matter if he was embarrassingly bad. Except Alex wasn’t brave enough to do that. And maybe a part of him didn’t really want to. Maybe a part of him was holding out for someone who thought he mattered, just a bit.
Yeah, he thought as he ate his hot dog. One bite for him and one bite for the dog. One for him and one for the dog. Yeah, he just wanted someone who thought he mattered.