Chapter Nine
“Blake’s acting weird.” Mark narrowed his eyes as Blake hurried up the steps clutching shopping bags to his massive chest.
“Weird, how?” Brandon set the controller down. He was getting tired of killing zombies anyway. He’d come over to Alpha Delta to help Mark with his English lit essay, not save the world from the hordes of the undead. Even though that was a lot more fun.
“He’s all secretive and stuff.” Mark squinted at the screen. “Shit. I’m out of ammo. And…and now I’m dead.” He tossed the controller on the couch. “I think he’s pissed off that I didn’t ask him to join the Killer Numbats.”
“What is a numbat, anyway?”
“As if I’d tell that to the enemy! What if it comes up in the Academic Challenge?”
“That’s not very likely.”
“Okay. In that case, I think it’s probably a marsupial.”
“You think?”
“I’m pretty sure it has a stripey arse.” Mark grabbed a handful of chips from the bowl. “Anyway, are you on the Phi Sig team or what?”
Brandon thought of Alex. “No. It’s Tony, Deacon, Alex, Reuben, and Matt. So, you know, that’s a pretty good team.”
“So they shut you out just because you couldn’t make tryouts?”
“I told them I didn’t want to try out.”
“Why not? You’re nerdy. I mean, smart.”
“Shut up.”
“Deacon told me they’d have given you a separate tryout day.”
“Uh-huh, and then have Drew complaining that I got more time than everyone else to practice? No thanks.”
Mark shoved more chips in his mouth. “So you don’t want to be on the team?”
Brandon hesitated. “No.”
Mark looked at him.
“It’s too late now anyway,” Brandon said defensively. “The team’s set. I can’t ask them to redo tryouts to give me a shot.”
And I can’t let someone give me their spot out of some misplaced sense of fair play. Brandon had the idea that if he asked Alex for a spare kidney, Alex would rip one straight out of his body and offer it up with a smile.
Brandon really didn’t want to think about Alex at the moment. Not after he’d already thought about him for most of a sleepless night, during every class he’d had today, and during an entire session with Kay at the Prescott Cares program. Not that he’d told Kay about Alex. He wasn’t ready to share that yet. But they’d talked a little about touching and hugging, and how he needed to focus on staying in the moment instead of letting his brain wrench him straight back into the past. He couldn’t make the past disappear, but he needed to find a way to break its hold on him.
He couldn’t overwrite his memory, but he could stop it from being the default setting.
Kay had talked to him about how he felt when he hugged his family. Or they hugged him. She told him that when it was happening, he should say to himself, This is Mom. This is Mom. This is Mom. He had to anchor himself in the present.
“Can I try something?” he asked suddenly.
“What?” Mark asked, spraying chips.
“You’re so gross.” Brandon reached out and took his hand, making a face at Mark’s look of surprise. “Don’t panic. I’m not going to ask you to go steady.”
Mark looked suddenly, achingly worried. For him, Brandon thought. Mark was worried for him.
This is Mark. This is Mark. This is Mark.
Felt kind of dumb.
Mark tightened his grip slightly, curling his fingers through Brandon’s. Brandon felt a dark wave of nausea rise in him. His skin itched as sensation threatened to overwhelm him. Brandon fought back.
This is Mark.
He held Mark’s gaze, and Mark grinned at him.
Brandon couldn’t help from grinning back. He tugged his hand free.
“Come on,” Mark said. “Do I get a hug? A victory hug?”
Brandon bumped his shoulder. “Maybe next time.”
“Cool.” Mark held the bowl of chips out to him.
Brandon grabbed some, then twisted around on the couch as someone entered the common room. A polo and khakis. A sallow, serious face that always looked slightly uncomfortable. “Hi, Jackson.”
“Hi.”
“I hear you’re in the Killer Numbats.”
Jackson rolled his eyes. “Yeah.”
“He didn’t want to be a numbat, but I phoned Jim,” Mark said. Jim was Mark’s stepfather and Jackson’s uncle. “What? Jackson’s got a really good GPA. And he knows how many states there are and everything.”
Jackson shook his head. “Phi Sig and Theta Chi are going to crush us. Hell, the Tea Club is going to crush us.”
“They’d better not,” Mark said. “I mean, we’ll find things to spend the money on either way. But I’d like to spend it on a bus.”
“Bus?” Brandon repeated. “Money? What are you talking about?”
Mark glanced at Brandon, then at Jackson. “We might as well tell him.”
Jackson shrugged.
“Tell me what?” Brandon asked. “What have you done?”
“Check this out.” Mark grabbed his laptop, typed something, and turned the screen toward Brandon. Mark was logged into FundMe.com. The page was titled “Numbats V. Nerds” The subheading read “Sponsor a Numbat.”
The rest of the page outlined the Killer Numbats’ plan to defeat Prescott’s nerd contingent in this year’s Academic Challenge tournament, and urged people to donate to the underdogs. It was complete with a video that Mark made Brandon watch in its entirety, featuring the members of the Killer Numbats making sad eyes behind iron bars while Sarah McLachlan played in the background. Jackson’s sad face, it turned out, looked a lot like his happy face, and his angry face, and his neutral face. Brandon had never really realized how infrequently Jackson’s face changed. The video ended with a message that for just ten cents a day, viewers could help a Numbat in need—but that a hundred dollars right now would be even better.
“What is this?” Brandon asked.
“It’s our Fund Me project,” Mark said. “We’re raising money for our team. Look, we’ve already got three hundred dollars.”
“What the hell?” Brandon stared at the page. The Killer Numbats did indeed have $306 in anonymous donations. “Why do you need money? This is a quiz bowl, not a political campaign. You don’t win by being popular, you win by being smart.”
“You can always win by being popular.” Mark grabbed the laptop back. “We figure if we make it to regionals, we’ll spend the money on renting a tour bus. And if we don’t make it, we’ll spend the money on beer and pizza. And a new lamp for the living room.”
“What happened to the old lamp?” Brandon was pretty sure he didn’t want to know.
Mark ignored the question. “If I were you, mate, I wouldn’t bother with the Phi Sig team. You don’t want to go down with that ship.”
Jackson rolled his eyes again. “We don’t have a prayer. But I came to tell you the bull is here.”
Mark stood. “Seriously?”
Jackson nodded curtly and left.
“Mark,” Brandon said. “What bull? What is he talking about?”
“Er. Just something for the campaign.”
Brandon followed Mark into the hall. “It’s not a campaign, remember?”
Mark was already halfway down the stairs.
* * * *
Alex grinned at his laptop screen. He was now Facebook friends with Brandon Mills. And that felt pretty fucking good. Next step: changing his relationship status from “single” to “it’s complicated.” Not that he’d ever do that. That’d be like a red flag to Mara and the rest of the family. The last thing Alex needed was everyone jumping all over his wall demanding to know who he was seeing (Mara), if he’d gotten laid yet (his cousins), and how soon they could meet his boyfriend (his mom).
Alex looked at Brandon’s profile, searching for clues. A handful of photos, mostly posted by other people. Brandon at an Alpha Delt mixer. Brandon at the Economics Department’s annual Halloween party—not in costume. A couple of Mills family holiday pictures: Brandon sitting at the Thanksgiving table, leaning way out of his chair to get in the frame with two pretty blonde girls—his sisters. They had to be. Opening a present at Christmas while a tall, serious-faced man looked on.
Very few status updates—most of his timeline posts were just people sharing links or photos with him. Brandon’s About section didn’t offer much information either. No sexual orientation, no religious views, no relationship status…just Milford. And he’d put Boiler Room as a favorite movie. Alex could live with that.
Alex was just about to close his laptop when a message appeared.
It was from Deacon.
Hey. Come over to the house? Tony wants to see you about the AC.
For a second Alex wondered why Tony would want to talk to him about the air conditioner, but then he realized. The Academic Challenge.
Ok! he typed back and hurried to get ready. He pulled on a cleanish hoodie over his slightly less cleanish T-shirt and wiped the Count Chocula dust off his jeans. He shoved his feet into his sneakers and shoved the laces inside without bothering to tie them.
Important fraternity business awaited!
Or, hopefully, another chance to see Brandon and maybe kiss him again.
At the door, Alex stopped. He retraced his steps to his bed and picked up his Sinosauropteryx.
Just in case.
* * * *
At the Phi Sig House, members of the Academic Challenge team were in the common room, posed like the movie poster for some bizarre college dark comedy: Deacon unsmiling by the couch, Matt slumped, unsmiling, in the armchair, Tony sitting too straight on the sofa. And so on. A few other Phi Sigs were on the other side of the room, watching a video online.
And Brandon.
Alex almost hadn’t noticed him over in the corner.
He also wasn’t smiling.
“What’s going on?” Alex asked. “Why does everyone look so unhappy?”
“It’s nothing,” Deacon said. “I mean, no one’s unhappy.”
Alex saw one of the guys who was watching the video—Drew, Alex thought his name was—look their way.
Deacon smiled, but he still looked a little tense. “We just wanted to introduce you to our new team member.” He indicated Brandon.
Omigod. What? Seriously, what was going on? “What…I mean…?”
“Well,” Deacon said. “There’s a lot of other stuff I want to concentrate on this semester. I’m trying for a spot on the Interfraternity Council, and I’m picking up more hours at work, so I’d like to withdraw from the team. And we figured since a spot was opening up, we could let Brandon try out, since—”
“You figured,” Drew shot from across the room.
Silence.
Alex hadn’t been pledging long, but he knew enough of Phi Sig to know that fights among the brothers were as rare as study sessions among the Alpha Delts. “A bunch of quantum mechanics-obsessed hippies,” Alex had heard Mark call them.
“Drew.” Tony sounded annoyed.
“Well, I’m just saying. He said he didn’t want to try out. He missed tryout day. So if Deke wants to give up his spot on the team, it ought to go to me. My score was the next highest at tryouts.”
Alex’s stomach sank. He hated fighting. And he couldn’t help feeling like he’d somehow caused this by urging Brandon to rethink his position on Academic Challenge. But at the same time, he was elated that Brandon had tried out. And that his score had been higher than Drew’s. Of course it had been. It was probably higher than anyone on the team’s, Alex’s included. Alex felt a burst of pride for Brandon, which made no sense, because it wasn’t like Brandon was his…
Well, Brandon was his Facebook friend. Alex was allowed to be proud of his Facebook friend.
“And Brandon’s happened to be higher,” Tony said mildly. But Alex could hear the irritation in his tone. They’d clearly been over this already.
“Because he had two extra days to practice! And he didn’t have the stress of being surrounded by competitors.”
“Oh, lay off, Drew.” Matt lifted his arm and let it fall. “It’s done, okay?”
“Easy for you to say! You’re on the team.”
Alex tried to make eye contact with Brandon, but didn’t have much luck. Brandon looked embarrassed and like he’d rather be anywhere else right now. Maybe after this, uh…meeting, or whatever this was, Alex could take him somewhere. Out to dinner, or for a walk around campus, or…or back to his room. Alex’s heart rate went up. Was Gavin out at the video game thing tonight?
Alex sidled around the wall toward Brandon’s corner of the room, leaving the other guys to glare at each other.
“Well, hey, glad to have you on the team, Brandon,” Alex said, his voice a little high. He hoped he hadn’t just made a mortal enemy of Drew.
Brandon still looked worried.
Alex shifted a little closer. “Um, isn’t Mark gonna be annoyed too?”
“Yep.” Brandon chewed his lower lip. “I mean, the only reason Mark got a team together was to try and rile Deacon up.” He straightened. Squared his shoulders. “You know what?”
“What?” Alex asked cautiously.
“I don’t care,” Brandon said, quietly enough that the others couldn’t hear. He smiled. “I don’t care about the Killer Numbats. I don’t care if Mark’s pissed. I don’t care if Drew is. I’m actually pretty fucking tired of feeling bad for things I can’t help, you know?”
“Sure.” Alex had no idea what he was talking about.
“I wanted to be on the team, so I’m on the team.” Brandon crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s all that counts.”
“Okay.”
“And right now, I want to celebrate by getting high.” Brandon lowered his voice. “And maybe fool around a bit. With you.”
Omigod.
Wait, no.
Holy fuck.
Better.
Alex opened his mouth to say something cool and clever, but kind of squeaked instead. “O-okay! Except…”
Brandon’s newfound confidence visibly faltered. “Except what?”
“I promised my mom I wouldn’t do drugs.” Alex swallowed. “But I really, really want to make out and stuff with you.”
“Cool,” Brandon said.
“And my roommate’s out tonight.”
“Then let’s get out of here.”
Holy fuck.
Maybe he wouldn’t need that Sinosauropteryx after all.
* * * *
Courage was overrated. Brandon lost most of his on the walk from Phi Sig to Hugelmann Hall. What he’d told Alex was true. He was tired of feeling bad for the stuff he couldn’t help. He was tired of being scared. But it was one thing to realize it and another thing entirely to shed that fear. He wanted to touch Alex, to kiss him again, and it wasn’t fair that he knew exactly where that would take him.
Twelve years old, and so scared that first time he peed himself.
“So, I have issues,” he said as Alex unlocked his door. Tried to make light of them, to keep them from sinking their hooks into his brain. Tried to stay in the now, like Kay had told him. “If I freak out, don’t take it personally, okay?”
Alex looked dubious.
Brandon couldn’t blame him. “You know how last time I said ‘It’s not you, it’s me?’ Well, I kind of need you to remember that.”
They went into Alex’s room. It smelled…kind of chocolaty. Clothes littered the floor. A thing of deodorant was on its side on the desk, the cap off, and a box of Count Chocula stuck out of someone’s underwear drawer. Brandon had forgotten how grateful he was to be out of the dorms.
“Which side is yours?” he asked.
Alex pointed to the Count-Chocula-and-deodorant side. “Sorry for the mess.” He flipped on the desk lamp. Stared at Brandon. Dark eyes. Long lashes. Brandon swallowed. “Is it because you’re nervous?” Alex asked softly. “Is that why you want to get high first?”
Brandon hesitated. Nodded once.
“You don’t have to be nervous.” Alex shifted. “I’m easy. I mean—not like that. I mean, I don’t want anything from you that you don’t—that you don’t want to do. You know? Like, if you just want to lie in bed and watch stuff on my computer, that’s fine.”
They did that. Lay in the lofted bed with Alex pressed against the wall and Brandon perilously close to the edge of the narrow mattress. Unless he stayed really close to Alex. Then he wasn’t in so much danger of rolling off. His head was basically cradled in Alex’s armpit, and he could feel the soft fabric of Alex’s T-shirt against his arm. They watched some dumb SyFy channel movie about a beast that was half crocodile, half python. Alex seemed engrossed. Brandon kept staring at Alex’s hand, resting on his stomach. He watched it go up and down as Alex breathed.
He wanted this, but at the same time he was so scared. He wanted to prove to himself he could do it but, more than that, he wanted Alex. Wanted to touch him and have that touch feel good for both of them. Wanted to kiss him again, to sink into that place where the world shrank down to nothing but the warm press of Alex’s mouth, his breath, and his touch. He wanted that place to be safe, to be unassailable. He was so scared it wouldn’t be, but there was only one way to know.
Quit putting it off.
Brandon carefully raised his hand and placed it over Alex’s.
He wished he had some pot.
But only for a few seconds. Alex turned his hand so they could lace their fingers. Brandon put his other hand on Alex’s thigh. Stroked slowly back and forth. Heard, over the sounds of unlucky scientists being devoured, the quickening of Alex’s breath as Brandon moved closer to his groin.
Big, hairy hand, moving up a skinny leg.
He closed his eyes. No.
This is Alex. This is Alex.
Brandon slid his hand up over Alex’s crotch, the denim of his jeans thin and worn. Soft. Alex made a weird sound as Brandon’s palm grazed the denim over his dick—like a squeak he’d tried to swallow at the last minute. Brandon pressed his hand down quickly—This is Alex—then moved it quickly up to Alex’s hip. Felt most of his tension bleed away as he got safely out the other side of the danger zone of Alex’s crotch.
But he was braver for having gone through it. Here he was, his hand resting on Alex’s hip, and it felt fine. Better than fine. It felt good.
Alex’s hand covered his, and Brandon opened his eyes.
“I haven’t done anything before,” Alex whispered, eyes big.
Brandon didn’t know how to answer that. Me neither? Because that wasn’t true, however much he wished it was.
But Alex didn’t wait for an answer. “I want to though, if you do.”
“I like you,” Brandon said. “I think I like you a lot. But I don’t…want to.”
Now, or ever. He didn’t care if he died a virgin. He’d told himself that for years. It was a big enough deal that he was letting Alex touch him. Even if no one else understood why it was a big deal, he did. But anything more than this? No. Just…no. He wasn’t ready for that. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready. He needed to put the brakes on this before it went any farther. Before his fear overtook his bravery and left him panicked and exposed in front of Alex.
“Okay.” Alex swallowed. “This is nice.”
Brandon drew on his remaining courage. “I want to kiss you again though.”
Alex smiled. “Okay.”
Brandon rolled toward him, keeping that one hand on his hip. Alex shifted, and suddenly Brandon had one leg wedged between Alex’s, and was lying almost on top of him. They kissed, hesitantly at first, awkwardly. It took a moment to line their mouths up, to stop their noses from getting in the way. Then Alex reached up and put his hand on Brandon’s cheek, and Brandon had never felt so close to anyone before in his life.
His courage swelled, filling him, and suddenly Brandon knew that he could go farther. He could go as far as he wanted. And Alex made him want more than he’d ever wanted before in his life.
This is Alex.
Alex. Alex. Alex.
And he wasn’t repeating it in his head to keep himself in the moment. He was repeating it because it was something new and wonderful, and he could hardly believe it was real. That Alex was real. This sweet, funny, smart, clumsy freshman who tasted like Count Chocula.
Alex kissed with his mouth closed, and Brandon appreciated that. He wasn’t sure he was ready to figure out tongue yet. He ran his free hand through Alex’s hair, and Alex gave a soft sigh. Opened his eyes and looked at Brandon hazily.
Brandon knew he had a lot of pent-up fear. But he’d never realized how much pent-up affection he possessed. He suddenly wanted to give Alex anything—everything—Alex needed to be happy. Private jokes, romantic evenings, a thousand million plastic dinosaurs.
He’d rarely had a chance to show another person that he could be something other than awkward and anxious. Mark was probably the closest thing he had to someone who knew the real him—whatever the hell that meant. Brandon wanted to show Alex a better side of himself—more open and generous, more confident, more…just more.
He could feel Alex’s erection pressing against his hip. Brandon was hard too, and, God, dizzy. All his fear, his panic and, underneath it, his arousal, wrapped tightly around him and squeezed his breath out of his chest.
He pulled away from the kiss and tucked his head under Alex’s chin.
“You okay?” Alex whispered.
Brandon nodded rapidly. His heart was going too fast, and he had an erection, but he was okay. His skin prickled, and he shivered, but once he pushed his fear away—This is Alex. This is Alex. This is Alex—it felt good. He should have known. Millions of people in the world knew how good it felt to kiss someone, to press their body against another person’s, so why the hell did Brandon feel like he was the first person in the history of humanity who’d made this epic discovery?
He pulled his head up to kiss Alex again, but then he heard the key in the door, and a second later, a boy with curly hair and stooped shoulders walked in. He paused, staring up at the lofted bed, at Alex and Brandon. Brandon froze. The guy’s mouth fell open. “I’m sorry.” He turned around. “I’ll just…” He spun again. “I actually need my…um, computer…” He grabbed it off the desk. Glanced at Alex. “Dude, can’t you put a sock on the door or something?”
“We’re fully clothed!” Alex’s voice was pitched high. “Evaaaan, I thought you were gonna be gone a long time. Sorry,” he added meekly.
Evan laughed. “It’s cool. I can leave for a while.”
Brandon was mortified, but Evan really didn’t seem to think it was too big a deal.
“You don’t have to leave,” Brandon said. “We can…I can go.”
Please, please leave, Evan.
“Nahh,” Evan said. “You guys have fun.”
He grabbed his laptop and left. Brandon and Alex lay quietly for a few seconds. The movie was still going; the two lead scientists who had created the crocopython and finally destroyed it were kissing.
Alex laughed softly. His chest jerked against Brandon’s, and Brandon smiled. Then he laughed too, way harder than the situation called for. Alex rolled him onto his side and kissed his temple. Brandon gently headbutted him. Scooted down the bed and used his nose to push Alex’s shirt up so he could kiss the warm skin above Alex’s hip.
He was dangerously close to Alex’s crotch, and he paused. He was turned on enough to want to do more than make out. But as soon as he thought about anything beyond this, the warmth in him dissolved. God, once Alex figured out that everything about sex was a potential trigger for Brandon, he’d lose interest. How could he not?
So should Brandon try to keep him interested? Push past his fears and give Alex something more? Except what would he give Alex? He had no real idea how to get another guy off—had never even wanted to think about it. He lifted his head. Hesitated a second longer then breathed on the bulge in Alex’s jeans.
And then he didn’t have to worry about what to do next, because Alex twisted in surprise and fell off the bed.