Chapter Thirteen
Maverick
Avery might’ve been small, but the guy was stronger than he looked. My face ached the next day, and as I crawled out of bed and went to the bathroom, a reminder of my stupidity was there for all to see.
I wasn’t mad at him. I had deserved the punch. What hurt most was how he’d looked so distraught afterward, how he’d gotten this look in his eyes that made my stomach knot. I couldn’t place it, but it made me uneasy. Not for my sake but for his.
It’d reminded me of someone at the end of their rope.
When he’d taken off into the woods, I’d tried following him, but he’d been too fast. I debated on getting back in my car and driving to his house, but I didn’t want to make matters worse, so I’d just gone home.
I’d tossed and turned in bed all night, haunted by that freaking look in his eyes.
At school, I walked from the student parking lot and to the main building. Crowds of people were everywhere I looked, but there was only one person I wanted—needed—to see. If only just to make sure he was okay.
Giving a quick scan of the area, I found him.
Avery was sitting under a tree with his head tilted down over his book. His long hair fell into his face, so I couldn’t see him as well as I’d like, but I was relieved that he was there. Ben wasn’t around, so he was alone.
I started walking his way, but was stopped by Travis and Ricky.
“Dude, you have to come see this,” Ricky said, grabbing my shirt and tugging me along with them. “Craig and Will are racing to the baseball field and back to see who’s faster. Loser has to stand up on the table at lunch and shout their love for Laura Rodriguez.”
Yeah… wouldn’t want to miss that.
I cast one last glance at Avery. He was in the same spot in the shade, but he was now looking up—staring at me. I was too far away to see his expression, but something in my chest broke a bit.
That feeling I’d had on the first day of school returned, the one that made me want to help him. Except now, it wasn’t just a protective urge but an affectionate one as well. I knew enough about him to be thoroughly intrigued by his shy smiles, witty personality, and the way he made my pulse quicken with just a glance.
Some people would call it smitten, but I didn’t know about all that. All I knew was I liked him. A lot.
We made it over to the other guys just as Craig and Will were beginning their race. I only half-watched them because it all seemed kind of immature. Craig won, and the guys pushed Will around afterward, joking and saying how they looked forward to his love proclamation at lunch.
As for me? I looked forward to first period, so I could see Avery.
“Okay, dude, you gotta tell me what happened to your face,” Travis said, studying me with humored eyes.
Crap. I hadn’t really thought about what I’d tell people.
“Um.”
“Did ya get smacked in the face during a dance number or something?” Ricky asked in a taunting tone before doing a stupid impersonation. He kicked his foot up in a prissy manner and flipped around like a clumsy ballerina.
The guys laughed and shoved me. I rolled my eyes. I’d let them believe whatever they wanted. It was better than telling them the truth; that I’d come on to someone and gotten rejected the hard way.
When the first bell rang, I said bye to my friends and went to class, not surprised at all to see Avery was already there. He was in the back of the room, slumped at his desk, and his hair fell over his face again. He was normally awkward like that, but he seemed even more so that day.
Tired of being in my head and coming up with all kinds of theories, I decided to ask him myself.
“Hey,” I said once at his desk. He looked up and I smiled, even though it was forced. I was too nervous. “You good?”
“Crap, that looks awful,” he pointed out, staring at my cheek. His eyelids drooped a bit, and dark circles were beneath his eyes, as if he hadn’t gotten much sleep either. “I’m so sorry.”
It didn’t go unnoticed that he hadn’t answered my question.
“I’m okay. I deserved it.” I shifted my weight to my other foot and adjusted the backpack strap on my shoulder. “I don’t know what exactly happened between us last night… but I’m sorry, Avery. Please know that I never meant to upset you. That’s the last thing I wanted. I hope we’re still friends.”
I didn’t know what else to say, but I also didn’t want to stop talking. There were feelings I couldn’t describe and words I didn’t know how to form. And they all revolved around him.
Avery watched me a while longer before lifting a hand and brushing his long fingers through his hair. It was an action I craved to do as well. Touch his hair. Any part of him, really. He didn’t like to be touched, however. That was evident enough in the way he’d slugged me and how he wouldn’t let me stand too close.
“We’re still friends,” he said with a nod. “That’s all we can be, though.”
Why? The question was right there on my lips, but my racing heart prevented me from asking it.
When he reached down to unzip his backpack, I noticed the slight wince and way he held his thigh. Which of course drew my attention to his clothes. His black skinny jeans were frayed in the knees, and not because they were styled that way. He wore the same pair of Converse, and the shoes looked even worse than I last remembered.
Then, I briefly looked at mine: expensive jeans from Abercrombie that were styled with frays, new Vans shoes, and a shirt from American Eagle.
The comparison wasn’t intended in a negative way. But it kind of made me wonder if it was one reason he didn’t want to try for more with me. Not because of the clothes, but from where we came from.
“Everyone take a seat, please,” Mr. Jones said, entering the room.
“I’ll talk to you later,” I said to Avery before going to my desk.
Mr. Jones started discussing the next chapter—another battle in the Civil War—and I listened. It was one of my favorite times in American history to learn about. Just everything that went on was interesting, and yeah, really sad too.
After a while, I couldn’t help but look back at Avery.
He was staring out the window, and he looked so distant. Lost.
And something told me that, maybe, he didn’t want to be found.
***
“How was school?” Dad asked as we sat at the dinner table. It was rare that the three of us could actually sit together for a meal. He was always working. Or I was.
Mom had made spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread, which was usually one of my favorite meals ever, but I didn’t have much of an appetite. Avery hadn’t talked to me much at all that day. At lunch, I’d sat at his table, but even then, he hadn’t really looked at me or said anything. Ben had talked to me, though, which had been interesting. It sort of made me feel bad for not talking to the guy sooner.
“It was okay,” I answered, moving my fork through the noodles before scooping some up and forcing it down. “Not a whole lot happened. The stagehands are meeting tonight, so I didn’t have to stay after school. We’ll start line reading next week, I think.”
Neither of them had asked about my face, but Mom kept scrutinizing me.
“I’m proud of you, sweet pea, for doing what you love,” Mom said, touching my hand before pulling away and taking a drink. “We just want whatever makes you happy.”
Mom often said we when showing me support, but more times than not, Dad didn’t factor into those well wishes. Don’t get me wrong, he loved me and wanted what was best for me. However, what was best for me in his opinion was different than mine.
After I told my parents about me and Chris breaking up, both had reacted differently.
Mom had been sad and constantly asked if I was doing all right. Dad, however, seemed pleasantly pleased, as if I’d suddenly find a girlfriend and stop being gay. He’d even had the nerve to ask if I thought any girls in my grade were cute. Maybe one day he’d understand that this was me.
Sadly, it wasn’t that day.
“How’s Travis doing?” Dad asked after swallowing a bite. “Is his dad still coaching college baseball?”
“I think so,” I answered, not missing how he’d changed the topic so fast. “And Trav is doing great. He really supports me with the theater thing too.” I met Dad’s gaze with a hardened stare. “Because he’s a really great friend, ya know? He doesn’t judge me or make me feel like crap for being who I am.”
Silence. The light scraping of forks on plates halted.
“Mav…” Dad wiped his mouth. His dark blue eyes focused on mine. “Can we not do this? I had a long day.”
“No problem,” I said, grabbing my plate and scooting back from the table. “I’ll just leave so you can enjoy your meal without me around.”
I placed my barely touched food in the kitchen before going to my room.
My behavior was out of character for me. I’d never been one of those teens who back talked their parents and stormed to their rooms when they didn’t get their way. But I was just fed up that day, and his uncaring attitude really stung.
Sometimes I felt like he never saw me. He only saw the son he wanted me to be. When I did something to turn that image on its head, it disappointed him, as if I wasn’t living up to some expectation… that I wasn’t good enough.
My words to Avery drifted back into my head. About how I was drawn to him because he made me feel different—made me feel more like myself. That he didn’t see the poorly labeled box, but rather, the unique, somewhat flawed, guy within.
I wondered if he realized I saw him too.
A soft knock snapped me out of my reverie, and I looked at the door just as it opened. When Dad walked in, I was surprised.
“Hey,” he said, not moving farther in the room and instead just standing in the doorway. He looked about as uncomfortable as I felt. “I know things have been tense with us for a while, kid, but I hope you know how much I love you. We may not see eye to eye on a lot, but you’re still my son, and I’d move mountains for you.”
“I know,” I said, fighting the emotion trying to rise in my throat.
He exhaled and scratched at the short stubble on his cheek. “Being a parent is hard, and I don’t always get it right. Even after all these years. I look at you and want you to be better than I ever was. To have everything you want in life and more. I think it’s why I push you so hard.”
“If you keep pushing, Dad, you’re going to push me away,” I admitted, feeling like we’d had that conversation so many times. We’d argue about the same things constantly. “I can’t be what you want me to be. I’ve tried, believe me, but I can’t.”
“Then tell me, Maverick. What do you want to be?” he asked, and for the first time, he seemed like he really wanted an answer. No scoffing, eye rolling, or backhanded remarks about my future. “Tell me so I can try to understand.”
“I’m not exactly sure yet,” I answered as honestly as I could. “Something to do with science, though. Mrs. Brown, my biology teacher, gave me some information about the science program at University of Port Haven.”
“So, you want to be a scientist?” Dad scratched his jaw again.
“Maybe a marine biologist,” I said, watching his face for his reaction. “I love the sea.”
“Then, your mom and I will do everything in our power to ensure you get into a good school for it,” he said, nodding. “But as for now… enjoy your senior year. Be in drama or pitch on the baseball field, it doesn’t matter. Just do what makes you happy.”
My lips twitched when he said pitch, but thank god I didn’t laugh because that was one thing I did not want to explain to my dad. I was a damn good pitcher… on and off the field.
“Thanks, Dad.”
He nodded and was about to walk out when he stopped and studied me again. “Before I go, what happened to your face? Are you having problems at school? Anyone bullying you for being… you know?”
“Gay? No,” I said, messing with my bangs just to have something to do. “People are cool with that.”
“Then why do you look like you got punched?” he asked.
Because I did.
“It was a misunderstanding,” I said, not sure if I was lying or not. “Everything’s okay.”
Dad watched me a moment, as if he was deciding on whether to believe me. “You’d tell me if things weren’t okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
After he left, I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts.
I felt restless, and even though I liked being alone sometimes, that night I just felt lonely. And I hated it. Funny how when you wanted attention, all of your friends were busy, but the moment you were busy, everyone and their brother suddenly wanted to talk.
That’s what happened to me.
I texted Sarah, who was out with her parents to some art gallery thing. Travis was on a date with the girl he’d been banging. Ricky and I didn’t really hang out much without Travis. Noah and Bastian were busy with college.
Avery didn’t have a phone, and I got the impression he wouldn’t want to talk to me even if he did.
Coming to terms with the fact I wasn’t leaving the house that night, I kicked off my shoes before sitting at my desk and clicking on my laptop. I’d never been much of a gamer, but there were some games I enjoyed—like Sims 4. It was a guilty pleasure for sure. I loved creating the characters, giving them personality traits, building their homes, and basically letting them live the kind of life I chose for them.
I tried not to let it sink in too much about what that might mean about me.
Even though I didn’t hide who I was, it still felt like I was living the life others wanted for me a lot of the time.
After putting on some music—a playlist Noah had shared with me of his favorite rock songs—I opened up Sims 4 and started creating myself.
The creation process was one of my favorite parts of the game, and sometimes I could spend over an hour playing with the appearance just to make sure it was exactly as I wanted. I didn’t spend a lot of time on my character. It was the next one that I spent a while on.
Avery.
My intention at first hadn’t been to create him. I’d just wanted to make a couple to play the game with. But as I’d picked out his emo hair style, slender body, and piercing, pale blue eyes… I’d smiled and just kept creating him. I paid close attention to every detail of his face, trying to get the shape of his eyes and set of his lips exactly as I remembered him since I didn’t have a photo to go by.
After his appearance was to my liking, I chose his personality traits: introverted and sweet. By the time I was done, I looked at the clock and was shocked to see over an hour had passed.
Maybe I was crazy and jumping the gun a little by making us a couple on the game—especially since he’d made it pretty damn clear that he didn’t want me in that way—but it was my mind’s way of dealing, I guess. One of those slightly embarrassing fantasies that you kept to yourself.
It was the closest I’d ever get to actually being with him.