- BLAIR -
I was expecting him to freak out. Back at my apartment, when we were almost caught, I was waiting for him to lose his shit. When he told me he’d meet us out and that he wanted to come home with me after, I was shocked. I was ready for the “I’m sorry, this was a mistake” talk.
If I was honest with myself, I’d been waiting for it to happen for two months.
When the freak out didn’t come, I thought everything was okay.
But then he spent most of the night playing wingman for Hunter. I should’ve known “straight” Garrett would’ve come out tonight. We’d been so wrapped up in our bubble, we hadn’t gone out with our friends since the whole thing started. I still saw my friends on Friday pub night, but Garrett never went to those. The only times we’d been out in public were when we were alone.
I didn’t know what I was expecting, but watching him hit on girls wasn’t on the list of possible outcomes of tonight.
I knew he wasn’t interested in them, but that didn’t make it sting less.
Watching him flirt with them crushed me, and the worst part of it was I couldn’t say anything or do anything about it.
Finally, around one in the morning, Hunter headed towards the exit with a girl. Garrett stayed at the table with her friends for a couple of minutes, politely trying to get away from them.
He finally pointed over to me and then made his way over. I was thankful the girls didn’t follow. I’d pulled away from them earlier when I couldn’t handle seeing Garrett act like his fake self.
“Oh my God, I’ve never had to work so hard to get my brother laid,” he said, flopping down across from me.
“I could see that.”
“So, uh, you want to get out of here?”
The words “Maybe we should stop what we’re doing” were on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them down. I hadn’t brought that up in over a month, and if I was completely honest, I didn’t want things to end. But I couldn’t have more nights like tonight.
I was way out of my league because I didn’t know how to handle this situation. Pushing him to come out was wrong, but watching him pretend to be straight killed me.
“’Kay, let’s go home,” I said.
The tension began to leave me as we walked out of the bar and it was just the two of us again. But I relaxed a moment too soon.
“Sorry,” I mindlessly said as I stumbled into someone.
“No prob—Blair?”
Shit, I knew that voice.
“Marc?” Garrett and I said in unison as we stopped on the street.
“Garrett?” Marc said and took a step back. Another guy stood with him. He seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Blondish hair, maybe a little older than me.
“Garrett Erikson,” the guy said with a sneer. “Yup, turns out even a decade isn’t long enough without seeing you again.”
A decade?
“Jeremy.” Garrett’s voice broke. His face paled. He shoved his hands in his pockets but not before I noticed them shake.
“Is this your boyfriend?” Jeremy asked, looking in my direction. Jeremy knows Garrett’s gay?
“No, because I’m not fucking gay.”
I winced at Garrett’s words.
The sorrowful look he shot me let me know he immediately regretted saying them, but it was too late now.
“Ah, still telling that lie,” Jeremy said and then turned to Marc. “How do you even know—” He waved a finger between Garrett and me.
“Blair’s the reason Hayden and I broke up,” Marc said.
“What-the-fuck-ever. You’re the one who neglected to tell me you had a boyfriend. Is Jeremy your new boyfriend or your side?” I cocked my head. “How do you know Garrett, Marc?”
Garrett stiffened beside me as Jeremy’s eyes darted between Marc and me.
“Fucking hell.” Jeremy started to walk off.
“Jeremy,” Garrett said, trying to stop him.
“What?” Jeremy yelled and turned to face him. “You wanna screw up my life all over again? I haven’t had the fear of getting a daily beating for … what, eleven years now. Maybe I need to remember what it’s like to wonder if today’s the day I’m going to die.”
“Fuck, I’m so sorry—” Garrett started.
“No. You don’t get to apologise and pretend it’s all better. You don’t get to clear your conscience.”
Marc and I shared an awkward glance. He didn’t know what was going on either.
That was when it clicked. “You’re Jeremy Stacks. You …” tried to kill yourself in high school. I couldn’t get the words out so I cleared my throat. “I went to school with you.”
Jeremy’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember you.”
“I was a few grades younger than you guys, but I knew … I knew who you were.”
“Because I was the bullied gay guy, right? Guess who I have to thank for that.” He glared at Garrett.
I blanched.
“Ah, didn’t know your boyfriend was the most homophobic gay guy in the world?” Jeremy asked.
Garrett was trembling beside me. It was subtle, but I knew him. I could sense it.
“Garrett, we need to go,” I said.
He didn’t move.
“Do yourself a favour and dump his ass,” Jeremy said to me.
“Do yourself a favour and fuck off,” I growled back.
I took two steps in front of Garrett. He was looking straight through me.
“Garrett.”
Nothing.
“Garrett,” I repeated. I risked cradling his head to lower it to meet my eyes.
I didn’t know if Jeremy and Marc were gone or not, but I didn’t care. Garrett was refusing to even look at me.
“Baby,” I grunted. I only ever called him that when we were in bed, so it finally snapped him out of his trance.
I realised it was a mistake, though, when his hands gripped my wrists hard and pried them away from his head.
“He’s right,” he said. “About everything. You should stop. We should stop.”
“We need to go. Come back to mine and we can talk.” I was sure there was more to the story than Jeremy was saying. There had to be. Right?
“No.” He took a step back and shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t do this.”
“Don’t—”
“Everything he said was the truth. He tried to kill himself because of me.”
My eyes widened. “Did you … were you one of the ones who …”
“I did worse than beat him up. I stood by and did nothing as others did it for me. I watched it happen, knowing I was responsible for him being targeted. And yet, I still fucking stood there and watched them do it to him. I couldn’t … I couldn’t let the truth get out. I couldn’t … Fuck! I have to go. I’m sorry.” He stepped around me.
“Garrett, don’t walk away from me.”
“Rhodes. It’s—”
“Don’t.” I knew I was pleading. I knew people were now watching. I didn’t care.
“I can’t. I just … can’t do it.”
He left me standing on the side of the crowded street, outside a dingy bar.
I couldn’t even chase after him to drive him home. My feet were frozen to the spot.
He was gone, and even though I’d suspected this moment was coming for the past two months, it killed me to watch him walk away again.