Chapter 12 (Landon)
I've always been too sensitive for my own good. I've never been the type of person who can stand there when another person is hurting and not do anything about it.
In fact, when I was a small boy, my mother used to cradle me on her lap when I would cry over all the injustices of the world. She used to call me her sensitive little elephant. When I asked her why an elephant—she told me that not only were they her favorite animal, but in her opinion, elephants are the most emotional and intelligent.
She told me not to be ashamed that I was sensitive, that in her eyes, it was a majestic quality to have.
But over the years, I learned that being sensitive was a hindrance.
Not only did it not impress girls, who seemed to only want alpha males and jocks, it left me open to ridicule.
And through careful observation, I quickly figured out that it was the people who seemingly felt nothing that always seemed to get everything in this world.
Because they just didn't give a shit.
Therefore, I no longer cried over my own or other people's injustices, no matter how much I felt them bubbling inside me like a cauldron ready to boil over—instead I bottled them up and poured it out through my love of music. Exposing every scar etched in my soul for the world via rhythm and melodies, finding the perfect harmony to soothe my heart, making it so I could go on another day without the anguish inside wearing me down with every breath I took.
But it doesn't mean I don't still feel every ounce of it. I care about others, even those I shouldn't.
And when Asher took off like a bolt of lightning after catching me watching his video, it gnawed at me all day.
I didn't mean to hurt him by watching it, but that's exactly what I did.
Because in that moment...I felt him.
I saw his scars...I felt his embarrassment. I felt his shame.
And I hated that I was the one who caused it. Even though he's just some dumb jock, an asshole who laughed when I spilled coffee on myself, and probably a womanizer and hell, maybe even a manizer.
I cared that he was hurting.
Which is why I lied to Coach Crane and told him the first session went fine and that it wouldn't be a problem to tutor him.
It's also why I find myself wandering up the steps of the co-ed dorm building. Even though it's the last place I should be right now.
He answers on the third knock, the final knock before I was going to give up and walk back down the stairs.
The scowl on his face tells me I'm the last person he wants to see. And the half empty beer in his hand, sweatpants he's adorning, and bare feet tell me I've probably interrupted his evening.
And now I feel like an even bigger idiot for coming here.
“Well if it isn't my favorite voyeur nerd,” he greets me, stepping out and standing in front of the door.
I find myself grateful the co-ed floor is empty and the students haven't moved in yet.
I'm suddenly at a loss for words. I have no idea what to say to that...because in a way he's right. As much as I hate to admit it, it would make sense for him to think I'm some kind of voyeur after what happened earlier.
Not once, but twice in the span of 10 minutes he caught me watching him in a sexual act.
“Look,” I start, finding my voice. “I'm sorry about—”
I swallow, because my mouth's unable to formulate words again. How exactly does one apologize for coming off like a pervert?
His eyes turn to steel. “For what?”
When I don't answer, he crosses his arms and takes a step forward, letting me know he's got the clear advantage over me due to his size.
I jut my chin out, push my shoulders back, and match his stare. I'm not one to be intimidated easily. I might be non-confrontational by nature, but it doesn't mean I allow myself to be walked on either.
This guy wants to elicit a reaction out of me because he's uncomfortable with what happened today. I get it. But I'm not going to play into whatever hand he's currently trying to deal me.
I simply came here to apologize and let him know that I don't give a shit what or who he likes to do in the privacy of his bedroom. The only thing I care about is that he shows up for our sessions on time and makes a genuine effort to do the work.
“I'm sorry for watching your video.” I take a step back, intending to leave. “It's none of my business what you're into or what you do outside of our tutoring sessions.”
His nostrils flare, and for a moment, I honestly think he's going to punch me. But then he closes his eyes and says, “It's not what you think. I—”
“Jesus, I don't care that you like guys!”
He shakes his head. “That's not what I was going to say. But thanks for being so concerned about where I stick my dick.”
Before I can say another word, he walks back inside and slams the door behind him.
I take a breath. Not only should I not even be here, but I shouldn't give two shits about being nice to this guy.
I just...I feel bad for him. I know what it's like to be bullied and to have people make fun of you for being different every day. I also know he's going to catch a lot of flak from not only the students on campus...but his own teammates.
I knock on the door again and he yanks it open, appearing even angrier now. “Unless you're going to bend over or get on your knees for me, get the fuck away from my door.”
I take another step back, appalled. Here I was trying to be a friend and this is the shit he spews?
“What—”
I don't have a chance to finish that statement because he shoves me against the wall. And then he gets in my face, intentionally invading every inch of my personal space.
My hand forms a fist, ready to defend myself.
He smirks and braces his arm on the wall beside my head. “You heard me, nerd.”
He's so close, it's uncomfortable. When his lips are a centimeter from mine, I turn my face away.
“Awe, what's the matter, Landon? Is this too gay for you?”
I shove him off me. He doesn't go far, but it's enough that it puts some distance between us.
“This has nothing to do with you being gay, straight, or whatever the fuck you are,” I seethe. “This has to do with me coming here to apologize to you and you being an asshole.”
I shove him again. “I told you, I don't give a shit about your sexuality. But clearly you do.” I start walking down the hall. “Put me in a position like that again and I'll report your ass to the coach.”
I pause and bite back a smile. “By the way, your tutoring session is scheduled for tomorrow at 8am sharp at the campus library.”
He narrows his eyes. “My first practice is at 8am.”
“Did I say 8?” I give him a sardonic grin. “I meant 5am. And I suggest you make sure you've read the English syllabus that Coach Crane gave you. I'd also make sure you read the first two chapters of Romeo and Juliet tonight because there will be a quiz.”
I turn on my heels. I regret coming here. But hey, at least I tried to do the decent thing and apologize when I was wrong. Which is more than I can say about him.
I'm on my first step down the stairs when I hear him call out, “Landon.”
I should keep walking and pretend I don't hear him. But it's the remorse in his voice that has me backtracking. “What?”
“I'm sorry. That was really fucked up of me.”
“Yeah, it was.” I shrug. “Look, I don't know the specifics of what happened to you in the past, but you're obviously still letting it dictate your future.” I dig my hands in my pockets. “These people are going to eat you alive this year if you don't get your shit together, Asher. I just met you and even I can tell you're spinning out. People feed on that and they'll only try to bury you.”
I gesture to the joint tucked behind his ear and the beer in his hand. “Word of advice? If the coach catches that shit in your system I can almost guarantee you'll be off the team. No matter how good your stats are. He's not one of those in it for the glory. He's the real deal. He cares about his players.”
He nods and blows out a breath. “This is going to be awkward now, isn't it?”
That vulnerability's in his expression again and it makes me bend. “Yeah, probably. I mean, dude. You tried to kiss me out of nowhere. At least buy a man dinner first. Preferably a steak.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose and laughs. “Fuck, I really am a special brand of asshole.”
I turn and start walking down the hallway again. “Make it 6:30 am.”
“Gee thanks, nerd.”
I raise my middle finger in the air. “You're welcome, jock.”