Cruel And Careless

Bailey Nicole

Contents

Playlist

Content Warning

Prologue

1. Ben

2. Ben

3. Damon

4. Ben

5. Ben

6. Damon

7. Ben

8. Ben

9. Ben

10. Damon

11. Ben

12. Ben

13. Ben

14. Damon

15. Damon

16. Ben

17. Damon

18. Ben

19. Damon

20. Ben

21. Damon

22. Ben

23. Damon

24. Ben

25. Ben

26. Damon

27. Ben

28. Damon

29. Ben

30. Damon

Epilogue

Teddy

Acknowledgments

About the Author

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2021 by Bailey Nicole

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

First Edition, 2021

Book cover design by Ashes and Vellichor

Copy and Line Editing by Zainab M. at Heart Full of Reads Editing Services

Formatting by R. Holmes

ISBN: 9798743861934

Playlist

The Plot in You—Time Changes Everything

Bad Omens—The Worst in Me

Bring Me the Horizon—Home Sweet Hole

Kid Cudi—GHOST!

Hippie Sabotage—Options

Varials—Romance

Deftones—Change (In the House of Flies)

Architects—Impermanence

Godsmack—Awake

Bones—RestInPeace

Fame on Fire—Blinding Lights

Excision (feat. Akylla)—Drowning

The Amity Affliction—Ivy (Doomsday)

Brand New—Lit Me Up

Code Orange—Hurt Goes On

Eminem—Love You More

Bring me the Horizon—Can You Feel My Heart

The World Alive—Misery

Asking Alexandria—I Won’t Give In

Map Change—Every Time I Die

Listen to Full Playlist Here

To anyone who has ever felt like they couldn’t make it one more day.

This one’s for y’all. Look at you. Still alive. Still kickin’.

Content Warning

I wouldn’t label this as a dark romance, but it has some dark themes that may be uncomfortable for some to read. There’s adult language, graphic descriptions of drug use and drug addiction, and the effects that can have on a person. Domestic violence in the past and in the present. This book also deals with mental illness such as depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts and actions.

This is an MM romance, so there is detailed sex between two consenting men.

Prologue

Ben

Here I am, on my summer break from school, hundreds of miles away from my friends, dealing with this bullshit. 

Another loud crash comes from outside of the spare bedroom I’m currently trying to watch TV in. Sounds like something fell off the dining room table. Maybe my mom’s boyfriend shoved her into it, or maybe he threw something. Another loud string of curses sounds from the living room. I wish they’d make up and go to sleep already.

Why am I not freaking out about this?

Oh yeah, that’s right. My therapist says I’m desensitized to my surroundings.

Guess my life has always been so chaotic that it doesn’t bother me anymore. I remember times when something like this would make me cry and sink into myself. I would sometimes lay in the bathtub with no water and stare at the ceiling. There’s something very comforting about the four walls and cold porcelain floor of a bathtub. When I was even younger, I would put my thin pillow and ratty blanket in my closet and sleep in there, as if the shitty wooden door with a hole punched through it could keep me safe. My childish brain felt as though that door could protect me from anything, but I know better now. 

As it turns out, the only way to protect yourself is to not give a fuck. How’s that for a lesson in maturity? 

“Ben!" my mom shouts, the pain in her voice evident. 

Sighing, I hop out of bed and slip my shoes on. She’s probably going to make us leave and stay somewhere else even though it's midnight already, so I might as well be prepared.

As I’m stuffing my phone charger in my pocket, she comes barreling in through the door. 

“Let’s go! Hurry up. We’re sleeping at Mel’s house tonight.” 

She’s sweaty and crying. Her dark black hair is sticking all over her face and I can see her chest rising and falling rapidly. This is the first summer I’ve visited her since she moved to South Carolina, safe to say, she’s the same way she’s always been. If she’s not nodded off on the couch, she’s pumped up on adrenaline from fighting with her toxic boyfriend. 

That’s alright though. I’ll always love my mother. It’s like no matter how much fucked-up stuff she’s done to me, I look past it. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. It’s the only way to cope with it other than putting her out of my life completely, which very well may happen after this shitshow of a summer.

We stroll out of the house with ease which means her boyfriend, Daniel, has already crashed out in the bedroom. Good. Dodged that bullet. When life is fucked up at all the time like this, you learn to appreciate the little things. Like avoiding a confrontation with your mom’s boyfriend while you creep off into the night together like stowaways. 

Luckily, Mel’s apartment is only a couple buildings away from ours. My mom bangs on the door and I cringe. Doesn’t she realize people are sleeping? 

Mel opens the door just a crack. When she sees us, her shoulders relax, and she shakes her head at my mom in exasperation. This isn’t the first night we’ve come crawling to her place. Or the second. 

She rushes us into the house. It’s warm. I’ve come to associate her house with safety over the past month and a half that I’ve been here. It’s easy for me to latch on to normalcy, even if it feels out of place in my life. She’s really made this small dingy apartment feel like home. She’s a single mother and works her ass off for her daughter. Her daughter will always know that her mom loved her enough.

She immediately starts asking my mom if she’s alright and if she needs any water. I tune it out and flop down on the loveseat, where I usually sleep when we hide out here. My six foot tall frame has my legs hanging over the armrest, but that’s alright. I let my mom have the bigger couch. 

I pull out my phone, the most expensive thing I’ve ever owned. Thank God for grandparents, am I right? I hit up my best friend, Antonio, to let him know what happened tonight. I wish I was at his house right now, maybe smoking some weed or watching a movie. I miss my friends back home; they’re going to parties and hanging out all day while I’m stuck up here. Whatever. Two more weeks and I’ll be flying back to the sunshine state. 

I start scrolling through my Facebook, until Antonio responds. He always texts back quickly and he usually knows how to make me feel better. Sure enough, the ping of a text notification comes through a couple minutes later. 

Ant: Dude. Just lay low until you leave. Only two more weeks and you’ll be back here, and we can spend the last week of summer living it up before senior year. I’m at the park right now with the boys. Guess what!

I roll my eyes as I type out my response.

Me: I don’t know, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me. 

Ant: You bet your ass I am. Damon’s back and he’s here with us right now. You should hit him up, he’s pretty cool.

Anxiety swirls in my gut. Damon is back. He graduated from our school last year and immediately disappeared. I didn’t really know him well, but I still felt something when I found out he left. He always had my attention if we were in the same room, but he never really noticed me, maybe because he already had a big group of friends flocking around him. 

Me: Why are you with him? He never hung out with us before. 

Ant: Teddy invited him. Said he saw him at the corner store last night. 

I tuck my phone back into my pocket and drape my arm over my eyes. Is Damon going to start hanging around us all the time? I doubt it. He already has his own group of friends. 

Damon was always open about his sexuality. He’s into dudes and he never gave a fuck what people at school thought about it. While some may think that’d make him an outcast, it was the exact opposite. I would even call him popular. He was on the basketball team and our school takes basketball very seriously. Well, that’s what it seems like anyway, since I hardly ever show up to class. 

I don’t care about him being gay. I’ve always considered myself to be straight, but something about the way my eyes always linger on him when we’re in the same room sets my blood on fire.

I hear my mom crying to Mel in the bedroom. She’s always crying. I let out a breath of air and decide I’m not going to text Damon. We don’t have anything in common and I don’t have anything good to say right now. I’m not any fun when I’m depressed, and that’s pretty much always.

Ben

Two weeks later

Seeing my dad waiting for me at the airport is like a breath of fresh air. He gives me a hug and tells me he loves me, and that he misses me. He’s always told me he loves me. I know a lot of dads don’t show affection like that, but he does, and I don’t mind it. I never understood why some kids get embarrassed about a hug or a kiss from their parents.

I load my suitcase into the back of his truck. It’s the same beat-up green truck he’s always had. As soon as I slide into the bench seat, he starts blasting “Dead and Bloated” by Stone Temple Pilots. The windows are rolled down since his air conditioner doesn’t work, and the hot, humid summer air is suffocating in the best kind of way. I can smell the salt from the beach to the east of us, and the tall palm trees lining the road remind me that I’m home.

We drive in silence, enjoying the rock music. Where we live in Florida, there’s an interesting social structure. By interesting, I mean fucked up. Half of us are filthy rich and half of us are dirt poor; we fall somewhere on the poor side of the spectrum. The closer we get to our house, I notice the crumbling sidewalks and trash littering the road. The homeless sleeping at bus stops, and the occasional dirty needle strewn about. It doesn’t bother me one bit; this is home after all, but I find myself looking at it with new eyes after being away for a couple of months.

We come to a stop in the driveway of our tiny turquoise apartment. Our neighbor’s house is a salmon pink color. Floridians get very colorful with their homes for some reason. I hop out and grab my suitcase, dragging it behind me as we head inside. I’m immediately hit with the stench of cigarette smoke and weed. My dad smokes in the house—in his bedroom, more specifically—since that’s where he always is. The smell of cigarette smoke has followed me around my whole life. I had kids ask me if I smoked cigarettes back in middle school because my clothes always reeked of it.

I head to my room and start unpacking. Over the years, I’ve decorated the walls with so many posters of all my favorite bands and half-naked chicks you can’t even see the walls. I stole the majority of these posters from the mall, but what else would you expect a kid like me to do. My bed is a futon, and I also have a couch which makes this the perfect spot for my friends to hang out at.

My dad knocks on the door. For some reason, he always knocks because he believes I need privacy. I’ve always appreciated that about him. I open it up and turn back around to plop down on my bed.

“Alright, son, school starts back up in a week. Are you going to actually go this year?” he questions with a tilt of his head.

“Why can’t I do online school? You know I hate that place.”

“Because you need to interact with people your own age to develop social skills.”

I stare up at him blankly because we’ve had this conversation a thousand times. He’s a very stubborn guy. He’s not a helicopter parent in the slightest, but he does have rules.

“Sam will be here on Monday for your therapy sessions, okay?” He glances over to my windowsill where I’ve already unpacked my medication. One pill that’s supposed to handle my depression and anxiety.

That’s one of the things my dad and I have in common. He’s just as depressed as I am, and he’s always been that way, but he refuses therapy or medication. He’s too damn angry all the time to deal with a therapist asking him how he feels.

I nod at him. “Are you going to keep locking yourself away in your bedroom this year?”

He stiffens because he knows exactly what I’m talking about. His addiction and depression are robbing him of his life. He’s a hollow shell of the man I once knew.

“It’s none of your business what I do in my spare time. Stay out of it,” he warns, and storms out of my room.

I knew better than to ask. He’s really not a talker. He stays out of my business, and I stay out of his.

I get out of my airplane clothes and throw on some black skinny jeans and a plain black t-shirt. I slip my sun-bleached Vans on and grab some quarters out of my nightstand.

I head out of the house and greet my neighbor; he’s always out front with his Pitbull, seemingly doing nothing. He’s cool people; buys beer for me sometimes. I whip my phone out of my pocket with happiness zinging through my veins. I want to go on an adventure today, so I call Ant to tell him I’m heading over, and he whoops with excitement. I sit down at the bus stop by my house and wait for the bus to show, which should be about fifteen minutes. There’s another guy standing here smoking, so I ask him for a cig. We busy ourselves in small talk about how his girlfriend or that hoe, as he puts it, cheated on him with his brother. Now they’re together, and they kicked him out of their house this morning. You can always find interesting people at a bus stop. Everyone’s got a story to tell.

Soon enough I’m approaching my stop and pulling the string for the bus driver to pull over. My best friend's house is only a five-minute walk from here, so I get moving.

Striding up to the house, I knock on the door. I take a moment to appreciate the mint green color his place is painted in. I hear Ant barreling toward the door before he throws it open.

“Ma! Ben’s here, we’re heading out,” he shouts out to Ms. Castaneda.

“Okay, honey!” she yells back.

Before I know it, he’s dragging me by my arm, and we’re heading to the park by his house. It’s where a lot of people from our high school hang out at or just use it as a meetup spot. Apparently, Teddy and Liam are already waiting for us.

As I walk up to the pavilion, Liam gives me a big grin and says, “Long time no see, my man.”

I sidle up to Teddy, punching him in the arm, and he passes me a blunt and laughs.

“You’ve gotta stop doing that, dude; you’re getting too big to be using me as a punching bag.”

Teddy’s always been on the skinnier side, but I spent the majority of my summer working out since there wasn’t shit else to do at my mom’s place, so I guess he has a point.

“My bad, man.” I smirk down at him and throw my arm around his shoulder, squeezing it. I’ve always felt protective of him. He got a lot of shit in middle school, because he looked so much younger than everyone else. It’s been a long time since I’ve had to stand up for him, but old habits die hard and all that. I hit the blunt and feel the smoke settling all of my nerves.

Sitting here at this picnic table with my three friends, laughing it up, and sweating our asses off—there’s no place I’d rather be.

The sun is starting to set, cooling the atmosphere a little bit. It’s still humid though, but I’m feeling good. Happy, even. I’m kicked back, sitting backward at the table with Teddy next to me, my elbow on his shoulder like an armrest. Ant and Liam are busy narrating a very animated story about this party they went to last weekend. I’m definitely feeling like I missed out on way too much this summer. Liam’s going on about some girl’s tits, as usual, when the loud boom of a car's stereo interrupts them. A blacked-out car pulls into a spot in front of us.

The door whips open and the first thing I see is a shock of dark hair.

“Oh, Damon’s here! I forgot I invited him,” Teddy states so simply, as if he didn’t just make the hairs on my arms stand up straight.

Two more people pile out of the car, a girl I’ve never seen before, and Jasper, Damon’s best friend, I think. I’ve always seen the two of them together kind of like Ant and I.

Damon comes ambling up the path to the pavilion and gives Ant a dudebro handshake. When did they start giving each other handshakes? My brow furrows as I look at Ant accusingly, and he has the audacity to shrug. Damon does the same to Liam and turns around to repeat the action with Teddy, I’m assuming. But he stops when his eyes lock with mine.

I suddenly feel very, very small.

His eyes roam over my face before they catch on my elbow, still draped casually on Teddy’s shoulder. His jaw hardens for a split second, and I feel the sudden urge to drop my arm. Instead, I act as nonchalant as possible. Key word: act. Teddy doesn’t seem to notice anything as he stands up to slap his hand, smiling so big, showing all of his teeth, which in turn, makes me smile.

But the smile falls from my face when I move my eyes to Damon, who’s watching me closely. It’s like he’s appraising me for an auction or something. It makes my skin tingle, and while I feel like I should say something, I can’t make myself talk, so he does it for me.

“Ben, right?” he asks.

Even though we went to the same school for the past three years, it surprises me that he knows my name. My eyes widen and the shock must show on my face because he smirks at me. Fucking smirks.

I can only nod at him, because apparently, my brain is paralyzed and isn’t helping me with words.

Then he sits down next to me in the very same spot Teddy was just sitting. I stiffen. His leg touches mine casually, and…why am I thinking about his leg? I was just draped all over Teddy. What’s the difference?

Only, it feels different. Warmth spreads through my thigh at the point of contact, and I feel my face heat up. He’s huge and takes up most of the bench next to me.

He seems perfectly relaxed, but for some reason, my thoughts are going a million miles a minute. I’ve never been this close to him. He’s always been around, but he’s never been around me. I’m on edge, and I can feel my awareness shift to him like a magnet.

“Yo! Jasper, get over here!” he shouts next to me, and I flinch. I actually flinch. Jesus, Ben, get a grip.

Jasper has his arm around the girl as he walks toward us. I’m assuming it’s his newest conquest. I swear I’ve never seen him with an actual girlfriend. They take a seat on the bench across from us. He looks thoroughly annoyed, and she’s eyeing Ant up like she wants to eat him. They’re all talking about the party last weekend still, because apparently, Damon and Jasper were there too. I’m feeling like an outsider, so I start chewing on my lip to keep myself busy. It’s a nervous habit I’ve always had due to high anxiety in social situations. I’m usually okay around my best friends, but this whole situation is overwhelming me and my breathing’s getting heavier like someone’s sitting on my chest.

I hear the sound of a lighter flick next to me and look over as Damon holds a blunt between his thumb and pointer finger while lighting the tip of it with his other hand. My eyes latch onto the network of veins covering his forearm, and warmth rushes to my cheeks. He lifts it to his lips and I follow the action with my gaze, even though I’m sure he’s noticed me staring by now. His lips look hard and full as they hold onto it, and he puffs a few times. I feel his body relax next to me, his legs sprawling out a bit more. My heart beats a fast staccato rhythm in my chest as he turns his head, and his eyes lock onto my lower lip I’m still chewing on. I immediately stop and clear my throat a bit, and look away.

Suddenly, I feel a heavy weight on my thigh, and look down to see his hand, palm facing up, with the blunt in his fingertips. My brain goes into overdrive and I stare at it for a second, before he moves it back and forth a little, trying to get my attention.

Right. He’s passing it to me. My friends have passed me a blunt or a joint the same way, countless times. Your limbs get a little heavy when you're high, and it’s easier that way. So why am I fixating on it? I grab it from him, and my fingers barely brush against his, but it sends a jolt of sensation through my arm. My breath catches, and I try to play it off like it’s nothing, but it didn’t feel like nothing. It felt like everything. And now that he’s moved his hand back to his own lap, my thigh feels cold and too light. Shaking my head, I inhale the blunt deeply. I feel his eyes on me, so I look back at him, taking in the barbell in his thick eyebrow and his closely cropped dark hair.

He lifts a brow at me. “Like what you see, pretty boy?”

His voice is so deep but in a tell-tale whisper, like it was for my ears only. My mouth falls open, and his eyes drop to it, yet again.

That smirk appears on his face; he’s obviously thrilled with my dumbstruck reaction to him. He’s still looking at me when he asks everyone, “Do y’all want to bring this back to my place?”

The chorus of agreement rings out around me. This is going to be a long night.

I type out a quick text to my dad informing him about my plans for tonight, even though I know he won’t care either way.

Damon hops up from his relaxed position next to me, leaving me cold and devoid of his touch. Alone.

2

Ben

We all squeeze into Damon’s car. Jasper has his girl on his lap in the backseat with Ant and I, while Teddy is in the passenger seat up front, which makes no sense because he’s the smallest one out of all of us. When did they become such good friends?

“The Fox and the Hole” by Bring Me the Horizon starts playing, and Damon turns the radio up. The sound system in his car has the bass booming so loud none of us can talk to each other, so I focus my attention out the darkly tinted window. Having windows tinted this dark is technically illegal here, but people like Damon still do it, anyway. We pull into a good-looking apartment complex I’ve never been in before, and park in front of his building.

Next to me, Ant yells out, “Let’s get fucked up!”

His declaration has us laughing and scrambling out of the car, up the steps to the apartment. Damon unlocks the door and puts his keys down on a table as we all file inside. Damn, he’s got a nice place. Everything looks brand new, and there’s actually furniture. He’s probably only nineteen, so I’m surprised. A huge sectional sofa taking up most of the living room, and a flat screen adorns the wall. There’s not any personal touches, though. No family pictures on the walls or anything, either.

Damon hits a light switch, and red light strips lining the ceiling turn on. He pulls out his phone and starts playing more heavy metal music through the surrounding sound system.

Jasper already has a bottle of vodka and is occupied, loading up shots on the coffee table in the living room for us to take. I’m not sure what to do, so I stick with Antonio and sit next to him on the couch. I see Damon handing a tall jar of weed to Teddy and he’s already packing it into a bong. We all take our shots and then another one for good measure. Warmth spreads through my limbs as the vodka hits my stomach. Dropping my head to the back of the couch, my gaze fixates on the red light strip across the room. Drinking always helps me lighten up. Whenever I'm in social situations like this, my mind races with things I want to say, but I usually keep quiet. That's one reason Ant and I have always gotten along so well. He could find something to talk about with anyone, and he's never minded my silence.

Realizing I’m probably unintentionally coming off as rude, I drag my attention to the conversation everyone’s having.

“I know we just got here, but I think we’re gonna head out. See ya tomorrow, Dame,” he says while his girl gives him obvious fuck-me eyes. Damon shakes his head at him and starts laughing, which cuts through the room like a melody, lighting up his entire face. He’s always been the center of attention wherever he is, and my eyes can’t help but take in the way the blood-red light casts a shadow under his prominent cheekbone. God. His face is carved like a fucking marble statue. He catches my gaze and quirks a brow at me with a cocky smirk.

I focus my attention to my right where Ant has the bong between his thighs readying to take a hit, but I still feel Damon’s dark eyes burning into me. Why does it feel like I’m a specimen under a microscope whenever his attention is on me?

Liam’s voice rescues me from my troubling thoughts. “This is some fire weed, you selling now?”

“Yeah, only to certain people though. If y’all ever need anything, feel free to hit me up. Teddy has my number.”

Teddy was obviously zoned out because at the sound of his name, he pops up looking adorably confused while asking, “Who’s number?”

That has us all cracking up, which makes him scowl. It’s adorable, though.

Damon squeezes his shoulder, smiling down at him. “Just give them all my number, Ted.”

“Oh. Yeah, that," he mumbles before collapsing back on the couch.

My cheeks are sore from laughing so much. Damn, it feels good to be back. Damon fits so well into our friend circle, and that’s something I didn’t expect. He’s always been larger than life.

“You’re sitting on the grass, Ben. You gonna pass that?" Damon calls out across the room.

“Oh, shit, my bad," I immediately say, feeling sheepish.

“Are you coming to the party tomorrow night?" he further inquires.

“Um. Yeah where’s it at?”

Liam chimes in, “It’s down south from here. Takes two buses to get there.”

“Buses? Did you not just ride in my car to get here? I’ll take you guys," he says with finality.

“Hell yes, dude! Now we won’t be all sweaty when we get there," Ant pipes in, with a wild grin.

Damon starts lining up more shots for us to take. After we down them, I excuse myself to smoke a cig.

“You can go to the balcony,” he says, pointing toward the balcony he mentioned.

I get up, suddenly feeling compelled to get out of this room and into the fresh air to clear my head. When I step outside, the wave of hot air hits me, wrapping around my body like a blanket. A lot of people complain about how hot it is down here, but this subtropical climate is my favorite.

I lean over the railing and light up the extra cigarette the guy from the bus stop gave me as a parting gift. In my mind, it’s funny how that works. Like, here’s a cigarette for listening to all the bullshit that’s going on in my life, random stranger.

We’ve all got problems in this place. All my friends face something when they go home. That’s why we end up together, doing anything to forget about it all.

My thoughts are interrupted by the glide of the sliding glass door opening. My shoulders stiffen with awareness because I know it’s him. I can actually feel him. He sidles up next to me against the railing, our arms touching from shoulder to elbow. He pulls out a smoke and lights it up, exhaling with a sigh.

The quiet is suffocating now that he’s here. He seems tired. The kind of bone-deep exhaustion that goes beyond sleep. I sneak a glance and find him looking at me curiously.

Finding it easier to talk now since there’s not so many people around to set my anxiety off, I ask, “How’d you get this place? Seems kind of expensive for a small time weed dealer.”

He chuckles. “You cut straight to the point, don’t you?” Turning his head away from me, he speaks so quietly, I wonder if he even wanted me to hear him.

“My grandmother died a couple days after graduation. She left me some money.”

Oh. I let out a heavy sigh. I’m not any good at comforting people.

“You don’t have to talk about it. I know we don’t really know each other like that.”

He’s still looking in the opposite direction of me, toward the street where cars are flying by, even though it's well after midnight. The city never sleeps around here, and it’s a Friday night. I’m sure people are hitting up bars and enjoying the nightlife this city boasts.

I’m starting to feel like I did or said the wrong thing, since he still won’t look at me. Straightening up, I almost tell him I’m heading back in the house, but his words stop me.

“Do you ever feel like we’ll never be a part of that world? Kids like us don’t make it that far. We spend our days chasing whatever it takes to get a temporary feeling of happiness with no regard for the future. We put off the inevitable. Hell, most of us never had a chance to begin with.”

Pinning me with his gaze, he continues on, “Partying, drugs, drinking, stealing, skipping school, or even dropping out altogether.”

“We do what we have to do to get by," I interrupt. “If chasing the next thrill keeps us going, then we should keep at it. Because if we don’t, then we’ll truly have nothing. Life is unbearable, and it doesn’t cater to us. My friends are thicker than my family, and I’ll stick with them through whatever path they take. We’re our own family. There’s no time to think about the next five years; we’re just trying to make it to tomorrow.”

“That’s more words than I’ve ever heard you say,” he says. His gaze drops to my mouth. “Why do you chew on your lip so much?”

I feel like a passenger in my own body as he lifts his hand to cup my chin. Why is he touching me? His calloused thumb untucks my lower lip from my teeth and my whole body goes rigid. Why can’t I move? A hiss of breath gusts out over his thumb, but he’s still looking at my mouth thoughtfully.

I clear my throat, trying to pull away, but he tightens his grip. Heat crashes through my system as I croak out, “What are you doing?”

He steps in closer to me, crowding my space, backing me up to the railing.

I couldn’t have predicted his next words even if I tried.

“What’s going on between you and Teddy?”

My eyes widen in shock, and I jerk myself back out of his grip. “What are you talking about? He’s one of my closest friends. Seems like y’all have gotten pretty friendly, too.”

Shit. I shouldn’t have said that. The cocky smirk is back on his face, which sends shivers down my spine. In some dark corner in the back of my brain, I feel kind of glad it’s aimed at me.

He leans in and his lips brush my ear, heat spreading from the area of contact as he says, “What’s the matter? You wanna sit next to me? You wanna text me and talk to me when they’re not around?”

I don’t know what the actual fuck is going on anymore. I don’t know if it's the weed singing through my veins, causing my whole body to relax into his, or his close proximity. I don’t know if it's the liquor making my head feel hazy, or his deep, rumbling voice.

But in a split second, I turn my face toward his, and see the smirk drop from his mouth. I crash our lips together, and he stiffens, before reaching up to grab my head in both of his hands, gripping my wavy blond hair. His lips are softer than I would expect, but the kiss is bruising. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth like he owns it, quickly taking over the kiss. I hear myself whimper into his mouth, and he groans and pins me harder to the rail, molding our bodies together. He pulls back a little, and I instinctively chase his mouth with mine before his teeth latch onto my lower lip, biting it hard and flooding my mouth with the metallic taste of blood. I open my eyes and find his heavy with lust, looking straight into me. He’s a fire wrapping around me, short circuiting my senses. My eyelids fall shut, and I want his mouth back on mine. I need his tongue sweeping over mine. But he lets go and grabs my throat firmly, tilting my chin up to meet his heated gaze.

“Next time, you’re chewing on your lip, you’ll remember the way I did it for you," he rasps out in a low steady rumble. “And if you’re feeling so nervous you need to mangle your perfect lip like that, come find me, and I’ll do it for you again.”

A shiver ripples through me as his words sink in. My legs feel weak, and I bury my head in his neck, not wanting him to see the emotions playing across my face. He can’t possibly know how much that means to me. He stiffens up a bit before wrapping his arms around me.

“Are you panicking?” he asks, and it all comes crashing down on me. I just made out with a guy, and I want to do it again, and again. I’m just trying to make it to tomorrow, and something about him has me soaring so high I don’t see any reason to come down. Burrowing deeper into his neck, I shake my head. He backs up, leaving me feeling open and vulnerable. His entire demeanor changes right before my eyes. His shoulders are drawn up, and his face is set in a closed off expression.

“We should head back inside before your boys smoke all of my weed,” he says.

And just like that, he’s turning around like nothing ever happened, causing a throb of pain to lance through my chest.

Maybe I am panicking, but not the gay panic he thought I was having. No, this is much worse.

3

Damon

I needed to get out of there. Away from him. The way he looked up at me after I blew his fucking brain with a kiss was too much to take. His lips were still swollen and glistening, but his eyes told me everything I needed to know.

He wants more than I have to offer. He may not even realize it yet, but it was written all over his face. His bright blue puppy dog eyes drilled into me in a desperate attempt to rip me apart and dive inside, but what he doesn’t know is that would be the worst decision of his life.

But damn, did he feel good. I’ve always noticed the way he looked at me in school when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. His gaze would follow me unconsciously, like a moth to a flame. I figured he was at least bi-curious, but I didn’t expect him to kiss me just now. I didn’t think there would be so much tenacity wrapped up in such a shy, nervous package. I thought maybe he’d pull the macho man act and shove me away or tell me to fuck off, even though he clearly wanted it.

It turned me the fuck on to see his self-confidence shine through. He took what he wanted, and I was more than happy to give it to him, but that’s all it can be. That’s all I’ll let it be.

As soon as I left him on the porch looking confused and alone, I felt a twinge of guilt. And that’s why I’m here in my bathroom, preparing a line of coke on the countertop. Coke is slowly becoming my drug of choice. If I’m being honest with myself, it’s getting worse and worse as time goes on. I only started doing it after my grandmother died.

Before that, I was perfectly content with smoking some weed and getting drunk with a couple of friends. I didn’t party too much. I was hyper-focused on basketball and staying out of my dad’s way. Fuck that guy.

When I went to stay with my grandmother and help her out while she was slowly losing her life to end stage liver and kidney failure, I met a guy who lived next door to her. He offered me coke. I had tried it once before and didn’t really care about it afterward. But this time, it was different. It gave me what I needed to keep up with my happy persona in a time when I felt like my world was ending.

Looking down at the line, I waste no time rolling up a dollar bill and snorting it with quick efficiency. It’s like second nature to me now. I love the way my nose burns, and the taste that drips in the back of my throat. And most of all, I love the way my head is buzzing with lightness, giving me a feeling of freedom again. I quickly clean up the residue on the counter with my fingertip and rub it in to my gums.

I stroll back into the living room, and see Liam and Ant passing the bottle between each other, while Ben is on the floor leaning against the couch in front of Teddy, who’s still passed out. Why is Ben always so close to Teddy? I have a feeling Teddy’s got some not-so-straight feelings for Ben, and I don’t think he realizes it. For some reason, that doesn’t sit right with me.

Without thinking, I walk up to Ben and grab his arm, effectively pulling him up.

“Come, sit down. I didn’t buy this big-ass couch so my friends could sit on the floor.”

His eyebrows bunch together and his pierced nose scrunches up in confusion. Yeah, I’m the king of mixed signals. Whatever.

He takes a seat beside me. Since I’ve got my buzz going now, I launch into a very animated conversation with his friends about whether Pink Floyd is better than Led Zeppelin. Obviously, Led Zeppelin is the reigning champion, but they don’t agree.

The whole time we talk, Ben doesn’t say anything. Even though, I know he at least likes Led Zeppelin because I’ve seen him wear that old band shirt to school. He laughs sometimes, and smiles too, but otherwise stays silent. I sometimes find myself looking at him, noticing the freckles scattered across his beach tanned skin. I notice the way his two nose rings sit on his perfectly straight nose, and also the way he runs his hand through his long shaggy blond hair. Guys never want to be described as beautiful, but that’s exactly what he is. He looks like a surfer’s wet dream or some shit. He never catches me watching him. In fact, I’d guess he’s making an effort to avoid me.

That won’t do.

It’s probably for the best.

Actually, fuck it.

My buzz is going away, anyway. Interrupting the conversation, I say, “I’m gonna go get some sleep. There’re blankets in the closet by the bathroom.” They nod their heads.

“Night, man,” Liam says.

“I’ve got a king-size bed so if one of you wants to sleep in there with me, you can.”

Ben’s body stiffens next to me, so I continue, “Maybe Teddy, since he’s already sleeping, and y’all are still getting lit.”

I smirk, and Ben shoots off the couch giving me a menacing glare. “I’m ready to tap out too, guys. Night.”

Without waiting for their response, he marches off to my room.

Ant chuckles. “He gets grumpy when he’s tired.”

Mission accomplished.

4

Ben

I enter Damon’s room and stop abruptly, realizing I kind of barged in here. Well, whatever, that asshole had it coming. He knew offering to let Teddy sleep in his bed would get a rise out of me. But what I don’t understand is, why? Why does he want me in here, when he’s the one who ended things on the porch.

I shake my head, finally taking a moment to take in my surroundings. My gaze travels slowly around the mostly empty bedroom. The king-size bed takes up most of the floor, and there’s a bedside table with one picture frame on it. My feet move on their own and before I know it, I’ve got the wooden frame in my hands. A voice in the back of my head tells me I probably should put it down and quit being so damn nosy, but I look anyway.

It shows Damon sitting next to a hospital bed smiling bigger than I’ve ever seen him. An elderly lady lays on the bed, also hamming it up for the camera. She’s throwing up a peace sign, looking like all is fine in the world, but Damon’s eyes tell a different story.

Damon must have snuck up behind me at some point, because his arm reaches around me and grabs the picture frame, putting it back down, and then turns me around by my shoulder.

Giving me a patronizing expression, he says, “Didn’t take you for the snooping type.”

“I’d hardly call it snooping. It was right out in the open. Literally, the only thing in your room," I quip, rolling my eyes.

He cocks his head to the side, a smirk playing at his lips. Don’t look at his lips, my brain chastises.

“You really do get a little snappy when you’re tired, huh.”

I make a show of cranking up my middle finger at him with the most sarcastic smile I can manage. His laughter booms through the nearly empty room. The sound of it makes something flutter in my stomach, and my sarcastic smile turns into an incredibly real one.

He walks over to his mirrored closet while taking his shirt off. I’m so in awe of the way the muscles ripple through his back as he lifts the shirt over his head that my mouth falls open. I’ve never really ogled a guy openly like this, I mean, I can appreciate when a man is good-looking, but this is different. Heat washes through me at the realization. Is it suddenly like a thousand degrees in here?

“Are you going to keep staring at me or are you going to take those tight-as-fuck skinny jeans off so we can go to sleep?" he says over his shoulder.

I’m a shy guy. I’ve only had sex with one girl in the past, and I kept my shirt on the whole time. It’s not that I’m ashamed of how I look or anything, but for some reason, this feels different. He makes me nervous, even more so than I usually am.

I start taking off my jeans, anyway. His presence alone is commanding, and makes me want to try to be confident.

He turns around fully with a t-shirt in hand.

“Do you want this?" he says as his gaze travels up my exposed legs, stopping at my briefs for a second longer. My dick jumps at his casual perusal. Get it together.

I yank my shirt off quickly, and reach my hand to take the clean one he’s offering, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me closer to him, instead. He looks me directly in the eyes and says, “What’d I tell you about chewing on your lip?”

Shit. I didn’t even notice I was doing it; after actively trying not to the entire time I was sitting next to him on the couch earlier.

He’s so close, his breath fans over my mouth and I want to inhale it. His tongue darts out to lick across my lower lip painfully slow. My breath catches in my throat, and I freeze up as his lips meet mine. My hesitancy must fuel him more because he grabs the back of my neck, controlling the kiss. His other hand roams down my ribs, his callouses scraping along my skin in a way I didn’t expect to like. Everything about him is so hard and rough.

His hand continues down and around to my ass, igniting a fire through my skin. He palms it roughly, spreading me open a bit before pulling our hips together. His cock is as hard as stone, and it’s pressed against mine. I whimper into his mouth. All shields I put up come crashing to the ground around me as I start to thrust against him.

I want him closer.

I need him all around me.

He starts walking us backward, and the backs of my knees hit the mattress. Pushing me back so I’m laying down, the heels of my feet prop up on the bed frame. It catches me off guard, I’ve never been thrown around like this. Breaking the kiss, he straightens up a little. I’m suddenly hyperaware of the cool air brushing against my skin and my breath coming out in pants like I’ve run a mile.

His eyes burn with desire. He appears animalistic—jaw clenched hard and nostrils flared, taking deep, measured breaths. My gaze jumps around taking him in, the width of his shoulders, the hard slanted line of his collarbone. Wait. He has nipple rings?

I jerk upright, grabbing his sides, and lick across his pierced nipple. He hisses and grabs the back of my head, holding me there. I pull the metal barbell between my teeth, licking and sucking. He groans and pulls my head back by my hair.

Looking down through hooded eyes, he growls out, “If you want to suck on something, you should try my dick.”

My heart starts pounding rapidly in my chest, the nerves already taking over. I’ve never given a blowjob before, and I don’t want to embarrass myself. He must catch on because he leans down and grabs my chin forcing me to look up at him.

His thumb pulls on my lower lip as he whispers, “I want these perfect lips wrapped around my dick. Do you want that, pretty boy?”

Heat rushes to my face at the sound of that nickname again. Pretty boy. At the park, it seemed almost teasing, but just now when those words tumbled from his lips, it sounded like he really meant them.

I nod my head against his hand, then drop down to my knees on the floor so I’m at eye level with his cock. This entire situation is fucking crazy. I’ve never been this close to a guy’s dick before, and I’ve definitely never been in this position. But I want it. I need to make him feel good.

I grab his briefs with shaky hands and pull them down. His cock is huge—definitely bigger than mine—thick and veiny, and it has my mouth salivating already. How am I going to fit this in my mouth? The tip is glistening with precum so I flick my tongue across the head and taste it. He gasps above me, and his hips jerk forward. It doesn't actually taste bad, just a tad salty.

Feeling more confident by his reaction, I wrap my hand around the base and guide his dick into my mouth. I wrap my lips around it, covering my teeth, and let my tongue explore around the head before gliding my mouth lower. I risk glancing up to see his face and he looks so blissed out, I moan around his dick. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, his mouth parted in ecstasy as he looks down at me. “Yeah. Just like that,” he says, barely in a whisper. My jaw already feels a bit sore, but I could care less. The look of sheer ecstasy on his face has me soaking my briefs with precum. I want to be the best he’s ever had.

I hollow my cheeks out, applying suction and move my head up and down. I use my tongue again, swirling it around his dick as I suck, and it makes his hips jut forward, pushing further into my mouth.

He grips my jaw with both hands, tilting my face up. “Let me fuck your mouth," he rasps, sounding so sexy, I could die.

Without thinking twice, I nod around his dick. I drop my hand and grab his muscular thighs, and he starts thrusting into my mouth, shallow at first. His thighs begin to tremble as he speeds up. I gag, but he tilts my head just right so he can pound into my throat. He looks me in the eyes while he fucks my mouth like a madman. Dropping my hand to my briefs, I pull my dick out and start stroking. There’s so much precum that my hand is flying up and down with ease.

“Your mouth feels so fucking good, Ben," he praises, and I moan, my hand stroking even faster. His movements become jerky and erratic.

“I’m gonna come," he pants, loosening his grip on my head, but I push in even deeper, my lips wrapped around the base of him.

He lets out a deep groan, and I feel his thick cock pulsing against my tongue while he empties down my throat. That fucking groan has my balls tightening up as my orgasm barrels through me.

I’m still trembling from the aftershocks of my climax when he pulls out of my mouth swiftly, dragging me up to standing position. He grabs my hand, covered in my cum, and pulls it to his mouth, looking into my eyes, as he licks and sucks the mess off of it.

He shows me his tongue with my cum pooled in the middle of it. Before I can think twice, he yanks my head to his and crashes our mouths together, and I moan as I suck on it. Our tastes mix together in my mouth. This is the dirtiest thing I’ve ever done, and much to my surprise, it’s turning me on so much. I’m moaning and whimpering into his mouth, barely standing on my own. His strong arms wrap around me, holding me up.

The kiss slows and turns gentle. Slowly, he removes his lips and looks at me with an expression I can’t place.

“Have you sucked anyone off before?” he questions, quirking his brow at me.

I laugh because of how ridiculous the question is, but his face is dead serious. I make myself stop long enough to say, “Does it matter?”

That was the wrong thing to say, or maybe the right thing because he grabs my arm and pulls me to the bed. We lie on our sides, facing each other.

It’s almost comical the way he looks sort of pouty. I smirk. I affect him, even if it’s something as dumb as if he’s my first blowjob or not. He wraps his arm around me, drawing me in closer, and I burrow my face into his neck. We’re still completely naked, but I don’t think any of the guys will walk in here whenever they all wake up. Even if they did, I don’t really care. I’m going to tell them soon either way. My eyelids grow heavy as I think about how I can tell my best friends I suddenly like dick. A dick. I’m not sure of the specifics yet, but it doesn’t matter. I’m just trying to make it to tomorrow.

5

Ben

The bed dips as Damon gets up, causing me to wake up. Blinking slowly, I ask, “What time is it?” The sun is shining brightly through the window, so it must be late. He rubs his knuckles against his eyes and grabs his phone, squinting down at it.

He has a lot of notifications; I wish that wasn’t the first thing I notice, but apparently my insecurities are already making an ugly spectacle of themselves. I shove my head into the pillow and squeeze my eyes shut. We’re not even dating. Giving a blowjob doesn’t equate to dating, even if it was the most mind-blowing sexual experience I’ve ever had.

“It’s three in the afternoon," he grumbles, voice deep and scratchy from sleep. I love it.

He heads over to his closet and throws on some gym shorts, absentmindedly swiping his hand down his chest. I know what those hands feel like now, and it gives me a confusing amount of satisfaction that they were all over me last night.

Shaking my head, I decide it’s time to get up and check in with the guys. I grab my jeans off the floor and throw on my t-shirt. It smells like sweat, which grosses me out. Usually after wild nights like these, I stay over at Antonio’s, and wear his clothes if I have to crash there.

Damon grabs my arm, and turns me to look at him. I get a quick glance of his broad, muscular back in the closet mirror.

“Are you going to tell them about what happened last night? I don’t care either way, I just want to know what to expect.”

He says it nonchalantly, like it was just a one night hookup, which makes my stomach drop a little bit. I was kind of hoping for a repeat… or many repeats. I know I have a tendency to get attached to people or things; my therapist has pointed it out a time or two, but I like to chase happiness and keep it around. I don’t get it much, so it’s precious to me.

One thing is for sure, though. He has a dick and it turned me on. At the very least, I need to explore that.

“Yeah. I’m gonna tell them. They’re my best friends and they’ll notice something’s off with me; plus, they’ll probably notice when they see me trying to flirt with guys now.” I laugh.

“Oh, yeah, you want to flirt with guys now?" he asks. He wears a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his honey-brown eyes.

“I mean, last night was super hot. I want to do that again.” I shrug, like it’s not a big deal, but it’s a huge deal. Please say you want to do it again too.

He nods his head, his expression unreadable. I never know what he’s thinking, but I don’t wonder for too long because he simply turns around and heads out of the room. I hear the bathroom door close and that’s the end of that. Not interested. Got it.

I head into the living room, where Teddy’s already sitting up, scrolling through his phone, and Ant and Liam are still passed out. I sit down on the floor in front of Teddy since the rest of the couch is full, distantly aware of the shower running in the bathroom. He reaches out and ruffles my wild morning hair.

“Lucky ass! You got to sleep in an actual bed last night.”

I chuckle to myself, shaking my head. He doesn’t know the half of it.

I knock my head back on his knee a few times, gnawing on my lip with nerves. I’m pretty sure they won’t care, none of us are like that, but I don’t want anything to change between us. These are the most important people in my life, and I like our comfortable dynamic. Their consistent friendship literally keeps me going.

“I’ve got some shit to tell you, man," I mumble. “I want to wait until the guys are up, though.”

He springs up, bouncy curls flying all over the place, and starts shaking them roughly. “Come on! Wake up! Let’s go!" he's yelling.

I can’t help the wide smile spreading across my face. And when Liam shoots out, his arm grabbing Teddy around his neck and pulling him down, I start full-on cracking up.

“Go back to sleep. Why are you always so fucking chipper in the mornings, dude?" he grumbles. He still hasn’t opened his eyes yet, and Teddy is struggling to get out of his grip.

Stifling my laughter, I say, “It’s like three in the afternoon, get up. We got stuff to do.”

At that exact moment, Damon walks out of the bathroom, the scent of his body wash rushing into the living room. My eyes are drawn to him immediately. He’s in those basketball shorts, toweling his hair, walking toward us.

Liam looks over at him, arm still pinning down a grunting Teddy. “Nice nips, dude," he says, dead serious. “I’ve been thinking about getting some myself.”

A laugh bursts out of me. And now I’m thinking about how I licked Damon’s nipples last night, which has me thinking about Liam with nipple rings, in turn making me grimace. Okay, I definitely am not attracted to Liam, but that could be because we’re such close friends. I’m not attracted to all girls, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like them.

“Hurts like a bitch, to be honest, man. But the men dig it," he muses.

“I bet they do," Liam says with a dirty smirk on his face. “Bet the ladies love it, too.”

I roll my eyes at him, and he lets Teddy go. His face is all red as he collapses to the floor, throwing Liam dirty looks, but he has a small smile on his face.

Ant’s up now after all of our raucous laughter. He’s still rubbing his face and clears his throat. “We better head out. Got some shit to do before the party tonight.”

He’s always the voice of reason for us. Most of the time, we all agree with him, and today’s no different.

“Alright, just meet back up here around eight so we can head out.” He walks to the hallway and tosses his towel into his room.

“Before we go, let me get a half ounce off you," Ant calls out.

He has a job at the Publix grocery store down the street, and he spends a lot of his money on weed, unsurprisingly. But he shares a lot of it with us too. He also helps his mom with the bills a little.

When Damon starts weighing out the weed at the dining room table, I head into the bathroom to wash my face and hands as well as gargle some water. It’ll have to do for now until I get back to Ant’s place. I take a few deep breaths, looking at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are hollow, since I don’t get to eat much anymore. They make my eyes look even bigger than they already are.

My dad wasn’t always like this. He used to cook dinner every night, and we’d eat together at the table. We had Blockbuster movie nights, and he used to smile and laugh. He doesn’t do that anymore. Always exhausted or blank or angry. Now he doesn’t even buy groceries, misses work a lot, and sometimes disappears for a few days. My dad had me when he was twenty years old, so he’s only thirty-seven, but his face looks much older. The wrinkles around his eyes show how he’s worked in the blazing Florida sun for so long. Life has been hard on him.

There’s a pounding at the door, which makes me jump. “Come on, I need to piss,” Liam calls out. Smiling to myself, I shake my head and open the door. Brushing past him, I head into the living room.

I’m feeling less nervous around Damon after last night, so I saunter up to him in the kitchen. He’s gulping down some Gatorade, and my eyes zero in on his wide throat bobbing up and down.

“Yo, can I bum a cig?” I ask as he caps the Gatorade, lifting a perfect, pierced brow at me.

“Sure. They’re on the back porch.”

I nod and turn around heading out. “I’ll be out there smoking, just call out when y’all are leaving,” I say to Teddy and Ant, pointing to the sliding glass door. I could’ve smoked in the house, but I wanted some fresh air.

I grab a smoke and take a long drag, immediately feeling relaxation seep into my body and mind. I’m slowly getting more and more addicted to these things, and I can’t find it in myself to care. There’re worse addictions in this world, that’s for sure. I take a moment to check out his neighborhood in the daylight. The balcony is on the back of the apartment building and all of the buildings share a grassy field back here. There are some kids kicking around a ball and having a wholesome summer day. I miss that. Everything is so different now. I wonder if they’ll grow up and be happy, or if they’ll end up fucked-up like us.

The door slides open, and Teddy pops his head out, yelling, “Let’s go,” and slams it back shut again. Taking a final drag of my cigarette, I smash it into the ashtray.

Walking back through the house, I notice Damon’s nowhere to be seen. I find myself feeling thankful for that. Outside, I meet up with the gang, and we start walking.

“Let’s head to the park and smoke, before we all go home,” Ant says, earning a nod from all of us in agreement.

By the time we reach the park, we’re sufficiently sweaty and wide awake. The pavilion we sit in is empty and the actual playground itself is far away across a field, so it’s not a big deal to smoke here. No matter what we plan to do at any given point in time, our first step is to always get stoned. Yeah, we smoke a lot and we drink. Occasionally, we’ve done other things like molly, acid, and ecstasy. It’s what we do, always chasing a good time.

Poor kids and rich kids are a lot alike in that way—little to no parental supervision, so we always end up on our own. We pretty much do whatever we want like adults. The only difference is we don’t have Mommy and Daddy’s money, so often we have to go without, or we utilize questionable methods to get what we need and want. Fuck if I care. This is the hand I was dealt, and I’ll make the best of it.

The blunt goes around a few times as we sit in relative silence. “I need to tell you guys something,” I announce unceremoniously.

It feels like now or never, and my hands are already shaking at the magnitude of it all.

“I gave Damon a blowjob last night.” The words rush from my mouth. It feels as if any sound has been sucked from the air. No birds chirping, no swaying palm fronds, no distant laughter of kids. My eyes are wide, burning a hole through the wooden beams above us. My hands are clasped under my chin, and although I’m not religious, I am most definitely sending up a silent prayer right now.

Ant clears his throat to break the tension. “So," he draws the word out, “did you like it?”

My mouth falls open in shock, and I finally look at his face. He’s holding back laughter. I’m so confused when everyone bursts out laughing, except for Teddy. He’s completely silent, and I can see his palms rubbing together under the rotting wooden picnic table.

I’m having a hard time formulating a complete sentence right now. Ant reaches across the table and cups my shoulder, breaking me from my inner turmoil. “Dude, we don’t care. I’m just glad you finally got some.”

“So what does this mean? Do you still like girls?” Liam asks.

“Um, yeah, I do. Well, I think so.” I look down at my lap. “It all happened so fast last night, but I wanted to do it. I want to do it again, actually," I say the last part with confidence, meeting his dark eyes. I need to own my shit.

“Well, maybe you can get some at the party tonight," Ant adds. “We definitely will,” he says with a devious grin, bumping his shoulder against Liam’s.

Teddy’s still silent next to me, and I can tell something is off. I hope he doesn’t have a problem with me now. So I bump his shoulder. “You okay, man?”

“Just hungover,” he says, avoiding my gaze. Okay, that was a lie. I wrinkle my brows at him. I’ll have to talk to him alone at some point.

The conversation shifts back to our plans for today, and I feel a seed of happiness. I’m thankful for these guys.

After spending a couple hours bullshitting at the park, we all went our separate ways. I came back to Ant’s house, since mine is pretty far away. We’re sprawled out on his bed, enjoying the air-conditioned house, scrolling through our phones in comfortable silence. His place is like a second home to me with how much time I’ve spent here.

He sits up against the wall behind his bed. “So, are we going to talk about it?” he probes.

I sigh and sit up, facing him. We are the closest, after all. I expected he’d want the details.

“When did this all start? Have you always been into guys?” he questions, looking a little upset. “You know you can tell me anything, man.”

“I never really felt like I was into guys, you know? Like, I’ve never looked at a guy and wanted to fuck him. But I do think I’ve always looked at them a little differently. I guess, maybe I’ve been curious. I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I don’t really look at it like that, nor do I care what they’ve got in their pants. If I like someone, then that’s enough for me.”

“Okay, I get it. I think that makes you pansexual.”

I bunch my eyebrows together. “How do you even know that?”

“I’m not a complete idiot, Ben,” he says, looking away from me. Uh. Okay. “So what’s the story with Damon? Why him?”

I launch into the whole story, recalling everything that happened yesterday, including at the park. I even give him the dirty details of the blowjob, and he cracks up. We share everything together, so this is no different. I remember when he lost his virginity a couple years ago and he told me all about it. I chuckle to myself, thinking back on it. He was so excited, practically exploding with the information.

When I’m done, he simply says, “I think you need to look extra fresh for the party tonight.”

“It doesn’t matter, really. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want anything serious, probably just a one-night stand," I say with a shrug.

“You’re going to find someone to make out with, at the very least tonight," he says to me, with a smile. “It’ll be fun for you, and you’ll find out if he gets jealous or not. It’s a win-win.”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“But listen, dude.” His face grows serious. “I know how you are. I’m honestly surprised you went so far with him last night. I’m assuming it’s because he has a more dominant personality, but you were okay with it all. Usually, you’re a relationship kind of guy. If it was only a one-time thing with him, that’s okay. At least now you know you like dick, just don’t get hung up on him.” He gives me a pointed look.

Well, shit. He always sees right through me.

“I’ll be fine, man.” I shrug. “I need to get a shower, though.”

He nods his head, looking unsure and starts playing rap music on his Bluetooth speaker.

When I’m done, I saunter back into the room with a towel wrapped around my waist, feeling ten times better than before. It’s funny how something as simple as taking a scalding hot shower and brushing your teeth can change your whole outlook on life.

Ant hops up wordlessly to go get cleaned up, so I hook my phone up to the speaker and start blasting “Blinding Lights” by Fame of Fire, hyping myself up for the party.

I know my favorite pair of jeans is here, so I start rummaging through the pile of clothes in his closet. When I find them, a smile stretches across my face. Finding these jeans is a good omen for tonight. I put them on, making an effort to not get my toes caught in the rips in them—which is fucking impossible. I look through Ant’s band tees, the ones that are actually hung up, settling on a black Bring me the Horizon one. The sleeves are cut off, and it shows my sides. Taking a look in the mirror on his door, I comb my fingers through my damp, wavy hair.

I collapse back onto the bed when Ant comes back in. “Start rolling a blunt, will ya," he jokes.

“Sir, yes, sir." I mock salute. His mom doesn’t care if we smoke, she only asks us to not smoke in the house. Easy enough.

By the time I’m done rolling up, Ant’s dressed and ready to go. We head out to the canal at the end of his street. It’s quite nostalgic being here. There’s a small patch of woods on the other side that hasn’t been torn down yet for a new shopping plaza or building, and we used to hang out there when we’d cut school back in eighth grade. We had it set up with lawn chairs and everything.

Ant pulls out his phone and calls Liam, telling him to meet us at the park. He’s with Teddy so they’ll show up together.

I heave a sigh. Who knows what will happen tonight.

6

Damon

Why the fuck did I do that? Why the fuck am I waiting for him and his friends to get here so we can go to a party together? I should be avoiding him at all costs. I rub my palm down my face for the thousandth time today.

Flashes of him have been replaying through my head all day—his ridiculously big blue eyes welling up with tears as he gagged on my dick. I keep focusing on his eyes because they say everything that he won’t. They’re so expressive. He was nervous and surprised and maybe a little confused. He wanted to please me, and was definitely just as turned on as I was.

I’m honest enough with myself to know I want to have him again—more than once. There are problems with that line of thought, though. He’s never been with a guy before me, well, I don’t think he has. It didn’t seem like it. He’s probably just experimenting, and I don’t want to be anyone’s experiment.

The most important thing, though, is I’m a piece of shit. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life, and I fuck everything up. I’m not even trying to be self-deprecating, it’s just the truth. I can’t find it in myself to care about anything enough to keep it whole. He wouldn’t like what he sees if he really got to know me. It’d be selfish of me to keep this up with him.

Pounding at the door startles me from my thoughts. I open it, and they all crowd into my living room.

“You know you don’t have to knock like the police, right?" I deadpan.

“Gotta keep you on your toes, man," Liam jokes. I shake my head on my way to the kitchen.

I pull out a bottle of vodka and start pouring out shots. Can’t head out without pre-gaming first.

We all throw back several shots in a row to get hyped up for the long night we have ahead of us. I check out Ben when he’s not paying attention. He looks smoking hot tonight with those ripped jeans on. I can see his sides and stomach through the cutoff sleeves of his shirt. His hair hair looks wild as always, and he’s got some chunky skull rings on. Damn. I doubt I’ll make it through the night without touching him again.

Trying to escape those thoughts, I tell everyone, “Alright, if any of y’all end up leaving the party with someone else, make sure you let me know. I’m not hunting down any of your asses tonight. You guys can crash here if you make it to my car when I’m leaving.”

“Heard that, chief,” Ant says.

“Let’s ride.”

Somehow Ben ends up in the front seat, which makes me slightly annoyed. How am I supposed to keep my hands to myself if he’s always around me like this? I’ll have to steer clear of him tonight; I don’t trust myself to not do something stupid when I’m fucked-up. Sad truth.

I’m blasting “Not the American Average” by Asking Alexandria, and it sounds fucking epic with my sound system. Ben’s fingers tap to the beat on his thigh. He painted them black at some point today. Has he always done that? The guys in the back are head banging and rowdy. These dudes are actually really cool. All of my supposed friends kind of fell off after graduation. I don’t know if it’s because I left for the summer or if they were never really true to begin with. Probably the latter.

Jasper’s the only one who stuck around through it all. He’s always been there since the first day of freshman year. I’m not much of a talker, and I was new to town. I was sitting alone, because everyone was busy chattering amongst themselves since they already knew each other from middle school. He was pretty wiry and thin, back then. He walked up and sat at the desk in front of mine and started drilling me with questions. I gave him the short answers at the time, of course. I didn’t think he was actually interested in getting to know me. But by the end of class, he said, “You’re really philosophical.” I finally cracked a smile. And little did I know that we’d go through a million things together over the next five years.

“Yo, can we stop to buy some beer?" Liam yells over the music, tapping my shoulder to get my attention.

“Already planned on it." I smirk at him through the rearview mirror.

“My man!" he cheers.

Eventually, we roll up to the party. We have to park at the beginning of the street, even though the house is the last one on the left. Well, it’s not really a house, more like a little courtyard of shitty apartments. But these people throw parties every single weekend, and nine times out of ten, one of the neighbors calls the cops. Nothing ever happens though, because everyone crowds into the apartment when they see the red and blue lights flashing.

Partying is a good time and all, but I don’t really care much about it. What I do care about is networking. I sell weed to all of these people. These parties earn me decent money, so I have to keep up appearances. The guys get out of the car, and I grab an ounce out of my center console and shove it into my pocket, along with a scale and some baggies. I’ll probably have to come back to my car later to get some more.

I get out and step alongside them as we head up the dark street. Cars line both sides and most of them have people crowded around them. Each car is like a party in itself. Some people dap me up as I walk by, but they keep it short. Someone asks for an eighth, so I tell the guys I’ll catch up with them.

I head to his car and scale it out on top of the center console while he tells me about this chick he banged after the party last weekend. I act interested, but I could care less. I toss him a fake-ass smile and tell him to hit me up as I walk away.

This is an interesting party because the guys who throw it are in a band, and they tend to play live music throughout the night. They have a full setup in their living room. I love rap music, but I also love rock. Most parties bump hits, but these guys are pretty original with their soundtrack. I can hear a guitar solo ringing out through an amp up ahead. The closer I get to the house, the more dense the crowd gets. There’s a circle of people around a guy, who I vaguely recognize. He’s playing “Wonderwall” by Oasis on an acoustic guitar. I laugh to myself; he always plays it at least once a night, and the girls swoon over him for it.

I know it’s kind of messed up, but there’s people of all ages here, from like sixteen and up. The oldest guy I’ve met here is probably in his thirties. I’ve seen some seedy shit go down with these underage girls, and have had to intervene a few times, but for the most part, it’s a chill atmosphere.

I rock up to the house and I can hear the song they're playing more clearly. It’s “The Ballad of Johnny Butt” by Sublime. I can usually find Trevor in here, so I look around the small room, crowded full of people, and spot him. He’s got long, straight brown hair and a real southern accent since he moved here from Georgia.

I dap him up. “What’s up, man?" I say. “I need to buy an eight ball.”

“Say no more." He smiles, and I can tell he’s already super geeked up. I need to get on his level so I can endure the long night ahead of me. He takes me to his bedroom since he actually lives here. Trevor’s a really cool dude, he’s like thirty and his favorite band is Led Zeppelin. He’s got tons of their memorabilia in his room on the walls and on shelves. His girlfriend, Laura, is lying on his bed, typing away on her phone.

“Hey, Damon," she says, giving me a big smile. She’s really sweet, always prancing around in sundresses and shit. It’s not the first time I find myself wondering what the hell she’s doing with Trevor.

He gives me my blow and takes some of his own, putting down two lines for us to do. We take turns snorting them. Instantly, I feel hyped up. The powder shoots right up in the brain, like an electric shock. I can already feel my face going a little numb. I pull out my house key, reach into my own bag, and take a couple more bumps before turning around and heading out of there.

I make my way through the house to go outside, since it’s way too crowded in there. My heart is already beating too fast from the blow. Once outside, I start making my rounds selling weed to the regulars and a few new customers. I’m out of weed within the hour and I need to head back to my car. As soon as I get there, I grab a book I keep in here specifically for this reason. I draw out a line and snort it quickly. I also take a few more bumps. The thing about coke is it shoots you really fucking high, but you come down quickly. It’s a greedy drug; you always have to do more and more of it.

My teeth clench together, and I know my jaw will probably be sore tomorrow. I reach into the backseat and grab the forty-ounce beer I left there. It’s kind of warm now, but I really don’t give a fuck. I crack it open and guzzle it down.

My thoughts are swirling in my head, but one thing stands out. I haven’t seen Ben, yet. I saw the rest of them, but not him. It doesn’t matter. I need to find someone else to hook up with tonight.

Now that I’ve pinpointed that one thought, it’s my sole focus. I’m intent on making it happen. So, I put on my happy guy, life of the party act, and head to the wolves.

Maybe the guy who blew me last weekend would be down again. What was his name? Connor? Collin? Doesn’t matter. I seek him out, and now that I’ve really started looking, I see moonlight dancing on dirty blond curls. Ben.

He’s pretty far away, and I know he can’t see me. He’s talking to a girl, and she’s standing directly in front of him. Her hand is on his chest and he’s smiling at her. I scoff. What the fuck is he so happy about? A couple of people turn to look at me, but I don’t pay them any attention because the next thing I know, she’s leaning in and kissing him. On the lips. The same big, perfectly soft lips that were wrapped around my cock last night.

I thought my coked up brain was on a mission before, but this is way different. I throw my bottle back, gulp it down, and toss it into the grass. There was still half of it left in there, and I took it straight to the head. I’m definitely fucked up now. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be able to make an ass of myself like this.

I stalk toward him, a fake smile plastered on my face. It probably looks more sinister than anything else, since I’m not even remotely happy. He finally notices me, and he’s smart because he immediately separates himself from her.

Now that I’m up close, I can tell he’s sweating. But he’s sweating way more than he should be. My gaze narrows in on his jaw, the clenching and unclenching motion. His eyes are wide open and they look black because his pupils are dilated.

He’s definitely high and I’d bet he took ecstasy, since that’s what most of these people are taking.

“Um. Who are you?” The girl's squeaky voice jolts me from my thoughts.

“I’m Damon," I say without looking at her.

I reach out and grab Ben’s arm and drag him away. I hear the girl saying to herself, “What the fuck was that about?”

Your guess is as good as mine.

I’m not sure where I’m taking him, and he still hasn’t said anything, but I let go of his arm and he’s still following behind me. I lead him behind one of the neighbors' apartments. There’s about three feet of space between the wall and a chain-link fence. It’s darker back here, almost pitch black since there are no porch lights and we’re far from the street lamps.

Quickly, I turn around, grab him and shove him against the wall, pinning him from behind with my body. His palms are splayed out on the wall on either side of his head. My hands wrap around his abdomen, and he whimpers.

Leaning in, I whisper directly into his ear, “Are you rolling right now?”

His whole body shudders against mine. “Yes," he hisses. “Ant and I took some beans earlier.”

“Were you going to fuck that girl?" I ask. My voice sounds different even to my own ears.

“I don’t know. No, probably not," he whispers. His response has me fuming, and I know I’m a fucking hypocrite, but as usual, I can’t find it in me to care.

He can tell I’m pissed because he pushes his ass back and rubs it against my groin. “I want you," he mumbles, sounding unsure of himself.

“Say it again," I seethe into his ear, causing him to tremble.

He speaks louder this time, “I want you, Damon. I need you right now.”

The desperation in his voice has blood rushing to my cock. I groan and press my face into his neck, biting his skin hard to make him feel some pain, and then suck on it hard enough to leave a hickey. I reach under his shirt, trailing my palms down his sides, feeling every rib under my fingertips. I bet it feels fucking amazing for him since he’s rolling. He keeps pushing his ass against me and moaning my name. He’s completely different than he was last night. Right now, he’s a needy mess, and it’s the hottest fucking thing ever. Because he’s needy for me.

Silent pleas come rushing from his mouth. “More. Touch me all over. Everywhere.”

I splay my palms out flat rubbing them up and down his chest and abdomen, making sure to graze his nipples with my thumbs. When my hands reach the waistband of his jeans, I tease along the edges. I can feel where the V shape of his abdomen leads to; there’s space because he’s so thin. I shove my hands in and instantly make contact with his cock. It's standing straight up, begging for my attention. I pull my hands back out and he whines, but I quickly unbutton his jeans and shove them halfway down his thighs, taking his briefs along with them. His whole body shivers, the air probably feels euphoric on his hot skin right now.

I grab his dick with one hand and turn his face toward mine with the other, catching him in a claiming and possessive kiss. I shove my tongue in as far as I can go while I stroke his cock. He moans into my mouth, and my cock throbs in response, my hips bucking into him. I drop my hand down and grab his ass, squeezing and pulling on it.

He’s panting and his throat sounds dry as he keeps on chanting more and please. Letting go of his ass, I pull out my own dick and start jacking off. It only takes a few strokes before I’m groaning. I make sure to come on his ass. He cranes his neck around, his eyes wide with confusion.

I run my fingers through the cum, and start massaging it over his hole. His head falls forward resting on the wall. He’s writhing around, pressing back on my hand. I slip one finger in, breaching the tight ring of his muscle easily. He’s so ready for me right now. The thought has me groaning into his neck. I start working my finger in and out of him before adding another. I twist them around to find that special spot. I know when I touch it because he lets out a loud cry. I keep hitting it while jacking him off, and it’s not long before he explodes onto the wall.

His body goes limp, so I support him with my arm slowly withdrawing my fingers. I pull his pants back up and turn him around, pinning him back on the wall. His eyelids are heavy; he looks ready to fall asleep. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth is open, still panting. Sweat beads on his forehead.

“You’re coming back home with me, right now,” I rasp as I trail my fingertips down his face. He nods at me. I see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat.

I pull out my phone and see a text from Ant saying he left with someone already, so we need to go find Teddy and Liam. I’m feeling too drunk to drive right now after all the shots and beer, so I pull out my blow to take a few bumps; it’ll sober me up enough to get home.

Ben goes still in front of me. “I didn’t know you did that stuff,” he says. He doesn’t sound mad, more like curious than anything.

“I don’t do it much. Only at parties.” Lies.

He makes a noncommittal noise and starts to button his pants and run his fingers through his wild hair. I make a mental note to pull his hair next time. Next time?

Before it can gain any momentum, I cut that thought short. “Let’s go find Teddy and Liam.”

7

Ben

I’m rolling balls right now. And Damon finger-fucked my ass at that party after acting like some kind of animal. Everything is so strange. I can hardly believe Damon Masters looked at me like that, like he wanted to devour me.

My vision is still vibrating and so is my body, but I can feel myself coming down bit by bit. I feel my limbs melting into this overly soft bed. There’s music playing in the living room. “Options” by Hippie Sabotage. The bass in the song is hitting me in waves and it feels like I’m floating on a cloud.

Maybe I should go out there and join them, I should grab some water, anyway. I initially thought I wanted to come in here and crash, or at least calm the buzzing energy inside of me, but I’m still rolling too hard. I rip my shirt off over my head and the cool air feels wet on my skin. I groan in ecstasy. The sensations are so overwhelming, they’re hitting me at so many different angles.

Need water. That’s right. I head out to the living room. Damn, why did I want to be in the room again? The red lights out here are a total vibe right now. Damon is on the couch, his big legs spread wide like an invitation for me, although it’s probably not. But I go straight over to him and sit on his lap, wrapping my legs around him. His body goes rigid, but I nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his scent. He smells like sweat and cigarettes and heaven. I groan again.

I hear Liam whistling at us. “Get a room!" he calls out, laughing.

I smile wide into Damon's neck. I know for a fact I wouldn’t have the guts to do this if I wasn’t rolling. I’ve never been one to openly show affection like this, but I’m so glad I did. Even if it’s just for tonight, I’m riding high on these intense feelings.

“I need water," I whisper in a tiny voice. My eyes are closed, and I’m enjoying the feeling of his body pressed against mine and his arms wrapped around my waist. His hand rubs up and down the skin of my back, sending ripples of pleasure through me. My eyes are closed and the music is pumping through me. It’s loud and quiet at the same time, so I’m not sure if he heard me, but then he asks one of them to get me some water, and in a few moments I’m peeling myself from him and gulping it down. It feels strange, running down my throat, but it’s doing its job of cooling various parts of my body.

I lay my head back down, inhaling him. I don’t know how long we stay like that—him talking to my friends and me enjoying the way his voice vibrates through my bones. But, now I feel almost normal again and incredibly tired. Damon notices my plight and stands up with me-- clinging to him like a koala bear-- and takes us to his bed.

I wake up to big arms wrapped around me. My mouth feels like a desert; I obviously didn’t drink enough water last night. I open my eyes blinking a few times, and it's dark in the room, except for the warm glow of streetlights. So, we slept through the entire day.

Damon starts to move around behind me, jostling the covers. I feel his hard-on pressed against my back. I imagine myself turning around and waking him up with a blowjob, but I don’t really know if he’d be okay with that. And I don’t think I have the guts to do it, anyway. Letting out a deep sigh, I pry his heavy arm off, which takes more effort than I expected. I need to clean myself up because I feel disgusting. All the sweat and smoke and grime from last night's party has my skin crawling. My tongue feels like sandpaper, so I head into the kitchen, grab a bottle of water and chug it down. Liam and Teddy are still sprawled out on the couch sleeping.

I don’t want to ask Damon for a ride home, but the buses don’t run this late on Sundays. I lay back down on his bed and scroll through my phone aimlessly, waiting until he wakes up.

It’s not long before he does. He cracks open one bleary eye at me, and swipes a hand down his face aggressively.

“What time is it?" he says, his voice heavy with sleep.

“It’s ten at night," I say smoothly, even though my nerves are going haywire right now. I don’t know how he’ll act around me after everything that happened last night. Ugh. My skin prickles with embarrassment as the image of myself on his lap, purring like a fucking kitten for hours appears in my head. I carefully avoid his gaze.

Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice, just sits up and grabs his phone.

“Do you think you could give me a ride home?" I ask since I need to be home for therapy tomorrow.

“Uh, sure, no problem," he hesitates. “You feeling okay?”

I look into his eyes trying to gauge his reaction, but it’s impossible. “Yeah, I’m good, need to get home and get a shower though.” I pull a gross face, and his mouth crooks up at the side.

He quickly throws on some gym shorts and grabs his keys. I’ve already got my shirt and shoes on ready to go.

The drive to my house is quiet. He’s playing “Man on the Moon” by Kid Cudi, at a low volume, letting the whole album shuffle through. I’ve noticed we like a lot of the same music, but this is important to me. Kid Cudi is one of my favorites of all time. I find myself fighting a small smile, looking out the window.

We’re getting closer to my house, so I get a little brave. If it backfires, I’ll have a quick escape.

“So, do you want to do this again?" I stumble over the words.

He doesn’t say anything for a second, and my chest starts tightening up. Shit.

He’s looking intently at the road, leaned back in a relaxed position. I focus my gaze on his big hands gripping the wheel. He clears his throat.

“Let’s just take it slow for now.”

I don’t know why, but his response disappoints me. It’s not like I want to get married or anything, but I feel so good when I’m around him. I want him to feel that way with me, too.

“You just want to hook up and stuff?" I say, going for casual. He nods his head.

“So, it’s cool for me to hook up with other people, too, right?” The words rush from my mouth, and his jaw immediately ticks. “Because I distinctly remember you having a problem with it last night.”

“Who do you want to hook up with, Ben?" he grits out. “Teddy?”

My eyes are wide with shock as I look at him. Teddy? I’d think he was joking, but his mouth is pressed into a hard line.

“No. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on here," I say, motioning between us with my hand.

“Nothing’s going on here," he sneers. “Feel free to fuck whoever you want.”

His tone is harsh and callous, like I’m nothing. Like he didn’t have his fingers buried in my ass last night because I kissed some girl. I know he wants me. He really expects me to believe that line of bullshit? I’ll play along though.

I let out a dry laugh. “Okay. No problem.” Silence steels through the car. I point out my house and he pulls in the driveway. I get out quickly, and he peels out of my driveway.

He can ice me out all he wants. I don’t need him, I want him. Luckily for me, I’m very accustomed to not getting what I want.

Four o’clock rolls around, and I make sure to get stoned and clean up my room a little before Sam gets here. She knows I smoke and do other drugs occasionally, but she doesn’t mind. She says that’s not what she’s here for. That if she thinks it’s becoming a problem, she’ll speak up.

She knocks on the front door and I’m so happy to see her. She greets me with a large smile that lights up her entire face. I swear this woman is like a ray of sunshine in my life. I lead her back to my room, and she takes her usual spot on the pale leather couch, and I sit on my bed facing her.

It’s such a welcome sight—seeing her sitting there after being away for two months. Two months of dealing with so much on my own. I utilized the techniques she’s taught me over the past year, but it doesn’t hold a candle to checking in with her every week. It’s like a restart button. I need that. A week may not seem long or impactful in the grand scheme of things, but it is for me. I need to take life one day at a time.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Ben." Her cheery, melodic voice rings out. “How was your summer with your mom? I think we should start there. Probably a lot of ground to cover.” She gives me a knowing look.

I let out a deep sigh. It holds the weight of these last eight weeks, and damn does it feel good. I can finally let it all out. I figured that’s what we’d talk about anyway, even though I need to vent about this weekend. Our sessions are only thirty minutes, and we almost always go over time. It’s more important to start at the beginning. There’s always next week's session to talk about Damon’s dramatic introduction into my life.

So I launch into the story of my summer vacation. Although, it didn’t feel like a vacation. It was hell. I tell her everything with as much detail as I can. I tell her about my mom’s worsening drug use, how she’s clearly abusing her pain pills and possibly doing something more sinister, like heroin. I tell her about her abusive boyfriend and how I spent the entire time walking on eggshells and avoiding him. I told her about the one time my grandma called the cops on him after he tried to choke her. I even mentioned the neighbor, Mel, who helped us out so many times.

Through all of this, she listened intently, only interrupting me to clarify something. The emotions that passed over her face were always genuine. At the end of my spiel, she said, “Do you want to go back there again next summer? I know you’ll be graduated—hopefully.” She gives me a pointed look. She’s always been concerned about my truancy. Last year, she even made a deal with me—I’d get to open a gift at each session if I went to school four days straight. I think I only got to open two presents. It still makes me feel awful to think about how I disappointed her.

Snapping myself back to her question, I already know the answer. “I don’t see any reason to visit her again. Unless she gets clean or something.”

She nods her head. “I thought so. Well, something good came out of it all at least. You know what you deserve, and you’re ready to draw a line.”

It feels a little harsh to completely cut my mom out, but only because she is technically my mom. Our relationship has never been consistent, and I’ve never felt all that connected to her. We’ve been tentative friends, and that’s pushing it. Whether Sam thinks it’s harsh or not, she accepts my decision. Even if she thinks I’m making the wrong choice, as long as I’m not harming myself or others, she supports me in an unconditional way.

“You’ll be at school on Monday, correct?”

I had been questioning if I should go or not, but at this moment, I decide I will. So I roll my eyes, but nod my head anyway.

After checking her phone, she says, “We’ve got five minutes. Anything else you’d like to talk about or get out so I can note it for our next session?”

I chew on my lip a little bit.

“I think I’m pansexual," I blurt out.

She doesn’t even flinch at my erratic behavior. A smile spreads across her face. “Well, thank you for telling me. Why do you think you’re pansexual?” She says it like we’re discussing the weather.

“Um. I met a guy. Well, I already knew him, but I officially met him,” I stutter.

She nods and motions for me to continue. “I want to tell you all about it at next week's session," I say.

She grabs her purse and stuffs her notebook in it. “Alright, well, I’ll see you next Monday," she says with a bright smile. “Next Monday." I beam back at her.

8

Ben

Sam left a few hours ago. A sense of calm has settled over me in her absence. Our sessions always do that for me; it’s like closing out all of the tabs on your phone and having a clean, empty slate to move forward with. I’m taking hits from my bowl while listening to “FEEL NOTHING” by The Plot in You. Smoke swirls in front of me and it’s dim in my room since the lamp on my nightstand is the only light on.

There’s one thought that keeps taking my mind out of this calm, though. Damon. The conversation in the car keeps playing through my head. Matter of fact, if I think back to before we left his house when he woke up, he didn’t touch me or kiss me. He was closed off, wearing a mask of carelessness. Both of the times we’ve hooked up, he’s ended up acting like it was a mistake or it didn’t happen.

There’s no reason to act like that after hooking up with someone unless you didn’t want to in the first place. But, he’s made the first move every time. So he’s pushing me away, but for what reason? In the car, it was obvious he didn’t want me to be with anyone else, but he knew he didn’t have a right to say that. Not without strings, at least.

It still doesn’t explain why he got so hostile. Everything was fine, and in a split second, it was like a switch flipped on and he was a grade-A douchebag. I scoff to myself and rip my bedside drawer open to pull out my journal. It’s a regular black and white composition book— the book barely closes all the way because I've taped and glued things on the pages. Time to write about this weekend.

I’m nearly done when my phone starts ringing. Teddy's big blond curls in his contact photo flash on the screen. He usually doesn't call me, so I’m immediately on edge.

“What’s up, man?" I answer.

“I really need to talk to you, can I come over?" he says, sounding breathless. I hear wind in the background.

Shaking my head, I laugh. “You’re longboarding here right now, aren’t you?”

I can hear the smile in his voice. “Yup. Be there in five.”

My brows knit together in confusion after he hangs up. This is really out of the ordinary—Teddy is one of my best friends, but he’s much closer to Liam, like I am with Ant. Usually, he goes to Liam about things first.

I head out front and sit on my porch, awaiting him. Before long, I see him speeding around the corner into my driveway, curls flying in the wind. He stops in front of me, kicking his longboard up into his hand and sets it on the porch. I’ve always wished I could skate like him and Liam; they’ve even tried to teach me, but I go so slow, it makes more sense for me to walk. He drops his backpack to the ground and pulling a joint out of it, and immediately lights it up. My eyes are wide when he finally looks at me.

“I need to be stoned for this conversation,” he pants, one hand braced on his side. It’s about a thirty-minute ride here, and I know he’s feeling it.

I hold my hands up. “No worries, man. What’s going on?" I say with a nervous laugh.

He starts pacing back and forth, looking like he’s having a debate with himself in his mind, shaking his head every now and then. I’m about to interrupt when he spins around and faces me.

“I’m gay,” he blurts out, and my mouth falls open. Okay, was not expecting that. I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to figure out the right thing to say, but what the hell do I know? He’s looking at me expectantly.

“Congratulations?” I try. He shakes his head at me in exasperation.

“Is it really that surprising? Have you ever seen me hook up with a girl?” he says, the joint pressed between his fingers as he points at himself, frustrated. He’s right, but I never thought much of it. Contrary to popular belief, it’s not required to have sex in high school. So I tell him as much. He shakes his head, raking his hand through his hair.

His eyes are bloodshot and he looks like he hasn’t slept in a while. He’s pacing around like a madman. I start feeling seriously worried about him, so I grab his hand and pull him down to sit next to me. We sit in silence, not looking at each other, obviously at a loss for words. He hits his joint and looks up at the moon.

After a few minutes, he speaks so low I can barely hear him. “I’m in love with Liam. Always have been.”

My eyebrows practically fly off my face, and dread washes through me. Oh, fuck. This is not good. Oh, Teddy.

He scoffs, and the sound cuts through me. “Yeah, I know. It’s hopeless. He’s straight and I’ll always be his best friend, nothing more. His third wheel. His wingman. And eventually, he’ll fall in love.”

He still won't look at me, but I drill my eyes into his profile, trying to see into him, his soul. His glassy eyes reflect in the moonlight and a single tear slides down his soft cheek. My heart plummets into my stomach as his pain washes through me. I pull his head to my chest and stroke his hair as he sobs into my shirt. I shush him and tell him it’ll be okay. He needs to let it all out; he’s probably never even said those words out loud.

Eventually, his erratic breathing turns steady and even. He lifts his head and wipes at his face. He tries for a nonchalant laugh, but it comes out shaky. “Sorry for dumping this on you, Ben.”

“You’re not dumping anything on me, Teddy. I’m so glad you told me. I don’t really know how to help, but I’ll always be here now and in the future.” I pause, then add, “I think you should try to date a guy, or talk to a guy other than him.”

His face morphs into shock. “Why would I do that?” he squeaks.

“I think it’ll help you move on from him, or maybe it’ll help you learn more about your sexuality.”

“You’re right, I can’t keep pining after him forever,” he mutters somberly.

We stand up and head into the house. I figure he’s going to crash here tonight so we lay down and I turn on the TV. My playlist is still playing in the background. After a while, he nudges my shoulder. “So," he says absentmindedly, “what’s going on with you and Damon? Y’all looked pretty cozy the other night.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“First of all, I was on ecstasy, you know that,” I say, rolling my eyes at him. “But honestly, I have no idea what’s going on with him. He’s so moody.”

He laughs. “Sounds like Liam.”

Since I don’t really know what to say about Damon or Liam, I close my eyes and sink into my favorite place. My dreams.

It’s Saturday and I decided not to go out. I ended up hanging out with everyone yesterday; we got drunk at a get-together at Ant’s cousins house. I figured I should keep it chill this weekend, so I actually end up at school on Monday.

These four walls are so comforting to me. I love my room, it’s like my own escape from everything. I always have privacy in here and it feels like me. All of my posters stare back at me; all the famous musicians I’d love to know are right here on these walls.

My dad never stifled my self-expression, he never censored what music I listened to or what movies I watched. When I was thirteen, I asked him for a nose piercing. A couple weeks later, he and I went together and bonded while I got pierced and he got tattooed. Immediately after it was pierced, I told him I wanted the other side done too and he agreed, but said I had to wait until I was fifteen. He held up his end on that offer, too. He even took me to my first concert.

It hurts to remember the good times. He won’t get his life together. I don’t know where he’s been these past few days and I don’t know when I'll see him again. He hasn’t left me any money, and I’m not sure when the last time he went grocery shopping was. I let out a deep sigh. I just want him to be happy again. I need him to care about things again.

Whenever he comes home, I’ll tell him about my sexuality. He probably won’t care either way, but it still makes me a little nervous. I’ve heard him throw around the fag word in the past, out of anger. Hopefully, I don’t make him hurt worse than he already does.

There’s not any rush for me to tell him, I guess. It’s not like I’m seeing anyone. But there is a certain dark-haired, brown-eyed, asshole of a man I still want. He had the audacity to text me last night, asking where I was. I didn’t even reply, because what does it matter to him?

I take a hit from my bowl and let the weed relax my racing mind. I don’t need him, I want him. I repeat those words in my head as I fall asleep.

I’m jolted awake by banging on the front door. I grab my phone to check the time; it’s only past midnight, and there's five missed calls from Damon. I head to the front door, not even bothering to put pants on because I’m sure it's him. But I’m still surprised when I open it and see him standing on my porch, one muscular arm propped on my doorframe.

“Expecting someone?" he asks, motioning at my half-naked state.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I cock an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing here?”

He looks at me like a lost, slightly drunk puppy. Which doesn’t make any sense.

“I missed you," he whispers. He steps in closer to me, and I back away from him. He lets himself in my house and closes the door. I have an out-of-body experience for a moment because holy shit. Damon is in my house.

“Aren’t you going to show me your room?" He looks past me to my open bedroom door. I’m frozen, still gaping at him. He walks by me and enters my room. I hear him plop down on my bed.

Snapping myself out of it, I walk in and close the door. I see his big form sitting there through the darkness.

“Come here, pretty boy," he beckons me forward. Even though I want to hate this guy, heat blooms in my cheeks at his words. When I don’t move, he gets up slightly and reaches for me, pulling me into his lap. He wraps my legs around him and holds me so tightly it’s a little hard to breathe. He’s definitely been drinking; I can smell it all over him. I bet he was at that party again.

His hands come down to my ass and he starts moving my hips back and forth. My dick lengthens pretty much immediately. It’s rubbing against his jeans, and it sends a thrill through my body.

“Did you fuck anyone like you wanted to?” he asks, snapping me out of the moment.

“Why does it matter? You said it yourself. I can fuck whoever I want," I say, halting my movements.

He leans in and buries his face into my neck. “Changed my mind. I don’t want you to be with anyone else, baby. I want you all to myself,” he murmurs softly. Wait. Did he really just call me baby? I’m equally surprised and turned-on by the endearment.

“I didn’t hook up with anyone else,” I hedge. “Not that it matters.”

“It does matter,” he cuts in. “It matters so fucking much to me. I’m a selfish bastard.” He sounds almost regretful.

His closeness and sweet nothings whispered into the darkness of my room make my head spin with want, so I give in. I start moving my hips over his jean-covered dick, grinding on him. It’s a little strange at first because I’ve never moved my hips like this on someone, but it’s quickly replaced with heat. It feels so damn good.

He grabs my face between his big rough hands and smashes our lips together, shoving his tongue into my mouth and swiping it over everything he can reach. It’s the most invasive kiss I’ve ever had. I leave my mouth wide open as he licks into me, and little moans leave my throat.

“I love the way you taste, baby," he says against my lips.

“Take off your clothes," I whisper. “Want to feel your skin.” The darkness is making me brave. I crawl off of him onto the bed, pulling my own briefs off as I go, watching as he strips. I can’t see him in detail, but in the darkness with moonlight creeping through my blinds, he looks like a god, and I want to sink to my knees and be his loyal servant.

He crawls onto my small bed on all fours toward me, pushing me down with one hand, and settles between my legs. Our cocks brush, sending a jolt through my body, and I wrap my legs around him pulling him closer. I want our bodies to touch in every spot they can. I crave the contact, and he gives it to me.

Lowering himself down to my chest, he licks from my collarbone, up my neck, and over my jaw, to my cheek. I’m rutting up into him, trying to get more friction on my dick.

“You’re so beautifully needy for me," he says, his deep voice washing over me. And he's right. In this moment, with his heavy body pressed against mine, I feel like I would do anything for him. He dips back down to my neck and sucks on it so hard, causing me to writhe and moan. It’ll leave a mark, and I’m okay with it. I wish he’d cover me in them.

He reaches his hand between us and wraps it around my dick. I buck into his hand moaning and panting, eyes squeezed shut. He starts pumping me up and down slowly, watching me squirm. It’s almost painful how slow he’s going. I need more…

“More, please," I whine and bite back the embarrassment at how desperate I sound, even to my own ears.

He saddles his dick up next to mine and wraps his hand around both of us. I gasp loudly when he starts fucking his dick against mine. There’s so much precum leaking between the two of us, his calloused hand glides up and down smoothly.

His eyes are locked on the obscene image our dicks make. “Look at how fucking good we fit together," he groans and starts pumping faster, his biceps straining. “Come for me, baby," he grits out, fist flying up and down, and I arch off of the bed, head thrown back as I climax. My orgasm rips through me, sending shocks down my legs. Damon stiffens above me as he comes. We both sprayed all over his hand.

I’m still panting when he hovers over me. “Open your pretty mouth for me," he commands, and it immediately drops open. I watch in awe as he sucks our release off of his fingers. Then he brings his face directly above mine. I feel his shadowed eyes burning into mine as he grabs my chin between his wet fingers, holding it open. He lets our come and his spit fall into my mouth and I swallow it without a second thought.

“Fuck. You were made for me," he groans. I want more, so I arch up, trying to reach his mouth, and he gives me what I want. I pull him down and he drops next to me on his side, feeding me his tongue. He’s rubbing his hand all over my body. I still want more; I want everything he’ll give me, and it's terrifying.

9

Ben

Damon’s wrapped around me and my face is pressed against his neck as I open my eyes. Everything is so surreal. My senior year is going to begin tomorrow, and I’m supposed to be thinking about college and careers, but none of that is on my mind. I never think so far ahead. All I can do is try to make it through today.

If I’m being honest with myself, I can’t picture myself a couple years down the line in college or whatever, because I never thought I’d make it that far. This is why I drink and smoke and get fucked and party. This is why I skip school. None of it actually matters. I want to enjoy my time while I’m still here.

But right here, wrapped up in Damon, I don’t want this to end. If I could stay right here forever, I would. Usually I feel numb, just floating through life. From one party to another. One high to another. One good time to another. None of it actually matters. But, right now, I feel truly high. I never understood what people meant when they say they’re high on life until this very moment. Just this alone could sustain me. Him. I’m so fucked.

“Baby,” he says in the raspiest voice. He tugs on me as if I could be any closer than I already am. I don’t want to say anything to ruin this moment so I kiss his neck.

“What do you want to do today?” he asks. And now I’m confused because I didn’t anticipate him wanting to stay. He’s always doing stuff, going places. It niggles at me that I don’t actually know what it is he does all the time. I don’t know much about him at all.

“Have you watched Game of Thrones before?" I murmur.

He groans, “Nope, but let’s watch it.”

Excitement races through me, and I prop my head up. “Oh my God! You’re going to love it! I’ll watch it again with you.”

He reaches for my face pulling it to his and starts kissing me so thoroughly that I don’t even mind his morning breath. Our tongues tangle together like a glove. I break the kiss, only to turn on the TV.

We spend the rest of the day like this, alternating between watching the best show ever and feeling each other up. Damon even orders us food at one point, which is nice because I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I had enough money to get a couple burgers from McDonalds.

I still don’t know what his deal is. He said a lot of sweet shit last night, but he was also drunk off his ass. My mind is spinning at the fact that he’s even attracted to me. That he’s even here spending time with me, watching this TV show. I’m pretty sure he has more entertaining stuff he could be doing, but he’s here. With me.

I sit up and open my drawer, hoping he doesn’t notice my journal. I pull out my weed jar and load some into my grinder so I can roll a joint.

I notice it’s starting to get dark out, so I ask, “Are you staying the night again? You know I’ve got to be at school in the morning, right?”

Tearing his attention away from the show, he says, “Shit. I forgot about that. What time do you have to be there? I can drop you off.”

Excitement bubbles up in my chest at the prospect of pulling up to school with him, but I try to play it cool. “It’ll be really early in the morning, so you don’t really have to.”

“It’s not a problem. I landed a job at Subway, and I start tomorrow morning," he says wryly. I try to contain my laughter at the idea of him doing something so normal, like making sandwiches. I must not do a good job because he reaches over and shoves me.

“Too good for Subway, Benjamin?" he teases.

I stop laughing long enough to say, “No. No problem at all. Italian herbs and cheese bread is my jam.” And then I burst out laughing again.

“Ha fucking ha,” he jokes. “I need to have a real job, so my dad doesn’t question where all of my money is coming from.”

That’s actually a pretty good point. I never even considered that. “Do you plan on going to college eventually?”

His expression turns serious. “Eh, I don’t know. Probably not.” He rubs his chin, deep in thought. “Too much going on right now.”

I’m curious, but don’t push any further. I’ve noticed he doesn’t like to talk about personal stuff very much and I don’t want to ruin the mood we have going right now. It’s best to let the good times roll and save the heavy stuff for another time. Or never—preferably.

I finish rolling the joint as he sits up and leans his back against the wall. “Come here," he says.

I bring the joint and the lighter and climb on his lap. I feel a little nervous for some reason, so I avoid his gaze and put the joint to my lips, lighting it with practiced efficiency. I take a deep drag, letting the warm smoke fill my lungs. A heaviness spreads through my body, reaching every limb. Finally, I lift my eyes to meet Damon’s. He’s looking at me with one pierced brow arched curiously, like he’s trying to figure something out.

I offer the joint to him and watch him take a deep hit. His eyes close when he does, and I notice how long his lashes are as they rest on his high cheekbones. He takes another hit, holding it in this time and leans forward. He seals his lips against mine and blows the smoke into my mouth as I inhale.

It feels so intimate to share breath like this. I’ve done it with girls in the past, but this right here, just feels hot. This feels like more. My eyes are still closed when he unseals his lips from mine.

“Have you always liked dudes?” he asks. His question catches me off guard and my eyes snap open.

“Um… I don’t think so. I’ve never done anything with another guy. I think I’ve always looked at them a little bit differently, though.” His brows lift incredulously.

“Did you ever look at me like that? Back when we were in school together?”

Heat rises in my cheeks and my gaze falls to my hands. I don’t want him to think I’ve been harboring some secret crush on him, but I answer honestly anyway. “I kind of always wanted to know you. I couldn’t help but find you interesting, however I figured you wouldn’t want anything to do with some stoner kid like me,” I say with a shrug.

He scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean? There’s nothing wrong with you.” He puts the joint out in the ashtray on my windowsill and grabs my throat, forcing me to look at him. His thumb strokes by my ear, and I wonder if he can feel my heartbeat racing. “I always thought you were sexy with your skinny jeans and band t-shirts. I definitely noticed you, but I try not to fuck around with straight guys,” he says, matter of factly.

He sounds so nonchalant about it, but I’m freaking out on the inside. He noticed me back then. His large hand is still wrapped around my throat as he draws me in to seal his lips with mine. He kisses me aggressively, like he’s claiming my mouth. My mind goes blank and I melt into him. His wide chest feels so hard against mine. I’m realizing I like the feeling a lot.

“Did you think I was sexy? Did you sneak looks at me in the gym locker room?" he whispers against my mouth, voice low and deep. I whimper and try to kiss him again, licking at his lips, but he breaks the kiss. “Did you?” he growls.

I nod my head against him, because I definitely did do that. I always tried not to look at guys in the locker room; it’s just an unspoken rule, but I’ve always been drawn to him. He groans and thrusts his hips up against me. Grabbing my cheeks with both hands, caging my head in between them, he forces me to look at him again. “You shouldn’t hide from me. You have nothing to be ashamed of. It’s so fucking hot that you did that.”

His head is tilted back against the wall, eyes heavy with lust. My dick is so hard I feel like I’m going to burst. He leans forward and sucks a bruise on my neck. Then he sucks another in a different spot. “Everyone will know you’re taken now. No one will touch you,” he says against my skin. “When they see you get out of my car tomorrow morning, they’ll know you’re mine, pretty boy.”

I keep hearing those words in my head.

You’re mine.

You’re mine.

You’re mine.

My alarm blares in my ears and I sit up abruptly, rubbing at my eyes. I look over and see Damon is already awake, scrolling through his phone. I groan and fall back to my pillow, pulling the covers over my head.

“I don’t think so,” Damon chastises. “Get up, you’ve got to be at school in forty-five minutes.”

Why is he even awake right now? Why is anyone awake right now? Ugh. It’s so warm and cozy right here under my worn blanket, I just want to stay here—

The blanket is ripped off of me, and I shoot a withering glare at Damon. He starts laughing at me. “You are definitely grumpy when you’re tired. Antonio was right.”

“Who isn’t grumpy in the morning? And since when do you and Antonio discuss about me?”

“I’ve been up for an hour now, and it doesn’t matter. If you get ready now, we can grab some breakfast on the way.”

The mention of food has me perking up immediately. I rise from my futon and stumble to the bathroom, bumping into my doorframe on the way. I stick my toothbrush into my mouth and look up at the mirror. My mouth drops open as my eyes zero in on my neck. I count five hickeys in varying sizes. Fuck my life. I thought he only did like two. The guys are definitely going to give me shit today.

I finish up and head back into the room to get dressed. I don’t bother brushing my hair, so it doesn’t turn into a big frizzy mess on my head. Damon’s already dressed, minus the shirt. I quirk a brow at him. “Not that I’m complaining, but are you going shirtless?” I laugh.

“Got some fresh shirts in the car. Aren’t you gonna put your rings on?”

My brain short circuits for a second. I didn’t realize he liked my rings so much. I wear a few chunky rings I always thought were badass looking—especially the one shaped like a dragon’s claw.

I nod and slip them onto my fingers. Grabbing my cheap gas station bowl off my nightstand, I take a few hits and offer it to him. He finishes it off and stands up, grabbing his keys.

We make it out to the car, and I notice my dad’s truck still isn’t in the driveway. Shaking my head, I adjust myself in the seat and slip my feet out of my beat-up Vans to put them up on the dashboard.

I look over and catch Damon staring at me with his brows lifted. “Oh shit. My bad, it’s a habit,” I say, and drop them down to the floor.

“Nah. I don’t mind,” he says with a smirk. He starts playing “The Worst in Me” by Bad Omens on the radio. Damn. He has good taste in music.

By the time we pull up to my school, I can feel the butterflies of anxiety in my gut. I’ve been coming to this prison for the past few years, and I still feel uncomfortable. The blood drains from my face as I stare at the imposing building. Damon reaches over and pulls my lip from my teeth; I didn’t even notice I was chewing on it.

“What’s the matter?” he asks while grasping my chin.

I start fidgeting with my hands; I don’t want him to think I’m pathetic or something. “I just get nervous around so many people.” I shrug.

He takes my mouth in a bruising kiss, making my cheeks heat, and forces me to look at him again. “None of these people fucking matter, Ben. You’ll leave this place soon and never look back,” he says reassuringly.

“I know,” I groan. He drags his thumb over the marks on my neck, looking at them with a heated gaze. I cringe on the inside, thinking about how they’ll draw extra attention. But I like knowing they’re there. That he put them there.

He withdraws, and the cold air from the car’s AC rushes around me. “I won't be able to pick you up, I’ll still be at work,” he says. I nod and step out of the car. Once again, I’m left wondering what we’re doing with each other. We’re not technically dating, but his words from last night still ring through my head. You’re mine.

I enter the giant atrium at the front of the school. There are students gathered in small groups all around me. The ceiling is a huge dome above us, and two concrete staircases lead to the upper level. I head to the main office to get my schedule, since I never came to orientation.

I don’t know the receptionist's name, even though I’ve been coming to this school for the past three years. It feels like a blur, and I rarely ever showed up anyway.

She narrows her eyes at my neck before shaking her head and typing my name on the computer. Fuck. I want to hide in a box and never come back out again. She makes a sound and looks at me again, “Have a seat. You’ll need to see the counselor.”

As I sit on the hard plastic chair, I start to worry. This can’t be good. I don’t have any weed on me, so at least I know it’s not about that. It’s most likely about my truancy. They’re probably going to expel me. Shit. My dad will lose it.

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear my name called out. A decent-looking guy in a plaid button-up shirt smiles at me from the doorway. As I make my way inside the office, I notice a desk and a bunch of inspirational posters on the wall like: “Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss it, you’ll land in the stars.” I shake my head and take a seat in front of his messy desk.

He steeples his fingers together and looks at me curiously. “I’m Mr. Horton.” He reaches out to shake my hand.

I clear my throat. “What’s going on?”

“Well.” He pauses. “There are 180 days in a school year. Your freshman year, you were marked present about 150 times. Your sophomore year—130 times. And your junior year—90 times.” He has a soft expression as he looks at me.

“You are not on track to graduate. Surprisingly, you’ve managed to pass most of your classes, but you’re missing about twelve credits. You’ll have to go to an alternative school to make up your credits in time for graduation.”

My eyes widen in shock. I knew I missed a lot of days, but hearing the exact numbers has my mind spinning. I feel a sinking weight in my chest. “There’s no way I’ll finish twelve credits in one school year,” I blurt out.

“It’s all online, so it moves quicker than a traditional classroom setting. You still have to attend the school every day, though.” He pauses. “Is everything okay at home?”

I scoff. “Everything’s fine.”

He looks at me disbelievingly, and sighs. “Alright, well, you’re free to leave for the rest of the day. We’ve sent the paperwork to the school already. It’s called New Horizons. I’ll give your parents a call and let them know about the change of plans.”

I nod and head out of his office quickly. Walking past the stairs into the courtyard, my eyes jump to the picnic table me and the boys usually sit at. I head over, taking in the scenery since I probably won’t ever see it again. Numerous tables litter the area, and there're tall palm trees spread throughout the concrete. It’s early in the morning, but the sun is already beating down, and it feels so comforting after sitting in the ice-cold front office.

I plop down next to Ant and run my fingers through my hair, pulling at it. “Looks like I’m going to New Horizons this year,” I deadpan.

Antonio pats me on the back. “Probably for the best, man.” He laughs.

Liam chimes in, “Shit, I’d rather go there. Be careful though, they search your bags every morning. And there’s metal detectors.”

“Good to know.” I huff out a laugh.

Teddy is munching on some chips, keeping quiet. Liam snatches the bag from him and empties them into his mouth. We burst out laughing while Teddy shoots him his best menacing glare.

It kind of sucks how I won’t be able to see them at school now since it’s our last year together. “Okay, well, I’m going to catch a bus back home. See y’all this weekend probably.” I rise from the bench and head out. Pulling out my phone, I check out the barrage of notifications from the group chat asking where I’m at and if I’m really going to skip the first day, but other than that, there’s nothing. I find myself wanting to tell Damon what happened, but I’m not sure if we’re on that level yet. I roll my eyes and pocket my phone. At least I have therapy today.

10

Damon

I never want to eat Subway again. The girl who was training me mentioned that if the cheese starts getting old, I should serve it anyway. I gag to myself as I enter my car. All I really did today was learn about prepping the sub toppings and cleaning the store.

Overall, it’s a pretty simple job. Something to get my dad off my ass at the very least. I reach into my glove compartment and grab a bag of coke and take a couple bumps off my car key before sticking it in the ignition.

It’s not lost on me that I’m doing coke during the day, and I’m not even drinking or in a partying mood. But I feel stressed out and overwhelmed. Overwhelmed because I’m working a dead-end job at fucking Subway when I should be in college. Stressed out because I have no plans to attend college in the foreseeable future.

I know all about the smart decisions I should be making, but I choose to do otherwise. Simply because I fucking hate the idea of putting in the effort. School never came easy to me, and I got a lot of free passes in high school because I played basketball. There’s no free passes in real life.

The people you actually love and care about die and you still have to go on like nothing fucking happened. Go to school. Get a job. Buy a house. Start a family. People cut you slack for a little while, but it quickly turns admonishing. You can’t sit around and do nothing forever. She wouldn’t want that for you.

I shake myself to rid of these thoughts and pull up to Jasper’s place. He still lives at his parents’ house. I knock on the door and greet his mom with a charming smile. “He’s upstairs,” she says, lifting her eyebrows at my Subway get-up.

She doesn’t say anything though, and I appreciate it since I’m not in the mood for small talk right now. Heading past her, I make my way to Jasper’s room and barge in without knocking. He startles and drops his Xbox controller, “What the fuck man. Why don’t you ever knock?”

“Why are you still surprised?” I quip.

He yanks his headset off and motions to my outfit. “Don’t ask," I say on an exhale, relaxing into his desk chair.

“Where’ve you been the past few days, man? Haven’t seen you in a while,” he says, raking his gaze over me.

“Ben’s house.”

A smirk lights up his face. “Oh, so you’ve been getting some then? I don’t blame you. I’d tap that too.”

My face twists like I ate something sour. “Keep your hands to yourself, Jazz,” I snarl before I can catch myself.

His eyebrows jump and his face grows more serious. “Is he your boyfriend, then?”

“Ye—No.” I catch myself from committing a grave mistake. I don’t really have a good reason for why I don’t want him or anyone else to touch Ben, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t have to explain myself.

I think back to the marks I left all over his neck, and grin to myself. I’d have kept marking his skin if I had time. I would’ve left a full display of purple and green bruises like a collar around his tan neck. I feel myself growing hard in my pants just thinking about it.

Jazz’s chuckling brings me back to reality. “Whatever you say, dude. Anyway, how’s the Subway gig?”

“Bullshit. But I need to keep at it,” I say, suddenly feeling very annoyed at the situation.

“Did you move the QP already?” he asks.

I nod.

Getting fronted a quarter pound from a seedy guy wasn’t my best moment, but it seems I’m having a lot of those lately. I could get arrested or someone could rob me and take it all, then I’d owe him all of that money. That’s if he’d even gives me a chance to pay it off.

If he came for me, it’s not like I’d have a problem fighting, but I can tell he plays dirty. Can’t do shit when you’re being jumped. Luckily, I sold it already, so no worries. I’ll just get less next time I re-up.

My phone chimes with a text.

Ben: Think we can find a party to go to tonight? Had a shit day.

I’m not really sure if that’s a good idea, but he’ll probably end up at a party whether I come or not. And for some reason, that bugs the shit out of me. Might as well go with him. “Jazz, let’s get into something tonight,” I say with a smirk.

A mischievous smile spreads across his face. “Fuck yeah, Danny is having a little party at his place.”

Danny is some thirty-year-old loser who hangs around teenagers to make himself feel cooler or some shit. Fine by me; liquor is liquor, and a party is a party.

“Alright, I’m bringing Ben. I’ll pick him up and meet you there.” He shakes his head with a shit-eating grin.

Let’s hope I don’t fuck this up too badly tonight.

Well, Jazz canceled on me last minute, as usual, and Ben seems different, like something changed within the space of ten hours we’ve been apart. I glance at him in my passenger seat again, checking him over like he has an injury or something. I’ve got Lamb of God’s song “Descending” blasting in the car right now, and he’s chugging a tallboy of bud light.

He’s wearing an unbuttoned black long sleeve and a thick platinum chain hangs from his neck as he head bangs to the heavy music. Damn, he’s so perfect. He’s wearing those skull rings that make me want his hand wrapped around my dick. I’d drag his hand over here right now and have him jack me off, but something’s not right.

He’s avoiding my gaze, and acting casual like we didn’t spend the last couple days getting each other off in his bed. That’s fine. We can do that. Casual. We’ll see if that’s what he’s really after by the end of the night.

We park in front of the tiny house nestled in one of the many neighborhoods surrounding Clematis Street—our downtown area filled with bars and heroin addicts. His place has bushes and trees growing wildly around it and there’s broken glass throughout the yard. Typical party house.

Ben downs a second tall boy, and I look at him pointedly. “Maybe you should pace yourself.”

“Nah. I’ll be good, don’t worry about me,” he replies with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and hops out of the car. My brows draw together. What the fuck was that cryptic shit?

I brush it off and walk in after him. He looks around and takes in the house; I don’t think he’s ever been here before. Weed and stale cigarette smoke thickens the air around us. His eyes are stuck on the beer caps Danny glued to the ceiling above us. Every square inch of his ceiling is covered in different-colored beer caps.

I hear, “Yo! Ben, you're here!” and then Teddy's bouncing toward us. Didn’t expect him to be here, I guess our crowds mix together a bit. Ben brings him in for a hug.

“Where’s the liquor? I need a drink,” he declares. I tell him to follow me, and together, we head toward the kitchen. There’s maybe fifty people here and only one shitty couch and a couple patio chairs. Everyone’s mainly gathered around the plastic folding table Danny put in the dining room area for beer pong.

We squeeze our way through the crowd into the adjoining kitchen where there’s an assortment of liquor bottles. Ben goes straight for the vodka and pours an entire solo cup full. Okay, so he’s definitely trying to get fucked up tonight. I pour myself a simple rum and coke and double-take when he starts chugging the vodka straight.

His unbuttoned shirt shows off his toned chest and V leading into his black jeans. My gaze narrows in on the wide column of his throat as he drinks. The bruises I left there have me groaning and adjusting my dick.

I can already tell he’s drunk because his eyes are glazed over and his smile is bigger than I’ve ever seen it. Teddy laughs along with him and tells him something I can’t hear over the music, and saunters off.

I take another drink and watch him over the rim of the plastic cup. He beckons me toward him, so I go. I’m feeling completely out of my comfort zone right now. He’s calling all the shots and I’m not used to it— at all. But I find myself wanting to appease him.

So, I head over to where he’s leaning against the counter and position myself between his spread legs. His eyes are full of heat as he puts his hand on my shoulder and whispers into my ear, “You look really fucking hot. I don’t know what we are, but I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands to myself tonight.” His voice is raspy and filled with lust. “So, if you don’t want people to know we’re hooking up or whatever, let me know now,” he finishes.

My hand darts up to grab a fistful of his hair and yank his head back from my ear. Fear flits across his eyes, but it's quickly replaced with wild lust.

“Do you see the way I marked your neck? Every single person at this party already knows you belong to me. And if they don’t, they will now,” I growl. His eyes widen for a split second before I use my grip in his hair to slam our mouths together. He groans against my lips—mouth already wide open for me. I fuck my tongue violently into it, knowing how crazy it drives him.

I grind my erection into his. “See how hard you make me from just a kiss,” I hiss into his mouth. For some reason, I’m starting to feel anger pumping through my veins. Lust is the same high as anger for me and they’re often one and the same.

I break the kiss and grab his arm, hard enough to leave a bruise. He reaches back to the counter to grab his drink before I drag him away from the kitchen. Some people are smirking at us, but I barely notice them. All my brain can process right now is Ben.

I pull him into the bathroom and lock the door. Bracing my hand on his chest, I shove him against it and drag my thumb across his nipple. In the same movement, I pull it between my fingers and he hisses out a breath. “Fuck, Damon,” he breathes, eyes squeezed shut.

“You wanna be mine, baby?” I growl, “This is what I’m like.” His blue eyes peer up at me.

He swallows and I can see the hesitation in his gaze. He may think this is what he wants, but I know it’s not. Does that phase me? Not at all. So, I drop my hands to the button on his jeans and shove them down just enough to free his cock. It’s rock-hard and leaking. My mouth waters as I drop down to my knees and swallow his dick in one swift motion.

He gasps out and immediately bucks into my throat. I grip his hips, and start working his dick in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it. He’s a panting mess in no time. “Oh my God. Damon, I’m gonna come.” He barely finishes saying it before he shoots into my mouth, and I swallow it down.

I stand up abruptly and grab his face in a bruising grip. He already knows what I want, because he’s fucking perfect. He parts his pretty lips wide open and looks at me, still dazed from his orgasm and the alcohol in his veins as I spit in his mouth. He swallows and moans like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

I’m still hard as a rock, but I back up from him and grab my drink; I down the rest of it in one gulp. He leans against the door watching me pull my shirt off because my skin is throbbing with adrenaline, and his eyes dart to my pierced nipples. I smirk.

He clears his throat and stands up a bit straighter. “So what are we doing then?” he asks.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a pack of cigarettes and a bag of coke. “Right now, I’m doing some blow,” I say. Grade A avoidance.

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he settles on, “Wanna share?”

Once again, I’m taken off-guard by his question. I didn’t expect him to be into it. I light a cigarette, trapping the end between my lips, and look at him pointedly. “Have you done it before?” I ask.

“Nope,” he says, looking directly into my eyes. His arms are crossed in front of his chest like a wall. It’s not impenetrable though, I can see the slight tremor in his fist and the jump of his pulse in his neck.

I’m not sure how I feel about being the person to introduce him to this drug. He’ll probably end up doing it anyway, regardless of me. He gets around, parties a lot, and hangs with older people.

Most important thing is, I’m not his fucking keeper, so if he wants it, I’ll give it to him. I don’t want to see his pouty lips turn down if I tell him no.

I hold the cigarette in my mouth, feeling the smoke soaking into the skin on my face, and get to work making two lines on the counter top. Mine is long and thick, his is significantly smaller. He probably shouldn’t do too much for his first time, but my tolerance gets higher and higher everyday.

I roll up the dollar bill and snort my line straight to the head, straighten up and feel the cocaine drip in the back of my throat, a taste I’ve come to adore. I hand the bill to Ben and he does his line and rubs at his nose a bit to ease the burn.

“That’s all I’m going to give you tonight,” I say, breaking the silence.

“Fine by me.” He shrugs. “I don’t expect you to share your stash.”

Furrowing my brows, I say, “It’s not about that. I have plenty. I just think you shouldn’t do so much at first.” He shrugs like he doesn’t believe me, eyes carefully blank.

I take a couple more bumps from the baggie with my car key and start to feel annoyed about this whole situation. “I don’t talk just to talk. I don’t say much at all to anyone. So, if I tell you something, I mean exactly what I say.” I retort acidly.

He holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “Alright man, my bad,” he says. “I’m a little annoyed. I feel like we keep fucking around, and you’re probably just using me when you’re bored. Like it’s some shitty game for you. You don’t let me in at all; I still don’t know anything about you.”

My chest is heaving with the deep breaths I’m taking to keep my cool. I know rationally that he just wants to define our relationship, but right now, with my adrenaline on high and him looking at me like I’m a piece of shit, I snap. Using him? I snort to myself. “There’s no shortage of people for me to fuck, I promise you that much. You and I haven’t even fucked yet and I’ve spent all of my free time with you. So I think we can both agree that’s not the case,” I say through clenched teeth.

The expression on his face guts me. He’s looking at me like he doesn’t know me at all, and he’s right. He has no clue what kind of fucked up I am.

Finally, he shakes his head and stands up straight. My eyes zone in his toned, muscular torso. “You know, I was already having a bad day, and I can tell you’re lying through your fucking teeth. You’re scared shitless of feelings or commitment. I may be shy and nervous, but I’m not a fucking coward. I don’t need this shit.” He leaves the bathroom, slamming the door, before I can even formulate a response.

I’m left staring at the door he was leaning on, wondering how the fuck I just ruined this night so easily. He’s probably right, though. I don’t want to deal with feelings, it’s too complicated. But all I can do is feel when it comes to him. Fuck all this. He claims he doesn’t want me anymore? We’ll see if he really means it.

11

Ben

I’m practically seething as I rush out of the shitty bathroom, my fists clenched at my sides. It took a lot for me to stand up to him like that.

Earlier today, I told my therapist about Damon and I. I told her everything, and she read me so well she picked up on my reservations quickly. So she did a demonstration for me. After pulling a twenty dollar bill from her wallet, she asked, “Do you want this?” I looked at her with uncertainty, trying to figure out where she was going with this, but I played along anyway.

“Sure,” I said with a chuckle, reaching for it and she gave it to me. She pulled out another twenty from her wallet and crumpled it up in her palm. I winced because she was ruining perfectly good money, but then she held the ball out in her palm offering it to me. “Do you want this?”

At this point, I was thoroughly confused, but I said, “Twenty dollars is twenty dollars, right?" and grabbed it from her.

She smiled a sad sort of smile at me. “You’ve been through so much in your life, but all of that trauma doesn’t dictate your worth. You’re still Ben. You’re still worth something. Just like the twenty dollar bill.” Understanding dawns on me, but she continues, “Damon sounds like he has some similar issues to rectify with himself, but you can’t do it for him. Only he can. If you allow someone to be in your life, make sure they are valuing you. You are a wonderful person, and it’s a privilege to be close to you. Don’t ever forget that.”

She hadn’t outright told me to do anything, or make a certain decision, but she gave me food for thought. Sometimes a person like me needs reminding of the simple things I’m sure other people already know. Her words sat heavily on my mind all evening, and it manifested itself as an explosive argument with Damon.

Shaking my head to myself, I scan the crowd in the beer pong room for Teddy. I spot him in a corner pressed up against some guy, saying something in his ear. My eyes bug out of my head as I approach him. I guess he took my advice.

Grabbing his shoulder, I say, “Let’s get out of here, man.” His eyes flick back and forth between me and the dude he’s with. Finally, he releases a dramatic sigh and tells the guy, “Gotta go, can I get your number?” I roll my eyes and scan the room, looking for Damon. I want to know if he left the party or if he’s going to stick around. Not that it matters.

When Teddy grabs my arm to get my attention, I look down at him and he must be able to see my emotion written plainly on my face because he frowns and starts dragging me toward the front of the house. When we reach the living room, I glance around and come to an abrupt halt.

Damon is sitting on the couch, still shirtless and there’s a guy with short blond hair on his lap. Blond guy is sucking on his neck and Damon’s head is rolled back, eyes closed. A sharp pain splits open my chest.

Suddenly, as if he knows I’m here watching him, Damon’s eyes open. He looks at me, his face void of emotion, still pressed back on the couch. He doesn’t look surprised or anything. There’s nothing there. His eyes are like two black holes, staring through me like I’m not even here.

He lifts his hand, the one that was just wrapped around my dick ten minutes ago and tugs the guy’s head up to his mouth and kisses him, licking into his mouth with his tongue. All the while, still looking at me.

A pathetic noise leaves my throat, but I school my features and walk past the couch calmly, leaving it all behind me.

Teddy’s on my heels as I speed walk to the road. My feet pound on the broken sidewalk and my thoughts run a mile a minute.

Teddy grabs my arm, stopping me abruptly to spin me around. “What?” I shout into the still night air. He flinches, and it’s enough to make me force myself to calm down. I sink to the curb and cover my face with my hands. Tears sting my eyes, but I don’t blink them away. Teddy sits down next to me and rubs my back with a firm hand.

The image of Damon with his mouth on that guy is more painful than I ever expected as it replays in my head. “We’re not even together, so it doesn’t fucking matter. I shouldn’t have caught feelings.”

Teddy scoffs from his spot next to me. “Shut up, man. You can’t control feelings, believe me.” He sucks in a breath. “I know it’s painful right now, but that’s all life really is. Pain. With short bursts of happiness. The kind of happiness that slips through your fingers like sand. It’s abundant, but you can’t hold enough of it in your palm because it’s so fleeting.” His voice has a sad lilt to it.

My body starts shaking with laughter. He gasps, “Oh shit, man, I’m sorry. I never know the right thing to say.”

I uncover my face to look at him. He sees my smile and shoves me. “Number one, you’re such a goddamn hippie,” I say with a loud laugh. “And number two, that was depressing as fuck.”

He puts his nose up in the air and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Whatever, you know it’s true,” he says with a smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, man. I get it,” I say. “I, uh… I did coke tonight.”

His brows furrow. “With him?” he asks.

“Yup,” I say solemly. “I asked him for some. It wasn’t that special, I don’t know why people do it so much.”

“Good. You probably shouldn’t do it again. Stick to weed, man. You know my mom’s a coke head and that shit doesn’t end well,” he says with a stoic expression that barely conceals the pain of all the bullshit he goes through at home.

“Don’t worry, man. I won’t,” I say, pouring every ounce of understanding in those words.

We sit in comfortable silence for a while. The kind of silence you can only share with the people closest to you.

Eventually we pick ourselves up and continue the thirty-minute walk to his house. By the time we get there, we’re sticky with sweat and exhausted. We pass out almost immediately on his twin-sized bed.

I ended up missing my first day at my new alternative school. I fully intended to go, but after my therapy session, I had a downward spiral. It happens sometimes. When emotions are at a breaking point within me, I tend to make careless decisions, like drinking as much alcohol as I can and going to a party with my glorified fuck buddy, trying a new drug, and crashing at someone’s house. It’s not the worst lapse in judgement I’ve ever had, though.

Teddy did get up for school and he woke me up too. He said I should probably go, so his mom doesn’t give him any problems. So I dragged myself out of bed, only slightly hungover, but feeling like shit nonetheless. I was still in my clothes from last night so I buttoned up my shirt and hopped on a bus to go home.

Now, I’m in my room, hitting my bong, and staring dazedly at my poster-covered wall. I’ve had time to digest the shit show that was last night, and I’ve decided I’ll be okay. I can move past this, and I’m lucky he showed his true colors so early. That’s what I tell myself, at least.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. Hmm... Dad’s home. It’s about time I talked to him. So I give him a minute to take his boots off and sit down on his bed. He’s always told me not to talk to him when he gets home, because he needs time to sit and relax first.

After a while, I get up and approach his door. I knock and hear him groan as he stomps over and turns the deadbolt. Following him back into the room, I take a seat on his bed, and he lays down.

“Why aren’t you at your new school, son? They left me a voicemail about the alternative school.” He sounds annoyed, and I feel bad about adding more stress to his life. I keep my head down and pick at his blanket to keep my hands busy.

“I had a pretty bad day yesterday, and after Sam left, it got worse,” I mumble. He grunts and squeezes his eyes closed.

“You have a lot of bad days. There’s always going to be bad days, but you still have to handle your responsibilities.” I know he’s saying this because it’s what he’s supposed to say. It’s what he wishes he could do, and it bothers him that I’m the same as him.

“I know.” I sigh. It’s time to talk about my sexuality, but suddenly, I feel at a loss for words. My heart palpitates and my stomach swirls with anticipation. I clear my throat and try, anyway. “I need to tell you something, Dad.”

He opens his eyes and looks at me cautiously, so I go for it. “I’m not straight. I like guys, too. Not just girls. Pretty sure, I like both.” I stumble over the words as they rush from my mouth.

My dad’s eyes look a little glassy and the wrinkles surrounding them are more pronounced than usual. He opens his arms and beckons me to him. I fall into then and lay my head on his chest, and he squeezes me tight. “I love you, son. There’s no one more important to me in this world than you,” he rasps.

I know he does, even though he’s all fucked up. He’s only human, like me.

He continues, “It doesn’t matter to me, who or what you like. I’ll always support you and love you the same. My parents never did that for me, but I’ll always do it for you.”

“I love you, too,” I say into his chest. My dad doesn’t ever allow feelings to seep through his armor like this. This moment is one I’ll never forget.

I know he had it rough growing up. My mom told me the parts of his story she knew. He was adopted by some very well off, deeply religious family, whom I know as Grandma and Grandpa.

They visit us once a year. They don’t hug or kiss or say “I love you.” I can tell it hurts him deeply. Seeing my dad, a grown man turn into a boy seeking their approval has always been painful for me. I hate seeing him weak like that.

I sit up and wipe at my eyes. “I’ll be at school tomorrow and the rest of the week. Don’t worry. I want to graduate this year and leave high school behind, finally.”

He nods his head at me, and I can tell he’s tired so I leave his room, closing the door. He didn’t seem to notice. I wonder to myself if he took some pills or if he’s genuinely exhausted. I never know when it comes to him, whereas, with my mom, I can always tell. It’s been nearly a month since I left her house, but still, I haven’t heard from her even once. Whatever. I don’t intend to talk to her again.

I spend the rest of the day watching Netflix, and at night I find Damon creeping into my thoughts. Lying in this bed that still smells like him is throwing me off. I wish I didn’t have feelings so I could have him here with me. I wish it was that simple. I wonder if he ended up having sex with the blond guy, and that thought is enough to make my stomach churn. He shouldn’t touch anybody other than me. I shake my head because I’m being ridiculous. He doesn’t owe me anything. Pulling out my journal, I decide to write about the past few days. I need to get all this shit out. Eventually, I fall asleep with my journal on my chest.

12

Ben

I wake up to my alarm sounding through my phone and rub my eyes. God, I fucking hate getting up for school, but today is worse than usual because I’m going to a new one. I won’t know anyone there, and I’ll have to learn my way around.

Rolling out of bed, I immediately reach for my bong on the nightstand and take a hit. It’s the best way to start the day, puts my mind at ease. My phone buzzes next to me and I see a text from Ant.

Ant: You better be going to school today!! Let’s chill afterward. I don’t have to work.

Me: Yeah I’m up. Getting ready. See you then.

Ant used to text me in the mornings, back in freshman year to make sure I was up for school, but it didn’t take long for him to give up. This year, it’ll be different though. I have one goal, and it’s to finish these online classes as fast as humanly possible. Maybe with some help from Google—but that’s beside the point.

Once I’m dressed and ready, I head to the city bus stop. I should make it to class right before school starts as long as the bus isn’t late. The closer I get to my stop, the worse I feel. My gut is churning with anxiety and my lip is sore from my incessant chewing. Reaching my stop, I pull the string and get off the bus. The building is right across the busy street, so I run to the median and wait for more cars to pass, and then bolt across again.

I’m only slightly sweaty as I approach the old, dilapidated building. There’s a line of maybe thirty students outside the front door. I guess we’re supposed to wait outside ‘til the bell rings. The students are all pretty quiet, not fully awake yet, and if I’m being honest, none of them look thrilled to be here.

I spot a few ankle monitors on some of them and some face tattoos. At least I don't have to deal with the shitty looks from the pretentious rich kids at my old school. The bell rings and a round man opens the front door. The line moves slowly and when I get close enough, I see they do, in fact, check your backpack. I don’t bring one anyway, so it doesn’t matter to me.

I walk through the metal detector without issue and enter a long hallway with doors on either side. The paint on the cinder block walls is chipped, and it smells like shit in here. I find a teacher at a door and ask where the office is so I can get my schedule.

After getting my schedule, I find my classroom in the main hallway, which I’m beginning to think is the only hallway.

The class has rows of computers lined up. Assuming we sit wherever we want, I take a seat farthest away from everyone, in a corner.

I’ve been the new kid plenty of times in my life, and I always use the same tactic. Don’t talk to anyone and don’t draw any unnecessary attention. The lady at the front office gave me a paper with login instructions for the classroom portal, so I get straight to work. No fucking around.

Some of the other students are talking to each other and I notice others have Facebook pulled up on their screens. I notice some of them have headphones plugged in, so I pull mine out of my pocket and put on some music while I work. There’s a lady here, supposedly supervising us, but I don’t think she’s actually a teacher. She sits at a desk in the front on her phone, clearly ignoring us.

The modules are pretty easy. I skip through them to get to the quiz questions. If I don’t know an answer, then I copy and paste the question to google. It works well and I pass all of the quizzes I take.

This is so much better than regular school. It’s much easier, and I can listen to music too. Hours fly by and before I know it, it’s lunch time. I follow the rest of the students to the lunchroom, which is actually a classroom with a lunch lady at the front. She has stacks of Styrofoam to-go containers. The food is soggy and not warm since it was brought from another school nearby.

I sit down and start eating, happy to have this meal. It might be the only thing I eat today. The other students are talking to each other, but it’s nowhere near as loud as a typical cafeteria. I keep my eyes trained on my plate, so people get the message to not talk to me. A loud voice interrupts my meal, and I look up to see what’s going on.

“What the fuck do you mean there’s no more lunch?" a student yells. He’s tall and looks pissed.

“Dennis, you know you have to get here in time. It’s first come, first serve. You should’ve come straight to lunch instead of whatever else you were doing,” the lunch lady says, obviously annoyed.

“Fuck this broke ass school, man. I’m outta here.” He turns around and slams the door on his way out.

Well, I guess they aren’t required to feed us here. Good to know. No one talks to me the rest of lunch, thankfully. It’s probably because my headphones are in.

After lunch, I go to a different classroom. This supervisor might actually be a teacher because I notice her helping some students with their algebra lessons.

The rest of the day passes by in a blur of computer screens and mouse clicks. By the time the bell rings, my eyes burn slightly.

I follow the stampede of students rushing out the doors. As soon as the sun hits my skin, I feel ten times better. I was starting to get sleepy there toward the end, but now I’m wide awake and ready to go chill with Ant.

I approach the pavilion at the park and see the whole gang’s here. Picking up speed, I jog up to them.

“Let me get a cigarette, man,” I say to Liam.

He reaches in the pocket of his low slung jeans. “Well, hello to you too,” he deadpans.

Rolling my eyes, I snag the cig from him. “It’s been a long day.”

I sit down at the table next to Teddy and drop my head on his shoulder, focusing on my cigarette and the slight buzz it gives my head. Ant’s voice breaks through my zoned-out mind. “What’s up with those hickeys, man?”

Fuck. I didn’t want to talk about him today. “Damon,” I simply say while stubbing my cig out on the bottom of my shoe.

When I meet his gaze, it’s obvious he doesn’t want to let it go. “Look, we were fucking around the past few weeks, but last night he showed his true colors,” I muse. Trying to put my feelings into words without sounding ridiculous is harder than I expected. “You know how I am. I can’t just hook up with someone. Can’t do casual.”

His face softens a bit. “It’s all good, man. There’s more where he came from,” he says with a rare smile, sending me into a fit of laughter. “So, you like them big and muscley.” He lifts an eyebrow, tapping his chin in fake concentration.

“Don’t forget pierced!” Liam chimes in.

“Oh my god! I do not need you guys to play matchmaker for me.” I laugh and shake my head.

Liam puffs on a blunt, twisting one of his dreads in his fingers. He’s already taken his shirt off, so his chest and stomach tattoos are on full display. “I think you do need our help, bro. Who do you even talk to other than us?” he says as he lands a trick on his skateboard.

I notice Teddy is dutifully avoiding looking at him, eyes glued to his phone. “Plenty of people think Ben’s hot, but he just doesn’t talk to anyone," he says without looking up from his phone.

I scoff. I know they mean well, but it’s the sad truth. “I doubt that,” I say with a shrug. “Let’s stop talking about me, though.” I beg.

The conversation shifts to everyone’s plans for the weekend. Apparently, there’s a party at the same place we went to a couple weekends ago when I took ecstasy. Flashes of Damon pressing me to the wall behind the house flit through my mind. A shitty reminder of how fucking alive he made me feel.

I opt out of going because I’d rather not have to see him and there’s a strong possibility he’ll be there to deal. Probably best if I stay home anyway, so I’m more likely to make it to school on Monday. Teddy stands up abruptly. “Alright, I’m gonna head out,” he says.

“To where?” Liam asks him.

“I’m going to Asher’s house.” He shrugs.

Liam grabs his skateboard. “That who you’ve been texting nonstop?”

“Um, yeah.”

“I’m coming with you. Let’s go.” He starts skating away, not waiting up for Teddy. “See y’all tomorrow,” he shouts over his shoulder.

Teddy’s face is filled with something akin to dread as he grabs his longboard and skates to catch up to him.

“What’s up with Liam? He seems like more of a dick than usual,” Ant says. He means it with love because it’s just the truth. Liam always seems like he’d rather be anywhere else. Unless he’s with us, his face is constantly set in a scowl, and he doesn’t take shit from anyone.

It’s not my place to tell Ant anything about Teddy and Liam—and I’m pretty sure that’s got something to do with his attitude, so I shrug. “Maybe you should ask him.”

He shakes his head. “Nah. He won’t tell me shit, anyway. How’s the alternative school, dude?”

I take a minute to reply. “It’s a sad excuse for a school. No teachers and no learning. At least I can get in and keep my head down, actually do my work, and graduate with the rest of y’all. All with minimal effort,” I finish with a smirk.

Ant shoots me a “you lucky bastard” look since he’s in advanced classes and somehow manages to keep a job.

“All that matters is you graduating; doesn’t matter how you get there.”

And in that moment it hits me—like it occasionally does— that Ant is the best person in my life. He’s the only one who’s always played an active role in wanting me to succeed. Aside from my therapist, of course. But she doesn’t count, that’s literally her job. He’s always there when I need him and he doesn’t give me shit for being too needy or too much trouble.

I look down, messing with a loose thread on my shirt. “Don’t worry, man. We’ll walk the stupid stage together.” I say, feeling choked up.

“Don’t get emotional on me, you goddamn sad boy,” he jokes. It’s a joke, but a sad truth nonetheless. I bottle my emotions up and always feel a haze of sadness swirling around me. Even when I’m happy, it’s always there. Waiting.

13

Ben

Every Friday, there’s another party. Another chance to say fuck it all and allow my carelessness to fly. But tonight, I don’t want to see Damon. I’m generally a non-confrontational person, but the sorrow I felt earlier this week has morphed into straight up anger, and I just want to put my fist through his perfect face.

Another thing that’s been pissing me off is the fact that my dad didn’t come home from work today, which means he’ll probably be gone ‘til Monday at best. There’s some ramen and canned vegetables in the kitchen, at least. I’ll probably end up going to Ant’s house later this weekend to hopefully catch a meal. It’s a regular occurrence, so it shouldn’t bother me so much. He started letting go of his responsibilities little by little back when I was thirteen. But, every time he goes, the pain lances deeper in my chest. I know he cares about me, but he doesn’t care enough.

I hate wallowing in the “my daddy doesn’t love me” shit, so I get up and check my nightstand for some weed. Empty. Well, that’s fucking great. I grab my phone and call Teddy. He picks up on the third ring and I hear the wind blowing in his phone speaker. “What’s up, dude?” he pants.

“I need a tab of L. I’m trying to trip tonight.”

“Say no more,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. Teddy loves tripping with people. I mainly smoke weed, but he’s the guy to go to for hallucinogenic shit. He doesn’t sell or anything, but he has all the connections.

Two hours later, there’s a knock at my front door. The moment I see his big eyes, a smile splits my face open. Pulling him into a hug, I speak into his crazy, windblown hair, “Thank fuck for you, man.”

“You ready for strawberry fields?” It’s our thing. Back when we were fifteen, the entire gang and I tried LSD for the first time while listening to “Strawberry Fields Forever” by The Beatles on repeat. We laid in the grass and ran around like happy idiots at the park all night.

“More than ever. I thought you were going to the party tonight.”

“I was,” he says, dragging it out. “But I can’t miss an opportunity to be your spiritual guide tonight,” he finishes with a dramatic bow. He whisks past me into my room and pulls a piece of tin foil out of his back pocket. He opens it up and shows me the two little squares with tiny Grateful Dead bears on them. Crazy how such a small piece of paper is about to have me in another world for the next twelve hours.

Teddy starts going on about making sure my head is free of negative energy and where we’re going to trip. Indoors or out?

We decide on staying in my room with a slight chance of wandering outside during the peak of our trip. I can’t say my head is free of negative energy. It never is, but I assure him, anyway.

I think about the party Ant and Liam are at, and I can’t help the fact that Damon creeps into my head. I shrug it off.

“Let the trip begin,” I say, and he gives me my tab. I place it on my tongue. It doesn’t taste like anything, which is a good sign to confirm it’s real L. I shift it under my tongue and hold it there; it’ll be a while before it kicks in.

I plug my phone into my amp and start playing “I Can’t Quit You Baby” by Led Zeppelin. Their songs are chill enough to trip to and this ones an absolute banger. Teddy starts doing the air guitar, and I sit back and laugh.

After a while, we swallow our tabs, and Teddy whips out a joint from behind his ear. I never even noticed it was there, disguised by all that hair of his. After my first hit, my stomach starts to turn a little bit. This always happens right before the L kicks in. I hear a notification go off through my speaker and check it. An unwelcome jolt rips through my body at the sight of his name.

Damon: Where are you?

I scoff.

Me: It doesn’t matter where I am.

He thinks he can disrespect me like that in front of all those people and ghost me for a week, and then still expect me to give him the time of day? Nope. I see he read the text message almost immediately, and close my phone. I’m trying to have a good night.

Teddy’s unbuttoning his flowy paisley shirt. “Getting hot in here, man,” he says.

Which makes me notice how hot I’m feeling too. I reach up to pull my own black t-shirt off and stop when I notice my hand leaving a trail like it’s moving in slow motion. A smile lights up my face.

“You trippin’?” I ask.

“Yup. You?”

“Mhm.” And we both burst out laughing.

My brain hasn’t completely left the room, though. And in the back of it, there’s worry going on. What if Damon shows up at my house? I won’t be in the right frame of mind to handle that at all.

“Maybe we should head to the park down the street,” I say and my voice sounds foreign to my own ears.

“Hell yeah, man. Let’s go look at the stars.” He jumps up excitedly and leaves his longboard. I’ve seen him skate while tripping before, which blows my mind, but I’m glad he’s gonna walk with me this time.

We step outside and the humid air rushes into my lungs. My legs are wobbly and feel like jelly. Soon enough, it’ll feel like they’re not there at all. By the time we get to the park, which is literally a five-minute walk, we’re both drenched in sweat.

Teddy stands in the middle of the soccer field with his arms spread wide. “This looks like a mighty fine patch of grass if I do say so myself,” he declares with an earnest grin.

“It’ll do the trick,” I reply. The air is starting to zing across my skin, sending little electric pulses through me at every contact. It’s an overwhelmingly euphoric feeling. The body sensations are my favorite part of tripping. Most people care more about the visuals, though.

I notice how the leaves on the trees are looking more purple than green, and the little shadows cast by every blade of grass are stretching and warping around me. Abruptly, I lay down and feel the grass on my naked back. Only it feels like the softest bed of feathers. Teddy lays down next to me, and it sends a wave through the ground beneath me. Laying shoulder to shoulder, we look at the pitch black sky.

The stars appear so close as if I could reach up and grab one. Faint lines connect the stars into hundreds of constellations, and I feel like my body no longer exists. I’m just a soul soaring through the sky.

This is the ultimate feeling. The best therapy money can buy. A quick detachment from reality is sometimes what I need, because I can’t cope with it all.

I wake up in my own bed, thankfully, but I don’t remember much after a certain point last night. I definitely don’t remember coming home. Teddy’s snoring lightly next to me, and my stomach rolls with nausea. A layer of sweat and dirt clings to my skin.

I check my phone and notice dirt underneath my fingernails. It’s nine at night on Saturday; we slept the entire day away. Makes sense. There are some notifications I don’t bother checking, so I leave it alone and drag myself to the bathroom.

When you’re tripping, you don’t really feel pain or fatigue or anything at all. So it always hits you like a train the next day. I take a long shower and brush my teeth twice. I throw on some black sweats and head back to the room.

“Long night,” Teddy croaks, looking smug.

“Remind me not to trip again for the next few months.” We both laugh.

I lower myself to the bed and grimace at the twinge of pain in my back. Teddy packs a bowl he pulled from the backpack he takes everywhere and we pass it back and forth. I French inhale every hit and let my body relax into the bed.

I wonder if Damon showed up last night. I crack an eye open and check my phone. No messages from him. I wish it didn’t feel like a punch in the gut.

Teddy shuffles out of the bed and slips on his extremely worn Nike SB’s. He grabs his longboard, saying something about heading home to get a shower and check on his mom on the way. I can hear the wheels hit the pavement of my driveway as I drift back to sleep.

14

Damon

The air in my apartment is thick with cigarette and weed smoke. Jazz is at the kitchen table, slapping dominoes down with some old heads from the neighborhood. And the cocaine on my coffee table looks green from the LED lights as I lean down to snort it.

Leaning back against the couch, I zone out. All I see is Ben. I went by his house last night and knocked on the door. No one answered and his neighbor wasn’t outside, so I let myself in. He wasn’t there, but he left his phone and there was a longboard on the floor. So, I figured he was with Teddy. I drove around the block, looking around. I pulled into the rec center as a last ditch effort, and what did I see? Ben sprawled out on the grass with Teddy laying on his stomach.

My brain runs through all the possibilities of what that could mean for the hundredth time. Logically, I know there’s nothing romantic or sexual between them. But, it just fucking makes too much sense to completely disregard. Why wouldn’t they hook up? They’re already close friends, and Ben’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. It’s easy to imagine.

I squeeze my eyes shut and urge that mental image away. Maybe I did too much blow.

“You look constipated,” Jazz shouts over the loud Juicy J song playing through my speakers.

“Fuck off.”

“What’s got you so wound up? You’ve been real fucking weird all week,” he says, and this time he actually looks mildly concerned.

I scoff. “I’m the same asshole I was last week.” I lean forward and line up some more blow.

Jaz eyeballs me as I grab the rolled up bill. “You don’t think you’ve done enough for the night?” I snort it and drop the bill.

“Now I’m done.”

He shakes his head, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes bleed disappointment and pity. It’s a mirror image of the way my mother always looked at me. It pisses me off, but I care too much about him to make a big deal out of it. Abruptly, I shoot up from the couch. “Everyone out,” I announce. “Let’s go.”

Everyone shuffles their way out of the house, looking mildly annoyed, but no one does anything about it.

“You crashing here tonight?” I ask Jazz.

“Nah, I’ll head out too. You going somewhere?”

“Yup. Lock up on your way out, alright?” I say while tucking my wallet into the pocket of my sweats. He’s the only person who has a key to my place, and the only person I trust.

I turn my music down right before I pull into Ben’s driveway. There’s no other cars here, and now that I think about it, there’s never any other cars here. He mentioned he lives with his dad, though.

I knock on his door and wait for a sound. Nothing. Fuck. He’s probably at a party or something. Maybe he never came home last night. The thought suddenly makes me feel worried, so I try to turn the doorknob. It opens right up. Stepping into his dark house, I close the door quietly.

There’s dishes piled up in the sink to my right and a bunch of tools in tool bags on the floor in the kitchen. Boxes are stacked up in the living room, like they’re packing to move. I never really take the time to look around, since I usually head straight to Ben’s room. Ignoring it all, I walk into his bedroom and let out a sigh of relief when I see him asleep on his uncomfortable futon. His blanket is pulled all the way up to his neck, and he’s curled up in a ball.

I resist the urge to make myself at home in his bed, only because that’ll probably earn me a punch to the face. So, I step closer and shake his shoulder.

“Ben, wake up.” He shoots up from the bed immediately. His eyes wide open in fear.

I rear back with my hands out. “It’s just me,” I say.

“What the fuck are you doing here? How did you even get in my house?” he says, sounding a lot calmer than I expected. His voice is gravelly from sleep and he wipes at his eyes.

“The door was unlocked.” I shrug.

His brows wrinkle in the center of his forehead. “So you just let yourself in? Who even does that.” And then he looks contemplative for a moment. “Teddy must’ve left it unlocked.”

My face twists up in a sneer; I can’t help it. He checks his phone, squinting his eyes. “It’s two in the morning. You didn’t even think to call or text. Or maybe, I don’t know, ask if I wanted you to come over?”

He has this crazy look on his face, and I really want to kiss it off. “I wanted to talk to you,” I say and sit down next to him. “I’m sorry.”

He scoffs. “For what? You know what, it doesn’t even matter, you should just go. I’m sure there’s somewhere else you’d rather be right now.” He stands up like he’s going to leave, so I grab his hand to stop him. He whirls around and I can see his eyes darken through his angry facade.

“Just give me a chance to explain,” I say. After gaging his reaction, I continue, “I want you, Ben. I regret what happened last weekend, it wasn’t right. I know I have issues, and I can’t control my anger at times. I wasn’t in my right mind. But I can’t stop fucking thinking about you. I’ve never been like this over anyone before.”

It’s all true. When I think back through all of my hookups and relationships, no one has ever made me feel this crazy. Like I’d make out with some random just to spite them. Usually, I couldn’t care less. Not sure it’s a good thing, but I really can’t help myself at this point.

“Do you know how fucking crazy you sound?” Ben says, interrupting my train of thought.

The fact that he’s so spot-on makes me laugh. “Yeah, actually. I do. I’m crazy as fuck and I want you all to myself.” I look him in the eyes, challenging him to deny me when he knows he can’t. He feels the same way I do.

He lets out a deep breath, and shakes his head. I can tell he needs me to be more forceful about it, so he doesn’t feel like he’s giving in so easily. With determination, I pull him down to my lap and make the decision for him. “Tell me you want me, and we can be together. Exclusively.” My face is so close to his, I can smell his body wash and shampoo.

“I don’t really think I can trust you, Damon. You’re all over the place all the time.”

“I’m gonna show you. Watch me. I’m not perfect, there’s going to be issues. But I’ll always be faithful.” He shoots me a questioning glare. He doesn’t believe me yet, but he will.

His arms are crossed in a defensive position, but he looks up at me through his eyelashes and whispers, “Fine. Why the fuck not?”

That’s all I needed. I grab his chin and dive my tongue into his mouth. At first, he's hesitant and not really kissing me back, so I stand up with his legs wrapped around me. His arms fly up to grab my shoulders and I lay him down on the bed. Immediately, I’m on top of him, crowding his space. I grab his hands and hold them above his head, burying my face in his neck. After taking a much needed inhale of his scent, I growl into his ear, “Did you miss me?” He nods his head against mine, and I feel the shudder run through his body.

“I missed you, too, baby,” I say, bringing my hand up to his throat and squeezing just a bit. Not too much, but his eyes roll to the back of his head and his lids fall shut. “Did you mess around with Teddy to get back at me?”

His eyes pop open and his thick brows pull together. “What are you talking about? No, I’ve never been with Teddy.”

I tighten my grip on his throat. Not to hurt him. No, I do it because it turns me on. “I saw you and him laying together at the park last night.”

Heat blazes in his eyes, even though I know what I just said makes me seem like a stalker. He wraps his legs around me, pulling me closer. Now, he has me caged in. He rips one of his hands from my hold and reaches down— palming my dick through my sweatpants and grabs it. “Quit worrying about me and Teddy. It’s never gonna happen. We were tripping on acid; nothing sexual at all.”

I thrust my cock forward into his hand a few times. I believe him. I let go of his other hand and he pulls my pants down to my thighs. He starts stroking my cock, and unable to resist the temptation, I lean down and lick into his mouth. I love how he tastes. His lips are so full and soft against mine. Sitting back, I whip my shirt off, and notice his gaze falls to my pierced nipples as he pulls his lower lip between his teeth.

He shoots up from the bed, grabbing my sides and licks the sensitive bud. He looks up at me through the locks of golden hair falling in his face. “You like them a lot, don’t you?” I rasp. It turns me the fuck on how much his confidence has grown.

His cheeks turn red as he says, “I like your eyebrow piercing, too. You’re so damn hot.” He looks at me like I’m perfect. The simple and shy compliment sends heat through my body. I gather his hair in my hand and pull him away from my chest.

“Lie back on your stomach,” I growl. His eyes widen briefly before he rushes into the position. I pull his pants all the way off and throw them on the floor. His blue eyes drill into me as he looks over his shoulder. He looks like he wants to say something, but I palm both of his ass cheeks in my hands, spreading them apart. I start to lower my mouth and he wriggles out of my grip.

“Woah there! What are you doing?” he gasps.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re gonna like it, and if you don’t, I’ll stop.” He relaxes only slightly before I dart my tongue out against his hole. He jumps again and lets out a breathy oh.

I lock him down with my hands and knead the pale globes of his ass while I dive in. Greedily lapping and sucking. His startled moans are like music to my ears. I keep assaulting him with my tongue, getting it nice and soft, until he’s pushing back against me. My tongue slips inside and he lets out a shuddered moan that makes my dick jump against his sheets.

I slip one finger into him next to my tongue. It goes in with no resistance at all, so I add another and keep them still to let him adjust. Licking my way around my fingers, I start moving them in and out.

He’s moaning and whimpering into his pillow. He fucking loves it. He’s so goddamn perfect like this.

“Ahh... more,” he starts begging, and I nearly shoot my load from his needy, trembling voice alone. I sit up and watch my thick fingers slide in and out of his tight hole. It’s such a dirty sight, and I can’t tear my gaze from it.

“You want me to fuck you, pretty boy? That’s what you’re trying to say?” He stills as if he didn’t fully realize, but I don’t stop moving my fingers.

“W-will it hurt? Your dick is kind of huge,” he says, voice muffled by the pillow. He’s so fucking cute.

“Only one way to find out, baby.” I ease my fingers out of him and he finally looks at me.

“Why’d you stop?” he whines as I grab a condom and a pack of lube from my wallet. He narrows his eyes to slits when he notices. “Really,” he deadpans.

I lean over his body and take his mouth with mine before he can think too hard about it. He groans and relaxes against the pillow. I take my throbbing dick into my hand and quickly put the condom on. “Roll over.” I rub the lube up and down it and watch him closely.

I position myself between his legs, pushing them up against his chest. His eyes are glazed over and his cheeks are flushed red. I drop my gaze to his parted lips, and he opens wider immediately. I give him what he wants and spit into his mouth. When he swallows, I can’t hold back anymore.

Lining my dick up with his softened hole, I thrust in just a little. He grimaces and lets out a pained sound, digging his nails into my back. I want him to scratch harder, so I thrust in more and more. “Relax, baby.” He visibly tries to calm himself, pierced nostrils flaring with each heaving breath, and I push the rest of the way in.

I drop my forehead to his. “All of me is inside of you now.” I kiss him. Hard. I suck his lip so hard it’ll probably be sore tomorrow. I start to move my hips in and out of him, slow at first. Until he starts moaning into my mouth, then I pick up the pace. I slam in and out of him, brutally. Grabbing his face in both of my hands, I look into his eyes. And for a split second, it pisses me off how much something as simple as his eyelashes affect me.

“You’re mine now,” I growl. “My dick is the first you’ve ever felt, and it’s the only one you’ll ever need,” I punctuate each word with a thrust. His eyes are barely focused on mine. “No one else gets to have you ever again.” He yelps as I hit his prostate.

“No one else,” he mumbles. “Yours.” Hearing it from his mouth sounds so good, but he really doesn’t have a choice in the matter, anyway.

I reach down and pump his dick in my fist to match my strokes. I take in every square inch of him as he explodes in my hand, and trembles wrack through his body. “Damon,” he breathes, and my orgasm shoots through me. I collapse on top of him, unable to stay away. I know I’m pretty heavy so it’s a surprise when he wraps his arms and legs around me, instead of pushing me away.

Eventually his panting breaths turn even, and I sit up, letting my now soft dick fall out of him. He fell asleep with my dick inside of him. I pull the condom off and clean myself up in his bathroom before pulling him into my chest. “I’m so fucked,” I whisper into his hair.

15

Damon

A boyfriend. I actually have one of those now. That’s another thing I’ll add to the list of shit I didn’t see coming this year. I should’ve known we would end up like this.

My head is throbbing from all the blow I put up my nose last night, so I carefully get up to check the kitchen for some water. Ben’s dead asleep, probably because I fucked him so good last night.

The kitchen is a nightmare; it looks even worse in the daylight than it did last night. Upon opening the fridge, I see it’s pretty much empty. The door has some crusty-looking condiments, and there’s a nearly empty gallon of milk—expired.

Okay. I head to the sink to get some water from the tap, but after checking the cabinets, I gather that there isn’t a single clean cup. I turn the knob and nothing comes out. The water was shut off, guess his dad didn’t pay the bill.

An irrational anger starts to swirl in my gut. I never really had to go without anything growing up, but since moving here, I’ve met a lot of people who do struggle. This goddamn city is so expensive to live in. One of my old teammates even lived in a hotel with his mom.

I head back into the room. Ben’s in the same position I left him in. I can’t peel my eyes from the sight of him, especially knowing he’s completely naked under the blanket.

As soon as I get close enough to shake his shoulder, I hesitate. He looks so fucking pretty. I’ve rarely ever seen men who I’d describe as pretty, but he absolutely fits the bill. His cheekbones are so high and his lips are full, pouty. His lashes are thick and long. And his hair is a wild mix of curls and waves spread out over his pillow.

He looks so soft and vulnerable. None of the fiery energy he gives me when his defenses are high. I want him to always be like this with me, but it’s probably best that he isn’t. I can’t understand how his dad can just fucking leave him here like this, with little to no food and water.

I sink my fingers into his hair and tell him to wake up. He rouses from his sleep, luckily not frightened this time. When his lids reveal those crystal blue eyes, I seal my lips to his. He cups my face hesitantly, like he didn’t expect me to be here when he woke up.

All of this started about a month ago and I’ve already given him numerous reasons to not trust me. I want to change that.

“I want you to come stay at my house.”

He snort laughs and says, “I knew this was a dream.”

“Not a dream. Let’s go.”

His brows draw together and he sits up. Rubbing at his eyes, he says, “Don’t you think it’s a little... soon?”

“Yes. But, your water is shut off, there’s no food in your kitchen, and out of all the times I’ve been here, I haven’t seen your dad once.” His face colors with shame. “I’m not judging, Ben. I don’t mind you staying with me. I’d prefer you there than here.”

He sighs exhaustedly. “I didn’t know the water was off.” He shakes his head. “Yeah, okay. I’ll come stay with you, but only temporarily.”

I breathe a sigh of relief and watch him stretch his arms out. His gaze drops to my shirtless torso, so I make my pecs jump. God, I’m such a fucking dork.

“You seem... different this morning,” he says and narrows his gaze as if he’s inspecting me for an injury.

“How so?” I question.

“I don’t know. You’re not all broody and serious, I guess.”

I scoff. Broody. “There’s still time left, pretty boy. The day’s not over,” I tease. “Pack your stuff.”

He stands up with the blanket still wrapped around his waist. “I don’t think so,” I tsk. “I literally ate your ass last night, there’s no reason to be shy around me now.”

He gapes at me like a fish. His mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to figure out what to say. He ends up shaking his head and dropping the blanket. I grab his ass and pull him in for a kiss, startling him only slightly. “You’re so fucking sexy. Glad I can have you whenever I want now.”

He groans into my mouth and pushes me away with a hand on my chest. “If you don’t stop, we’re never gonna get out of here.”

16

Ben

“Here, babe,” Damon says as he passes me his bong. I feel like my mind hasn’t caught up yet. All the shit that’s happened since I came back from South Carolina… I never would have expected this. I have a boyfriend now. And we live together. And he fucked me last night.

I’ve just been going with the flow and listening to what my body tells me to do, but it’s all hitting me now.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, B?”

The fog clears from my brain, and I look at him. Really look at him. His thick brows, with that bar through one. His wide shoulders. The lines on his forehead that he shouldn’t have since he’s so young, yet there they are.

“I just never saw this coming.”

“Sure, you did. You said yourself, you always looked at me differently. I think deep inside, you knew.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.” I hit the bong. “I’m not fishing, but why me? I feel like you could have anyone. You found someone fast enough at that party.”

He takes a deep breath and lets his head fall back on the couch. “There’s something about you that makes me keep coming back. No matter how many times I tell myself to stay away.”

“Why would you tell yourself to stay away? Why not let yourself have what you want?”

His hand resting on my thigh tightens.

“I don’t want to ruin you. I don’t think I could handle it.”

Fear pangs deep in my gut. It dawns on me that I’m scared too. For once, I feel good. When I’m with him, there’s no room in my brain to worry about all the shit consuming me, because he consumes me. I don’t want to let that go.

Turning my head, I see his eyes are already locked on me. Assessing, like I might run away. I lift my hands slowly to his face and pull it toward mine. Our lips meet. and it feels like our fate is sealed. We’re both in this for better or worse.

He works his tongue into my mouth aggressively. And I take it all, willingly. Needy. This seems to be a common theme for us.

He parts with a hand on my throat. I’m sure my eyes are hazy with lust just from a kiss. His brows draw together as he inspects me. “Why are you so fucking pretty?”

A laugh erupts from me. “Never been called pretty before you.” It’s a weird compliment to get as a guy. I don’t hate it, though. “Why do you sound so angry about it?” I joke.

His voice drops lower. “I see your face, and it makes me want to do anything to make you keep looking at me like that. To keep all that prettiness for my eyes only.”

I drop my head to his neck, and groan. “You can’t just say stuff like that. All growly and possessive.”

He chuckles. “Get used to it, baby. Can’t help the sappy shit that comes out when I’m with you.”

We stay there, cuddled up on the couch for the rest of the night, watching Game of Thrones.

Damon told me he’ll take me to school every day. I tried rejecting his offer, but he insisted. So the next morning, when my alarm goes off, we get ready together. He dons his Subway uniform, and I throw on some black jeans and a black shirt, as usual.

It’s first thing in the morning and he’s playing heavy metal music on his loud-as-fuck stereo in the car. It’s perfect. I roll my window down to let the sun warm my skin. It’s already hot this early in the day, another thing to be happy about.

Damon keeps a possessive hand on my thigh the entire ride, and when we arrive, he whips into a parking spot. “We’ve got some time to kill before school starts, right?” he asks.

I glance at the time on the dashboard. “Yup. About twenty minutes to spare,” I say with a smirk. He turns the radio down a little bit, and “Romance” by Varials starts playing.

He grabs my hand and puts it on his crotch. His dick is half-hard beneath his slacks already. He grips my wrist harder and rubs it against his lengthening erection.

I stop my hand and my gaze darts out the window. “Aren’t you worried someone’s gonna see us?”

He looks around the parking lot. It’s now that I realize he parked in the very back. There are some students lined up by the door, but they’re so far away I can barely see them. “My windows are tinted dark, so they can’t see in, remember?”

I nod my head. I still feel slightly nervous, but the risk of being caught—even though it's very low—sends a thrill through me. My dick lengthens against my tight jeans.

“Take my dick out, baby.” He grabs my chin and pulls me into a soft kiss. A small noise escapes me as I work his slacks open. His dick is so heavy and hot in my palm. Our lips and teeth clash together as I stroke him.

“Use your mouth,” he rasps against my lips. Whenever he uses his deep, gravelly voice, heat rushes through my veins. He could get me to do anything just by talking like that.

He pulls his pants down his thighs, so I can have easier access. I’m practically on all fours leaning over the center console as I wrap my lips around the flared head of his dick. He groans, but it sounds more like a growl. His hip thrusts up, pushing himself deeper into my mouth. “God, you feel so fucking good.” I bob my head up and down faster, and run my fingers through the dark hair on his thighs up to his balls. He’s mumbling things under his breath, and I hear him say, “Love your mouth”.

His breathing stutters and I feel his cock throb against my tongue right before he explodes. His hips stop thrusting and relax on the seat. Leaning back, I lick the remnants of his cum from my lips.

His eyes are half-lidded and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He grabs my chin and pulls my mouth open again. His eyes burn into mine as he spits into my mouth and pushes it closed again.

I swallow it, and he tucks himself back into his pants.

I hear a car door slam and I jump, just as the reality of the situation washes over me. “It’s alright, babe. They didn’t see anything.”

I nod and clear my throat, but the air in the car suddenly feels stifling. “I have to go home today to meet my therapist.”

“Didn’t know you had a therapist,” he says, quirking a brow at me.

“Every Monday after school. I don’t miss the appointments. Ever.”

He grabs my hand and holds it against his face. “Okay, that’s good. Do you have a way to get there? I’ll be off work by then. I’ll take you.”

I tell him that’s fine and get out of the car. He’s so affectionate with me, always touching me or making me touch him. As I sit down and wait for the ancient computer to power on, it dawns on me how much I miss the comforting weight of his hand on my leg. My face falls into my palms, and I stifle a groan. I’m already so attached.

Sitting on my bed in front of Sam makes me realize how much has transpired over the course of a week. She’s watching me patiently, while I pick at the skin around my fingernail. Her legs are crossed in front of her and her notebook is resting on her lap. She’s a perfect picture of calm.

“So, how’s the new school going?” she asks softly.

I look her in the eye, finally. “School is fine. I kind of have something else I want to talk about today, though.” I pause and work up the nerve to get it out. I don’t know why I’m so nervous that she won’t support my decision.

“I’m staying at Damon’s house. Temporarily.” The words rush from my mouth.

She looks thoughtful, but simply asks, “Why?”

“Well… Dad’s never home. I haven’t seen him since some time last week. And the water’s shut off.” Instead of telling her Damon essentially broke into the house, I say, “I had Damon over the other night and he noticed. He offered me to stay at his place.”

She nods her head. “Well, that was nice of him, but are there any strings attached to this agreement?”

“No… we’re kind of dating right now. I know it’s really fast, but it’s no big deal. I could come back here anytime I want to. And I’m not going to start missing our sessions.”

“Would you rather me go to his house for our sessions?” she asks.

I consider it for a minute, but who knows how long I’ll actually be staying there. The other shoe could drop tomorrow. And even if I end up staying there for a while, he may not feel comfortable having a stranger at his house every week. “No. That’s okay.”

“Does your dad know?”

“Not yet. I’m gonna call and tell him today. It’s not like he can tell me no. He knows that he’s neglecting me, and I don’t have another option.”

“That’s true, but he is your father, and he does care. Just be gentle about it, and hopefully he won’t explode.”

Fear settles in my gut, but I nod my head in agreement. “So, tell me more about you and Damon’s relationship.”

I tell her everything that’s happened between us, leaving out some details. Like us doing cocaine together.

Her expression looks concerned, but she says, “Remember that you’re not worthless. I can tell you really like him, and it’s rare to see you feel anything so strongly like that. But take it slow. Okay?”

I nod my head.

“Well, that’s all the time we have today, I’ll see you next Monday, Ben.”

I walk her out of the house and see Damon pulling back in the driveway. He rolls down his window and waves at Sam, introducing himself. Her face lights up as she walks over to him. They have a brief exchange, and she smiles brightly at me before getting in her car.

He’s so goddamn likable.

After locking the door, I get in his car. Immediately, he grabs my face and sucks my lip into his mouth. “Let’s have some people over tonight.”

“Okay.” I drag the word out. “Who?”

“Jasper, of course. And some other friends. And you should invite Ant, Teddy, and Liam.”

“Sounds good to me.”

He’s got this buzzing energy about him, like the car can barely contain him. I shoot a text to the group chat, inviting everyone over, and of course, they’re all game.

I also send a long text to my dad.

Me: Hey. Haven’t seen you at the house in a long time. I don’t know where you are or what’s going on. They shut the water off, and there’s no food. So, I’ll be staying at a friend's house for a while. Stay safe. Love you.

Damon squeezes my thigh. “Why are you looking at your phone like it personally offended you?”

I let out an exaggerated sigh. “Texted my dad.”

“Ah. Well, don’t worry about it. He should be texting you, not the other way around,” he says, his brows set in a hard line.

Simple as that.

17

Damon

“Chug. Chug. Chug,” the chorus rings out all around me. Everyone’s packed into my small kitchen, urging Ben to chug a beer. He brings the glass bottle up to his mouth, shoots me a wicked smirk, and licks the bottle from bottom to top in one fluid motion. He does it quickly, then he brings the rim to his lips, tips it back, and gives it a spin so the beer forms a vortex inside that funnels straight into his throat. His Adam's apple bobs as he drinks the whole bottle in like, ten seconds flat.

All of our friends yell excitedly, but my mouth is hanging open in adoration. When he slams the bottle down on the counter and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes glint as they meet mine briefly.

Ant slaps him on the back and steers him out of the kitchen to the living room. I follow, along with some other people, settle right next to him on the couch, and grab his chin. “That was so fucking sexy, baby. Where’d you even learn that?” I’m sure I look downright predatory, but his glassy eyes crinkle at the corner with a smile.

“TikTok”.

A laugh booms out of me. “Well, I’m sure it didn’t look like that on TikTok.”

He shrugs. “Maybe you should check it out yourself, old man.”

“Old?” I slap my hand on my chest, feigning hurt. “I’m a year older than you, ass. When’s your birthday, anyway?”

“It’s in a couple weeks, actually.” He says thoughtfully. “Didn’t realize it was so soon. September eighth.”

“Good to know.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t get any ideas. I never have birthday parties. I usually just use it as an excuse to get drunk and smoke weed.”

Ant interrupts us, “Roll a blunt, Ben! We need you.” He has his hands clasped in a pretty please gesture, his bottom lip jutting out.

“If you insist,” Ben responds, acting all humble about it. He starts to grind up the weed while I take stock of the room. Jazz has the girl from the other week on his lap. A couple of my old basketball buddies are still in the kitchen. And Teddy and Liam are on the porch. The blinds are open on the sliding glass door, and Teddy’s arms are flying all over as he talks to him. He looks pretty angry.

I lean over and whisper to Ben, “Maybe you should check on Teddy, soon.” I shoot a pointed look at the door. He follows my gaze while his tongue flicks across the blunt wrap. His brows furrow as he seals the blunt.

“Yeah, I will. Thanks for telling me.”

He lights up the blunt and takes a few hits before passing it to me. He stands up and heads to the porch. Liam mock salutes him and comes back inside, taking the spot next to me.

“Teddy okay?” I ask, handing over the blunt. His brows are drawn in tight, and he looks angry as he twirls one of his dreads in his fingers. I’ve never really talked to him much, so it’s kind of weird to butt in like this. But, he needs to get used to me. I’m not going anywhere any time soon.

“He’s all hung up on some fucking idiot he met online,” he says, shaking his head. “He complains to me all the time about him, but he doesn’t do shit about it. I told him I could go handle his ass right now, but he made me promise not to.”

“Fuck that. Hit me up if you need help with that.”

He shakes his head and laughs sarcastically. “I didn’t even know he was into dudes. We’ve been friends since middle school, and he never even told me. What the fuck’s up with that?”

“You’ll probably take this the wrong way, but fuck it. He was probably scared.”

He looks truly surprised, like the thought never occurred to him.

“He knows I don’t have a problem with gay people. That doesn’t make any sense.”

I lean back into my couch. “People will say that exact same thing until a person close to them comes out. Then they start treating them differently. You’re important to him, so he probably didn’t want to risk your friendship.”

He takes a moment to digest those words. I can see when something settles into place in his mind. “I’d never leave him. Ever. He’s stuck with me. But he better start getting honest about shit, because apparently I don’t know him at all.”

He appears to be deep in thought and I’ve given enough unqualified advice for the day, so I go to my room and lock the door. It’s not like anyone will come in here, but it’s a force of habit. I pull the bag of coke from my pocket and empty it out on my nightstand. I can feel my body getting jittery and anxious to do it already.

A knock sounds at the door and Ben calls out my name. I take one look at the coke, debating doing it before I open the door. But, I cross the room and open it, instead.

I try to appear nonchalant as his eyes fall on the lines I made. “How much coke do you do?”

“Not much, only at parties and stuff. I told you that already.” Lie. I’ve been doing it almost every day for a while now.

He hums, seeming like he has more to say. “Well, hurry up. Ant wants to play beer pong, and I want you on my team.”

He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I lean over and snort all three lines in rapid succession and pinch my nose to ease the burn. His forehead is creased with concern, but I can’t find it in me to care.

I grab his hand and lead him out of the room. He seems off for the rest of the night. I carefully ignore it, because I just got him back. I don’t want another explosive argument to get in between us again.

We play a few rounds of beer pong and send everyone home since we both have work and school tomorrow morning.

Ben tried to stay in bed this morning when I shook him awake, but I told him he needs to go to school. No excuses. He said, “I despise you,” before rolling out of bed and getting ready.

I would definitely be in the same boat as him if I hadn’t done a couple lines of blow before waking him up.

My day of bullshit at Subway passes by in a blur of lettuce and shitty pop songs. The only thing that prevented me from tearing off my apron and walking out is knowing I’ll get to have Ben all to myself when I get off.

I’m waiting in my car, smoking a cigarette when he finally comes out of the building. He walks right up to my window.

“Let me bum a smoke, darlin’,” he says with a hand on his hip, acting like one of those old ladies who smoke two packs a day, even though they have emphysema.

I laugh. “Get in the car, dumbass.” I do hand him one though, and grab the lighter before he can.

“Ladies don’t light their own cigarettes,” I joke.

He makes his eyebrows jump at me a couple times as I light it.

“Such a gentleman,” he says, placing the back of his hand on his forehead, swooning.

I shake my head and turn the song up louder—“Time Changes Everything” by The Plot in You.

I park on the street in front of my dealer’s house.

“Where are we?” Ben asks curiously.

“Just need to re-up. Won’t be too long, just stay in the car and lock the doors.”

We’re in a pretty rough part of town. The houses are all dilapidated and there’s big dudes posted up on chairs in front of them. They’re used to seeing me around here, so they don’t give me any problems.

I knock on the metal frame of the screen door. “Avalon! You home?”

“Hold up!” I hear him shout and then a toilet flushes. He opens the door and daps me up before plopping down on his sofa.

“Money?”

I pull the wad out of my back pocket and hand it over, happy to finally get it away from me. “Same as usual?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah, same amount for the weed. But I need more coke this time.”

He assesses me with his gaze. The whites of his eyes are bloodshot and yellowed. “It ain’t my place, D. But you need to slow down with all that coke you're doin’ before the coke starts doin’ you. Know what I mean?”

I chuckle and shake my head. Old head’s always have a weird way of saying shit.

“Not funny. You’re young. Got a whole life ahead of you.”

“I’m good, man. Thanks for the advice though.”

He looks at me like I’m stupid, but still bags up the stuff I bought.

“If you ever get too high and you need to come down quickly, try taking a Xanax bar.”

I’ve heard about people taking bars to go to sleep. It’s been getting more and more difficult to come down from all the blow at the end of every day, so I tell him I’ll buy a few of those too.

Only took about ten minutes, tops, and I have everything I need right here in my pocket.

When I sit down in my car, Ben’s smoking another one of my cigarettes.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he rushes to say.

“Of course not, baby, I’ll buy you your own pack, though. Need to get gas, anyway.”

He seems hesitant at first, but thinks better of it. I know I can be overbearing, but he’s got me all fucked up. One look at his big blue eyes, framed by those thick lashes, and I knew I’ll do anything for him. Give him anything. He has total control over me, and he doesn’t even realize it. I’m rearranging my whole life around him.

He looks at me like I’m perfect—like he’d forgive me for anything. It’s a heady feeling.

“Let’s go out to eat. Did you eat their shitty lunch today?”

He looks sheepish. “No. I stayed back in class and worked through lunch. I got a lot finished today. Pretty sure I’m the only one in that hellhole who’s actually trying to graduate.”

“So you haven’t eaten at all today?” I ask, somewhat annoyed.

He shakes his head. My knuckles turn white around the steering wheel as I refrain from saying something I might regret.

I love his body—the way his collar bones protrude from his chest at sharp points, the way I can rub my fingers down every rib bone. Even the twin points where his hip bones protrude are obscenely hot.

But, it’s literally malnutrition. His father never fucking kept food in the house and just thinking about it has my blood boiling.

I reach over and grip his thigh, choosing to show affection instead of freaking the fuck out.

How sensible of me.

18

Ben

I don’t remember the last time I actually went out to eat, like sitting in a restaurant across from someone, making small talk and ordering food. And this is also pretty much a date since we’re boyfriends now.

None of these facts are helping my nervousness at all. My knee is bouncing up and down and my lip might be bleeding before we leave this Ale House.

We’re on the posh side of town. Manicured lawns, massive houses, no bums sleeping in the medians on the street.

We’re seated at one of those high-top tables, and the lighting is dim, even though it's only three or four in the afternoon. We just put our orders in. I ordered one of the cheapest things on the menu—of course, because Damon’s going to pay for all of it. A Zinger Mountain Melt, which is just french fries with chicken tenders tossed in buffalo sauce and topped with cheese and stuff like that.

“I’ve never been to this place before,” I tell him.

His brows shoot into his hairline. “Really? I’ve been coming here with my grandma since I was a kid.”

He gave me an opening to actually get to know him more. He’s usually this ridiculously dark and mysterious dude, so I go right in for the kill.

“What about your mom and dad? Did they ever take you here?”

His mouth is set into a thin line as he brings his drink up to it. The light casts shadows over his deep-set eyes, so I can’t tell what his expression is.

He clears his throat. “I don’t like talking about them, but I guess you deserve to know about me,” he says with a chuckle. He’s trying to make light of his impenetrable exterior.

“You don’t have to tell me everything, ya know. Just let me in a little.”

“I don’t actually know where my mom is. I’ve seen a few pictures of her, but the most I could ever hear about her from my dad was that she’s just a crack whore.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“My dad married Dina when I was eight. My childish mind thought I’d have some say in his decision when I asked him not to, but I was wrong. He should’ve listened to me. She’s ruined him.”

The waitress approaches hesitantly, like she can sense the weight of our conversation. She sets down our food with a polite, “Anything else I can get for you, guys?”

“No, thank you,” I say, and she walks away.

“What made her so awful?” I ask. He takes a few bites of his burger and wipes his mouth with the napkin.

“My mom may have been a crack whore,” he says with air quotes, napkin still in hand, “but Dina is an alcoholic. A lot of people would choose alcohol over crack any day, but I know how bad an alcoholic can be.”

“Yeah. I get that.” I don’t know if he’s comfortable with showing affection to me in public, but I reach over and put my hand over his. He flips his hand over in mine and holds it, stroking his thumb over my skin. I should’ve known he wouldn’t care. Who was I kidding? Damon doesn’t give a fuck about anything, but my heart is pounding through my chest right now. What if one of those old dudes at the bar has something to say? My eyes flit around the restaurant.

“Don’t worry about them, Ben. You can’t let what they think bother you. This is who you are. They can touch their wives, who probably hate them, in public. So you can touch me whenever you want, no matter where we are.”

I nod, but I still feel nervous.

“Look at me. I’ll rip them apart. Do I look like I give a fuck about making a scene? I’m crazy as hell, baby.” He leans toward me, and I can finally see the look on his face, the wicked glint in his eyes sending a chill down my spine.

I clear my throat and discreetly adjust my skinny jeans, which are suddenly uncomfortably tight. His pierced brow quirks upward and a smirk matching the wickedness in his eyes lights up his face.

Shit. Guess I have a thing for crazy eyes now. Maybe it’s just Damon. I have a thing for all things Damon.

He leans back abruptly. “Dina—she never liked me. I was the thorn in her side from the day we moved in with her. She was such a sloppy drunk and always stirred shit up with my dad. They’d fight a lot. Like physically throwing punches and shit. I vividly remember one time she was wasted, and my dad locked her out of the house. Didn’t want to be bothered with her shit, I guess. But he caved. When he finally let her in, she punched him in the face.

“I was sitting on the couch right there. She’s huge, almost taller than him. To be honest, she rocked his shit. He stumbled back and then grabbed her and pushed her. Hard. She fell into the glass coffee table in front of me, and it shattered beneath her.”

I jumped as he abruptly ended the story. I don’t know why I didn’t expect it to end so violently. I’m no stranger to violence, but I’ve never seen a man do that to a woman.

My forehead creases. “How do you even pick a side when something like that happens? You love your dad, and you hate your stepmom, but he put his hands on a woman.”

“I didn’t. I fucking hate them both, and they hate me, too. So it is what it is. Fuck ‘em. That’s only one story. There’s a million more fucked up things they put themselves and me through.”

He lets go of my hand and starts eating his food again. I don’t really have anything to say that could make him feel better about it all, but it seems like his mind’s made up. He’s choosing to be careless about it all. And I know from personal experience what that amounts to. He’ll bottle up all his shit until he explodes. I study him closely. I have a feeling his explosion won’t be like mine. Mine is always self-destructive, throwing all my cares to the wind. No more trying to make it to tomorrow. His will probably be a violent, uncontrollable rage.

I can’t tell which would be worse, but I foolishly hope I never have to find out.

19

Damon

Me: So what are we doing for Ben’s birthday?

I shoot the text off to the group chat I made with Teddy, Liam, and Ant.

He’s been staying at my house for a little over a week now, and it’s been easy. Scarily easy. We just get along so well, and we have a routine of sorts now. Every day, I wake him up for school and he refuses to get up, but usually a blowjob will do the trick. I take him to school and then leave for work. If I don’t have work, then I come home or play video games with Jazz. After I pick him up from school, we usually opt to stay in and watch Game of Thrones. We haven’t gone out or had people over at all this whole time.

That’s not a usual occurrence for either one of us, and I’m starting to feel a little stir crazy.

Liam: I don’t know, big man. What you got in mind?

Ant: He’s gonna want to get lit, we have to throw a party.

Well no shit. I figured as much—but where?

Teddy: I can bring the good stuff *wink wink*

Me: Okay, you do that. I’m gonna hit up Danny, he’ll probably let us throw a party there.

Danny never turns down a party.

The passenger door to my car suddenly opens, and a blond head of wavy hair appears.

“Hey, baby,” he says. I pull him closer and press my lips to his. It’s like second nature now. All it took was us being stuck up each other’s asses for a while—well, me stuck up his ass, and now he’s confident around me.

He’s been opening up to me. Not all the way, but he’s placing trust in me. I don’t want to fuck this up. I want to give him the best birthday party he’s ever had, even though he told me his last birthday party was when he was seven years old.

He’s shared little bits about his life with me. From what I’ve gathered, his mom is a drug addict like mine, except she’s addicted to painkillers and heroin, not crack. His dad is just a depressed man. Ben still doesn’t actually know where his spends all of his time away from the house, but he thinks his dad’s doing drugs again.

His life has been pretty fucking bleak. Reminds me a lot of mine. The main difference is I wasn’t under the poverty line like him.

I glance over at him. He took off his t-shirt and rolled the window down—basking in the sun like a reptile. A smile touches my lips. I’m not used to smiling so much, but I can’t help feeling so carefree around him. I let my walls slip. The only other person who’s ever seen this side of me is Jazz.

His phone rings, jolting me from my thoughts. The small smile that was glued to his face disappears when he holds his phone up. It says Mom.

His eyes find me, and he looks like he’s seen a ghost. My forehead wrinkles. “Are you gonna answer it?” I ask.

“I should. What if something bad happened?” He shakes his head like his mind is made up, but he brings the phone to his ear, anyway.

“Hey, mom,” he says as I park the car in front of my apartment. “Wait. Slow down,” he tells her. “He kicked you out? I don’t have any money. I don’t have a job, what do you expect me to do about it?”

He’s chewing his nail and bouncing his leg furiously. “I can’t do this,” he says, raising his voice. I’ve never heard him yell before; he usually maintains this monotone voice. And sometimes he slips into a much softer voice when we’re cuddling at night.

He takes some shaky breaths. “Stay safe. Love you, Mom, but I can’t help. Bye.”

He throws his phone on the floor and covers his face with his hands. I reach over and rub my hand down his spine. “You want to talk about it?”

A sob rips from his throat, and pain slices through my chest as if his pain is my own.

“Hey, baby, it's okay. C’mon. Come here.” I reach down and recline my seat back. Grabbing his hand, I pull him toward me and get a glimpse of his beet red face, his cheeks streaked with tears.

He climbs over the center console clumsily, but when he settles on my lap, I feel like I can help him. Like maybe he can feel how much I care.

“She overdosed last night,” he chokes out. “And I didn’t even know. She could have died, and I wouldn’t have known.”

His words crash into me; I open my mouth to say something, anything to make him feel better, but nothing comes out. I hold him to my chest as tight as I can. The sobs turn to cries, and eventually, whimpers. I tangle my hands in his hair and pull his face from my neck. His swollen eyes and tear streaked cheeks cause me physical pain. I actually feel the stabs in my heart. But no tears well up in my eyes. The pain stays deep inside of me.

“What did she need money for?” I ask. He wipes his eyes roughly and scoffs.

“Her boyfriend stole all of her drugs and money when she was foaming at the mouth. At least the fucking piece of shit called the ambulance before he left.” He shakes his head. “She doesn’t need any money. She’ll just go and buy more heroin with it.”

I nod, makes sense. That’s rule number one when dealing with an addict: don’t be an enabler.

“Has she OD’d before?”

“Probably, but this is the first time I’ve ever known about it.” He’s much calmer now. His chest rises and falls at a slower pace. “The craziest thing is I somehow convinced myself that I wouldn’t care if she died. I thought I accepted the fact that she’s pretty much a dead man walking. I even cut ties with her since I came back this summer. No. Contact.”

Death. It doesn’t matter who you are, it’s the one true weakness within all of us. The death of a loved one has the power to kill you in the same way. You become a shell. Hollowed out. May as well be in the casket with them.

“She’s your mom. No matter what she’s done to you, you’ll never be able to separate yourself from her in that way. I get that you put up those boundaries, and it makes sense. Living in the illusion that she doesn’t exist is okay, but she obviously still lives in your heart. And that’s okay, too.”

His bloodshot eyes drill into me, like he’s piecing me apart. I fix my gaze on his thick eyelashes that are clumped together with tears, and maintain the stony expression on my face.

The sensation of his hand cupping my cheek jolts me. My eyes fall to his. “You know it’s okay to not be okay, right?” He presses his forehead to mine.

I scoff. Look at us. Two fucked up people trying to give each other advice. Instead of letting my brain fuck off with that information, I seal my lips to his. I pull his lip between my teeth, which tastes salty from his tears. He whimpers softly into my mouth. His sweet little whimpers are quickly becoming my favorite sound. I close my eyes and bury my nose in his hair, inhaling his scent.

“Your birthday plans are coming together. I talked to the boys. We’re gonna have a party at Danny’s house, and Liam said he’ll bring the good stuff. Whatever that means,” I say.

He laughs. “Oh god, it could be anything. LSD, ecstasy, molly, maybe even DMT.”

“You trying to do any of that? It’s your birthday after all.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back against the steering wheel accidentally honking the horn. We erupt with laughter.

“Let’s take this conversation into the house,” he says through gasping breaths, leaning over to grab his phone from the floor.

I pop the door open and let him climb out. I follow behind him, watching his back muscles flex as he climbs the steps to my house.

When we get inside, he immediately flops on the couch and pulls a pre-rolled joint out of the wooden box I keep on the coffee table. He lights the tip with quick efficiency. “What a fucking day,” he sighs, exhaling the smoke from his perfect lips. I lay down on the couch with my head on his lap, curling my arm around him and his fingers automatically start scratching the tense muscles of my back, just the way I like it. My body relaxes into the cushions.

Fuck. I never want to take this for granted. I can see my whole world revolving around him. Shit, it already does. The thought stirs something eerie in my gut. Fear.

20

Ben

Today’s the day. All of the years I’ve spent under the responsibility of my parents, mainly my dad, have come to an end. All this time, I’ve felt powerless, having no say in anything that happens to me. All of the evictions and moving. The hunger. The neglect. I’m eighteen years old, and it feels no different. I still feel bound to my parents, even though they legally can’t decide for me anymore. The noose is still tied firmly around my neck.

I lift the 40oz beer to my lips and chug it down, tasting the bitter, malty flavor on my tongue. We just arrived at my birthday party, which really seems to just be a party Danny was going to throw, anyway. Most of these people don’t even know it’s my birthday. Lucky for me, because I’d rather not have to chat up all of these random ass people I’ve never met.

The party is in full swing already, though. Some song by Bones is booming through the speakers. I think it’s called “RestInPeace”, but most of his music sounds the same, so it’s hard to tell. There’s at least a hundred people here. Some of them are out front in the yard, but most of us are packed inside.

For some fucking reason, every year on my birthday, there’s this inevitable sadness that creeps up on me. And I can feel it clawing me from the inside right now. I just need Teddy to get here already, so I can take some Molly, and hopefully feel like my skin isn’t crawling.

I lock my gaze on Damon who’s currently playing a game of beer pong against Ant. He’s larger than life, larger than this grimy ass house party we’re at. His shirt is tucked in the back pocket of his dark skinny jeans, and all of his tanned, bulging muscles are on display. The fucking nipple rings. I would fall to his feet right here, right now if he asked me to.

The smallest things about him get to me the most. Like the way he just placed his very large, calloused hand over his abs while he tossed the ping pong ball with the most precise flick of his wrist. And the smirk that lit up his face when it landed in Ant’s cup. I want his smirk fixed on me and only me.

Times like this make me wonder why he’s with me.

As if he could sense me eye-fucking him from across the room, his gaze meets mine. He motions for me to come over to him, but at the exact same moment, Teddy pounces on me from behind, nearly tackling me to the floor. “Happy birthday!” he yells.

In spite of my depressive thoughts, laughter bubbles up in my chest.

“I got the goods, my dude.”

I manage to stand up straight and turn around to face him. “Oh, yeah? What are the goods this time?”

“Molly molly molly.” He grabs my hand and slaps down two clear capsules filled with the substance. “Go ahead, take ‘em,” he urges me.

So I do. I wash them down with my beer. Molly is easier to handle than ecstasy and acid. It doesn’t last as long and is milder, which makes it even more fun since you can actually handle yourself on it. Mostly.

Strong arms wrap around my neck from behind, and I turn my head to see Damon. He plants a wet kiss on my mouth that I feel all the way in my toes.

“Took some molly?” he growls into my ear. I nod my head against him.

“Gonna be a good night.”

An hour later, the two small capsules I ate are in full effect. Every square inch of my skin is warm and tingling with sensation. I can feel a buzzing energy inside of me trying to get out, and I’m drenched in sweat. The exuberant smile hasn’t left my face at all, and my teeth will probably hate me for it tomorrow. But tonight… Tonight is everything.

We’re outside in the front yard now, and the air feels lighter than ever. None of the usual pesky humidity. We’re all out here, sitting in a circle, talking animatedly about who knows what. It strikes me, not for the first time, how easily Damon gets along with all my boys. An overwhelming feeling of affection fills me until I crawl into his lap and hug him tightly.

“Everything okay, baby?” His low voice sends shivers down my spine.

“Of course,” I respond. “You’re just so… perfect. And I really, really like you. A lot.” I hold my breath awaiting his response. I’ve never gotten this mushy with him.

He puts his hands in my hair and pulls my head back to look me in my eyes. His pupils are blown, making his eyes appear to be two inky pools of darkness. “A lot, huh? How much?” he questions, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Too much,” I say, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. Everything keeps adding up in my head. I feel like I’m drowning in him. Since I’ve been staying at his house, I want to be close to him every moment of the day. I’m starting to need him. I feel like a junkie.

Not to mention, I’m starting to care about things. Things he wouldn’t want me to worry about—like his cocaine use. Which is starting to seem more like an addiction to me than harmless fun. I haven’t said anything, though. I don’t want him to explode like he used to in the beginning. Things have been so good and calm.

I hear the obvious snorting sounds coming from the bathroom when we get home. I notice how his pupils are always blown and the whites of his eyes are often tinged with broken blood vessels. His movements are jerky and his jaw twitches.

At night I’m always the first one asleep. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t go to sleep until much later—even though he always goes to bed at the same time as me, because I woke up at three in the morning to take a piss one night and he was still awake, scrolling through his phone.

My first instinct was I hope he’s not cheating on me. Which is fucked up, I know, but I don’t fully trust anyone. And our relationship is new. Hell, I’m still afraid to express any concerns to him.

“Hey,” he says, snapping me from my spiral of negative thoughts. He smooths out the wrinkle between my brows. “What’s wrong? I thought we were having a good night.”

I take a steadying breath. “Nothing, everything’s fine.”

His face grows serious, and he stands up, pulling me up with him, so I don’t fall out of his lap. Holding my hand, he leads me to an isolated spot by the road and sits down.

“You’re lying. And we don’t do that shit. No reason to lie to each other. You went from looking at me like I’m your everything to looking at me like a stranger in ten seconds flat, so tell me what’s really on your mind.”

Well, my high is definitely wearing off now. I reach into my pocket and pull out a cigarette, hands shaking. I light it while cupping the side to shield from the wind. All the while, Damon is scrutinizing me with his gaze. The smoke only calms my nerves incrementally.

“I’m worried about you. I think you do too much coke.” That’s it. I lay it all out there.

He scoffs. “I can handle myself just fine, thanks for your concern though,” he says sarcastically.

“I hear you doing it in the bathroom all the time. You barely sleep. You told me you only do it at parties and shit,” I continue.

“So fuckin what? I go to work. I spend time with you. I’m not out running the streets, doing bad shit.” His voice raises fractionally, sounding angrier and angrier.

I cut in, “It’s not about that. It’s bad for you. Why do you want to be addicted to something? You and I both know what it does to people. And I don’t want to see that happen to you.”

“I’m not addicted to anything. Matter of fact, you wanna know what I’m addicted to? You. Because I don’t need this shit, someone picking apart my life. And yet, here you are. Because, I need you. I won’t let you go, so—” He’s pacing around now, his muscles rippling through his skin, spit flying. “You might as well get used to it, Ben.”

“It doesn’t need to be like this.” My voice cracks. “This is why I didn’t want to say anything. You get so crazy. All I’m trying to say is maybe slow down a little bit.”

I hear someone walking toward us, and turn around to see Ant. “You good, Ben?” I can't see his face, only the outline of his body from the orange glow of the street lamp.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I shout back to him, but he doesn’t turn around or walk away. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and stands there, making sure I’m safe. Ever the protector. I roll my eyes.

“Oh, so he thinks I’m gonna hurt you or something?” Damon muses, his brows drawn in. He reaches in his pocket, pulls out a baggie and his keys. My mouth falls open as I stare at him in bewilderment. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. Sure enough, he scoops a bump on his key and sniffs it.

“Fuck this shit. Y’all think I’m crazy, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He stalks toward me and reaches in his pocket again, pulling out an individual key. “I was gonna ask you to move in, for good,” he says, his words cold. “But I see how it is. I’m gonna leave this party. Come home to me if you want to. If not, I don’t give a fuck.” He thrusts the key into my hand, spins on his heels and storms away. I watch him get into his car and speed down the road.

My heart feels like it will rip through my chest any moment now. What the fuck just happened?

“What the fuck was that about?” Liam calls from behind me. I turn around and see my boys standing right behind me, and judging from the looks on their faces, I’m sure they saw it all.

“He’s high.” Are the only two words I can say to explain his behavior just now. Teddy puts his head on my shoulder. “Are you really going to move in with him?” he asks, sounding doubtful. Liam looks downright pissed, ready to throw hands. And Ant’s eyes are tinged with disappointment.

I don’t even have to consider my answer. The word leaves my mouth easily. “Yes.”

21

Damon

I put my fist through the wall. Twice. The blood is running down my arm in thin rivulets. I kicked my coffee table over, most of my bongs and bowls are now a pile of glass on the floor.

It’s been hours since I left Ben, standing there in the street. I’ll never forget the look on his face. It was like he didn’t recognize me, like all of the minutes and days we’ve spent together never happened. And he still hasn’t come home. He probably never will. He’s not coming back.

“Fuck,” I yell and punch the wall again. I knew this shit would happen. I knew he could never love me, but it’s surprising to me just how painful it is. It’s gut wrenching. My chest is heaving and it feels like I can barely suck air into my lungs.

Will no one ever give enough fucks about me to stick around? I make my way to my bedroom and pull the Xanax out of my nightstand and immediately swallow a couple of them.

This should numb it all. Take it all away. I sit down on the couch and chain smoke cigarettes for what seems like forever. My body is practically melting into the couch and my face is slack. My skin is fuzzy and my heart rate feels slow and lazy. I can breathe. The sheer calmness of it is euphoric.

I hear the knob on the door turn and my heart skips a beat in my chest. He came back.

I sit up straight and watch him walk through the door. I take in every inch of him, committing every bit to memory. His eyes take in the destruction I wreaked, jumping from place to place. Everywhere but me.

Look at me. I want to yell and scream. Anything to have his attention on me again.

He lets out a deep breath he must’ve been holding and kicks his shoes off. The silence in the room is deafening as he approaches me, still not meeting my gaze. He crawls into my lap and hugs me, burying his face in my neck. I cup the back of his head with my hand, squeezing him so tightly, it’s probably painful.

He doesn’t say a word, just breathes me in. And as I stare at the white wall in front of us, my eyes become blurry and they burn. When I finally blink the burn away, tears stream down my face.

I remember the last time I cried when I was ten years old. My dad was away for work, and Dina came home late at night that day. I was sitting on the couch, watching cartoons as she stumbled over to me. I can still smell the pungent odor of liquor and cigarettes and that distinct smell she had. She snatched the remote from my hand and turned off the TV.

“You don’t deserve to watch TV. You don’t deserve to sleep in a bed either.” Her slurred words hit me like a thousand nails in the heart. “Get on the floor and go to sleep. No pillows or blankets either. Yeah, that’s right. Curl up and sleep on the floor like the dirt that you are.” I did exactly what she said, afraid she may hurt me. She was unpredictable and aggressive when sober, but even worse when drunk.

“I should just kick you out of the house. Maybe then you’d finally fuck off and die in a ditch somewhere. I hope you do.” She grabbed my arm, lifted me from the floor, and pulled me to the front door. She pushed me out and I could hear the lock click. I sat there on the porch all night, waiting for my dad to come home. When he arrived the next morning, I told him what happened. He flew into the house, ran up the stairs, and all I could hear was yelling and loud crashing noises. That’s not when I cried, though. No. I cried later that night when I realized nothing was going to change. That’s when it clicked in my adolescent brain—he would stay with her. He didn’t love me at all.

Ben inhales, like he wants to say something. I squeeze him harder, to let him know I’m listening.

“I love you,” he murmurs directly into my neck. And my eyes burn like I’m staring directly into the sun. The tears keep falling and falling; they won’t stop. A strangled noise leaves my chest.

“I’m sorry.” How many times will I say those words before he finally gives up for good? “I love you, baby. So fucking much. Don’t leave me ever.”

“I won’t.” His reply comes quick and with a finality that shakes me to my core.

22

Ben

Bittersweet.

That’s the way it’s been. At first, I was pleasantly surprised when he started going to bed with me and actually sleeping. I thought to myself—maybe he’s slowed down the cocaine use.

To me, that’d be better than nothing since I don’t expect him to quit it altogether. Addicts never do. They always replace it with some other substance, whether it’s legal like coffee or cigarettes, or not.

I saw it with my own eyes. The white, rectangular bars with the word ‘Xanax’ stamped into them. He passed out on the bed as soon as we got home in a deep sleep. So, like the good boyfriend I am, I grabbed his phone to plug it into the charger, but the cord was stuck in the drawer on his nightstand. When I opened it, there they were.

My heart plummeted into my stomach. I know about Xanax, my mom loves them. She turns into a sloppy fucking mess and blacks out, always ending up in a violent or compromising situation.

I’ve accepted the fact that I love him. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. It feels like he’s woven inside of me. I look at him and feel like I’m standing on the edge of the world. I’d fall for him. So this hurts, like a knife twisting in my chest. Usually, it’s my own mother or father holding it, but now it’s him.

Damon’s away right now. He didn’t tell me where he went, just shoved his keys and wallet in the pocket of my favorite black sweatpants he wears and left in a hurry. He could be anywhere. He could be too barred out and get into a car crash; he could pass out on someone’s couch and even get robbed. Now, all I can do is sit here and worry about him.

His behavior has been like this lately—very sporadic.

Last Monday at therapy, I told Sam everything is going so perfectly with him. I hate lying to her. I’ve always been transparent with her about my life, because I know it’s the only way she can help me. But ever since Damon waltzed into my life, I’ve had to hide things from people to cover for him.

I didn’t tell her about how I accepted his offer to move in because it doesn’t really change anything about the situation I’m in. I want to feel comfortable and trust that things will work out, but he’s so quick to risk everything. It’s like he doesn’t care at all, but I know that’s not true. It can’t be. Not when he holds me so tightly at night and whispers into my hair about how much he loves me and needs me. How he spent hours begging me not to leave him after he fucked up my birthday.

The weight of it all is crushing me. I head into the kitchen and grab the biggest cup I can find and fill it mostly with vodka and a splash of orange juice. Yeah. This should do the trick.

By the time Damon gets home, I’m lying on the floor, staring at the TV. There’s nothing playing on it, though. And tears are streaming down my face, seemingly of their own accord, because I can’t pinpoint what fucked up thing in my life is making me cry this time.

I drank so much that my face feels warm and fuzzy and numb, but when Damon crouches down next to me and cups my cheek with his rough palm, I feel it. Fuck, do I feel it.

“Come on. Get up, baby.” I hear his voice, the low timbre I love so much, but I don’t move. I don’t want to leave the comfort the floor is offering me.

His arms push underneath me and suddenly I’m being lifted into the air, cradled like a baby. The tears won’t stop falling, but he shushes me and kisses my face as he carries me to our bedroom.

As I sink into what feels like a cloud but is actually a mattress, I feel his arms wrap around me as he pulls me closer.

“Where were you?” I hear my own voice, but it sounds distant.

“Had to handle something,” he says. “I love you. Everything’s fine, go to sleep.”

23

Damon

I was fired from my shitty, dead-end job today. During my lunch break, I went out and sat in my car, as usual. But, I took a couple Xanax. I knew it was a dumb idea, but I feel the weight of Ben’s pain on my chest. It’s always there. These past couple of weeks, he’s stopped going to school most days. When I try to wake him up, he refuses. Nothing will get him out of bed. When I come home from work, he’s wasted off his ass. He ran through all of my vodka last week, and he somehow got more. He’s either overly affectionate or he won’t even meet my eyes. He hasn’t gone to see his therapist either, two missed appointments. He said, “What’s the point? I’m just lying to her, anyway.”

It’s because of me. He hasn’t said anything to me, but I know it’s the truth. I’m ruining him, but I won’t let him go. I’ll get better, be better for him.

It’s a battle that I’m losing, because I’m fucking weak. And when I looked at the white pill before swallowing it, I didn’t feel bad. I was ready to not feel at all. My coworker found me nodded out in my car because I never came back in to start my shift. It was mortifying, but I knew I should feel worse than I did. If anything, it was a weight lifted off my back.

But I can’t tell Ben, because he’s going to ask why. So, I’ve been acting like I got cut down to working part-time, and instead of going to work, I go to Jazz’s house, which is where I’m at right now.

“You look like a fucking ghost,” he says, looking visibly mad. “I’m getting sick of seeing you like this.”

“I’m fine. Hot as ever,” I say, the same recycled words.

“It’s not a fucking joke dumbass. You’re going to lose him, you know that, right? When he finds out you’ve been lying to him, he’s gonna give up on you.”

“He won’t,” I say the words with confidence I don’t actually feel. I can’t let myself think like that, though.

“I love you, Dame. I really do, and you know that. So when I say this, I mean it. You need to get help. You’re in denial and before you know it, it’ll be too late.” His mouth is set in a hard line and his eyes look glassy. “Too many people care about you for you to go on like this.”

The words register in my brain, and I know logically he has good intentions, but they only serve to piss me off. I snatch up my shit and leave. I don’t want to hear that line of bullshit from him.

When I pull into my parking spot in front of my house, I take a moment to finally breathe.

How can I make this right?

How can I fucking fix this?

My head feels like it might catch on fire if I don’t stop. I’ve been careless and cruel, fucking over the only people who matter. I need to stop, I have to.

I slam my car door shut and head into the house. Ben seems lucid today, which makes me feel slightly better about it all. Seeing him, sitting on my couch—our couch, smoking a joint, is all I really need. He’s still here.

All of the shit swirling in my head halts as I stalk over to him. I take the joint from his hand and stub it out in the ashtray. Immediately, I kiss him, and he melts in my hands. Pliant and needy. I lick into his mouth and pull his lip with my teeth, hoping he can feel the fucking rapture that is my love for him.

I pull his shirt off and hold his wrists together with it, suspending them above his head, running my palm down his arm, through the hair in his arm pit, and down his ribs.

He doesn’t say any words, only mewls and whimpers. I rip the shirt from his arms, and he leaves them there above his head, gripping the back of the couch.

I drop to my knees and grab his chin, forcing him to look at me. I let my eyes convey all the things I can’t say.

I take my time lavishing his nipple with my tongue and trailing my mouth down the toned planes of his stomach. His hips lift up to meet my mouth, so I grip them firmly to keep him still. I pull his sweats down his legs and bury my face into his groin, inhaling him. His smell is one I’ve come to love so much. I crave it. His dick is radiating heat into my palm.

I wrap my lips around the glistening head, sucking him into the back of my throat, and he gasps loudly. I take my time, letting my tongue wrap around him and groaning since he tastes so fucking good.

“I’m gonna come,” he hisses. “Want to come on your dick.” I could’ve sucked him all night, but I stop. “Wanna see you,” he begs, his voice sounding husky and low.

I waste no time taking off my clothes. He lays back on the couch, leaving his legs spread wide for me. He knows I love to see all of him. I lean in and kiss his hole because I can’t resist it. A throaty moan escapes from his mouth. I give it one last lick before grabbing the lube from the drawer in the coffee table. I coat my hand and shove two fingers into him. I watch his hole wrap around them as I push them in and out, and stroke my dick at the same pace.

Sweat is dripping from my forehead and my body is on fire, with my need for him. I pull my fingers out and quickly replace them with my dick. The moment the head pops in, he sucks me in farther. I lean down over him, caging him in with my arms. I want him to be wrapped up in me, like I am with him. His gaze never leaves mine as I thrust into him over and over again, his heels digging into my back and urging me deeper.

I press my forehead into his and inhale every breath he huffs out. “I love you. I love you. I need you so much. You’re mine forever.” The words keep tumbling from my mouth. Promises. Guarantees. Because I’m terrified.

“You need to know this. Please tell me that you know. Please,” I beg him. God, he makes me so fucking weak. I might as well be on my knees begging him. I would. I would do that for him—kneel at his feet until the end of time.

His fingers dig into my face painfully, and I need it. I need him to inflict this on me. “Of course, baby,” he says. “Of course. I know. I love you, too.”

I bury my face into his neck and listen to his reassuring words on repeat in my head as I thrust into him with abandon. I clench my teeth and come deep inside of him, painting his insides with me. I grip his dick as the waves of my own orgasm crash over me, until I feel him shoot all over my hand.

After what seems like several earth-shattering minutes, I peel my sweaty body from his and sit up, pulling his feet onto my lap. I give myself a few more moments to luxuriate in our post-orgasmic bliss before broaching the subject.

“Things haven’t been so good for either of us lately. I know I’m fucking up, and I don’t want to drag you under with me.” He’s giving me his full attention, so I continue, “You know I’m not good at this shit. Words. I’m going to get better… do better.”

“How?” he asks.

“No more coke. I’ll stop. I haven’t done it in a couple days, and it hasn’t been so bad.” Which is a lie. Every time I’ve thought about it—which has been a lot, I just pop a—

“What about the Xanax?” he cuts in, surprising me. I didn’t know he knew about that. Fuck. “I saw them in your drawer, Damon. Don’t try to lie to me about it.”

I nod my head. Fuck me. I was not expecting this, I’m not prepared to quit them yet. They’re helping me.

“They help me,” I respond.

“How? How do they help you? By making you numb to the world? That’s not helping. You’ll never be truly happy unless you experience sadness and whatever else is fucking with your head. You have to deal with the tough shit, to appreciate the good shit.” His voice raises more and more.

“I know that. Fuck. I know, okay,” I huff, digging my palms into my eyes. “I’ll stop, man. I’m done. Go, take them from my drawer and flush them. It’s not worth losing you.” I look him in the eyes. “And these past couple of weeks, I feel like I’ve watched you disappear before my own eyes. I can’t fucking bear it.”

Within those bright blue eyes, I can tell he doesn’t believe me. And fuck, he might be right in that, but I’m going to try.

24

Ben

It’s nearly the end of the school day, and I can’t wait to leave this concrete prison. Today’s an especially good day though, because I made plans to go hang with the dudes at the park like old times. It feels like it’s been forever since I hung out with my friends. I’ve been so wrapped up in Damon.

What started out as the highest moments of my life have plummeted so low, contorting into a nightmare. I thought I knew what it was like to live a nightmare, but this has surpassed any notion I had. What is it about dealing with an addict that fucking kills you like this? Like you’re dying right there with them.

By the time I arrive at the park, everyone's already there. When I take a seat next to Teddy and wrap my arms around him, I feel like myself again.

“Long time no see,” Liam says, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Finally removed yourself from Damon’s ass I see… or is it the other way around?” He tilts his head and acts like he’s seriously considering the question like the asshole that he is.

“Ha ha ha,” I say dryly. I pull out a joint from my pocket.

“Oh. So he gives you weed too, huh,” he continues.

I shoot him a narrow-eyed glare. “Oh, whatever. You give your girlfriends weed, I’ve seen you.”

“Touché.” He hedges.

I finally meet Ant’s gaze. I haven’t spoken to him since the party, when he looked at me like I was making the biggest mistake of my life. His face is carefully blank as I pass him the joint.

“So, how’s he been treating you?” he asks, voice carefully even, like everything else about him.

“Things are better. They were bad, but they’re better now.” He narrows his eyes at me.

“Try again, man. Don’t hold out on me.”

I sigh. I should’ve known that wouldn’t work. I didn’t come here to talk about him, I came here for the exact opposite.

“He’s got problems, alright? Cocaine and Xanax problems to be exact.” I hear Teddy’s quick inhale next to me.

“I fuckin’ knew it. That man looks geeked every time I see him,” Liam says. “Didn’t take him for a Xan man, though.”

“He does so much blow that he can’t come down easily anymore, so he eats some benzodiazepines to come down. That’s what you’re saying?” Ant muses.

I never thought about it like that, but yeah. That makes perfect sense. I nod my head at him. “Pretty much,” I say. “But we talked about it the other night and supposedly he’s going to quit.”

“Sounds like a load of shit if you ask me,” Liam grumbles, and Teddy leans across the table and punches him in the shoulder.

“Would you quit being such a dick for once?” he exclaims. My eyes are probably bulging from my head as my gaze flicks back and forth between them.

Ant clears his throat, somewhat awkwardly. “He’s not too far from the truth. I know you want to give him the chance, but you should keep your guard up. I saw him at your birthday party—the whole thing.” His face grows serious. “He was unhinged. Fucking psychotic, to be honest with you. And I’ve seen people do things they seriously regret while they’re high on Xan.”

“I know, I know. I’m just giving him the benefit of the doubt,” I say, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. “I’m not ready to do anything else but that.”

He gives me a knowing look. It’s probably obvious to him by now how completely in fucking love I am. He’s my best friend after all.

The conversation morphs into small talk about their classes and other students I once knew.

“You wanna go to the bonfire this weekend? It’s for the full moon,” Teddy asks me.

Such a fucking hippie. I roll my eyes but agree, anyway.

Eventually, Damon comes to pick me up from the park, even though I told him I’d walk home.

When I open the passenger side door, the scent of him slams into me and my eyes nearly roll into the back of my head. Groaning, I lean over and kiss him. “You smell so fucking good, all the time. Makes me want to jump you right here at the park.” I laugh.

“Glad you’re in a good mood,” he says with the cute little smile he does.

“I am. Teddy invited me to the full moon bonfire this weekend, at the beach.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’m down.” He laces our fingers together and kisses my knuckles. I look at him closely. I feel like I constantly need to inspect him to gauge whether he’s high or not. The dark circles are still under his eyes, but they’re not bloodshot. He looks exhausted, and I bet he is.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” I say, barely a whisper, and his eyes light up like I’ve never seen before. That’s the type of pure happiness I wish I could see in him always.

Another Saturday, another party. That’s just the way it goes around here. Miss one party and it feels like you’re out of the loop, and I’ve missed quite a few since moving into Damon’s house. This is a full moon bonfire, but I’m almost certain that’s just another excuse for the spiritual type to get wasted on the beach.

I’m not complaining, though. I can already picture him and I laying on the beach or sneaking into the mangroves for a good time under the cover of the night.

He seems to be in a decent mood tonight, but it’s hard to tell. Since he got clean, he’s been a lot more on edge. Snappy and short-tempered. I’ve noticed he just smokes exponentially more weed and cigarettes, and that’s fine by me. I’d take pot-head over pill-head any day. But tonight, he seems chill enough. He’s shot me a few of his signature smirks, and he won’t stop touching me. An ass grab here, a thigh squeeze there.

We listen to Korn during the entire ride to the beach. My favorite band. My favorite person. Tonight has to be a good one.

He parks the car parallel on the road, and I can’t understand why it’s such a turn-on—how he puts his hand on my seat and cranes his neck back while gripping the steering wheel. Love that shit. He could tell, too, because when he put the car in park, he gave me the look and said, “You better stop.”

He throws his arm over my shoulder to pull me comfortably into his side as we walk up the sandy steps to the beach. I can already hear the loud sounds of drunk people ahead and it’s like music to my ears. The huge fire comes into view and excitement bubbles up in my chest.

It’s at least eighty degrees tonight, and yet here we are having a fucking bonfire. Whose idea was this?

“You showed up, man!” I hear Teddy’s voice as he approaches us. His big curly hair is glowing around the edges from the fire, making him look like an angel. So fitting for him.

“What’s up, man?” he says, slapping Damon’s shoulder. He’s much shorter than him so he has to get up on his toes to do it. He’s bouncy tonight, and I’d be willing to bet he’s on Molly again. I laugh to myself affectionately. I was kind of nervous he’d give Damon a hard time after all that shit, but I should have known he wouldn’t. He’s the easiest going out of all of us.

He leads us over to a case of beer in the sand. It’s probably warm, I think to myself as I reach in to grab one, and yup. Definitely warm. Whatever. I twist the cap and chug it down in one go. I need to get my buzz going as fast as possible to handle the party atmosphere. I always have a bundle of nerves in my stomach unless I drink.

Damon lifts his brows in surprise. “What? You should expect this by now,” I tease with a laugh.

A couple hours later and countless beers in, someone decides we all need to go swimming. It sounds like a fucking spectacular idea, so I ditch my shirt and jeans as soon as I see everyone running to the waters’ edge.

“I don’t fucking think so,” Damon protests, looking at the outline of my dick through my briefs.

“Well, you better come with me then!” I yell over my shoulder as I run into the water. I dive right in, not caring how cold the water is. The chill of the water makes my overheated skin tingle. When I surface, I see Damon trudging through the water toward me. The water’s shallow enough here for me to stand up. He wraps his arms around me from behind before trailing them down my torso to my briefs. They’re glued to me like a second skin now, so the sensation of his hand cupping my half hard dick through the wet material sends fire dancing across my skin. I groan and let my head fall back on his shoulder.

“Mine,” he whispers into my ear. “All of this”—he punctuates with a squeeze—“belongs to me.” My eyes roll into the back of my head. This is all I’ve ever wanted.

I slip from his arms and lean back, floating on the surface of the water. “Stare at the full moon with me,” I tell him.

“Why?” He laughs.

“Just do it.” And he does. We spend a while floating in the salty water, just looking at the moon. It’s so huge tonight, it looks like it’s close enough to reach out and grab. I feel like the tiniest ant, and that does a good job of making all of my worries fade away. I hope Damon can feel it too—the insignificance of it all.

25

Ben

“You really should start going back to therapy,” Damon says. He sounds genuinely concerned. “You told me you love seeing Sam.”

“I do, but it’s been so long, I don’t know how to pick up where we left off,” I say while playing with the drawstring on his sweatpants. He’s lying on his back, and I’m comfortably nestled between his monumental thighs.

“Do you want me to take you to your dad's house to do it tomorrow?”

“No. It’s too last-minute. I’ll text her this week to plan for next Monday. Then we can get back on schedule.”

“Whatever works. Come here,” he demands, spreading his arms wide. Once I’m situated with my head on his shoulder, I exhale a contented sigh.

I mess with the barbell in his nipple. “I don’t know how we got here. I think back on it all and it’s like a whirlwind. It all happened so fast.”

He sifts his hand through my hair. “I know, but it feels right, doesn’t it?” He pauses. “I knew when we stood on my balcony for the first time that night. Your eyes-—they tell the same story mine do. I knew I wouldn’t be able to move on from that moment.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, propping myself up on one arm to look at him. His brows are set in a hard line like he’s contemplating his next words carefully.

“I saw a world of dangerously crafted decisions. The same pain. The same longing. You fucking swallowed me whole.”

“You affect me like that, too,” I say. And by that, I mean that the dangerous decisions I see in his eyes are dangerous because they have the ability to ruin me. I’ve spent most of my life just trying to make it to one more day, a precarious war in my head—one I was barely winning. But then he forced his way in and flayed me open. I trusted him with all of my weaknesses, even though he’s no better than me. He’s barely hanging on.

I’m officially halfway done with recovering my credits, which means I’ll actually be able to graduate. At this rate, I’ll be finished before the school year is even over. When Damon dropped me off at school this morning, I had every intention of going. But then I decided, why not take a day off. So, I turned around and started the thirty-minute trek to the beach. Now that I’m here, and there’s no other place I’d rather be.

A lot of native Floridians take the beach life for granted, but the novelty has never worn off for me. I toe off my shoes and socks, immediately plunging my feet into the warm sand. I lose my shirt and lean back, sprawling my whole body on it. My hair will be filled with sand by the time I leave, but that’s okay with me.

I spend a couple hours like that—basking in the sun, and absorbing all the energy and good vibes it has to give. By the time I’m finished, my skin feels tight. I probably got a decent tan from that small amount of time.

I don’t bother putting my shirt on before leaving. It’s not uncommon to see shirtless people around here. It comes with the beach lifestyle. I pull out my phone to let Damon know I’m on my way home so he doesn’t need to pick me up, but then I hear a laugh just outside of the mangroves lining the beach. Not just any laugh, I know that laugh. I get a little closer and sure enough, I see Damon’s car parked a few spaces down.

I hear another voice that sounds like Jasper’s. I get a little bit closer. They’re smoking a blunt, which is fine. I don’t care if he hangs out with his friends, but he had his uniform on this morning and acted like he was going to work.

I turn around and head back to walk to a different exit, one where he won’t see me leave. The long journey home only serves to let my thoughts run wild, considering every possibility. Maybe he got off early. Maybe he thought he was scheduled today, but he really wasn’t. No. He would’ve texted me if that were the case. We text throughout the day, mainly small talk, but that surely would have come up.

Inevitably, my thoughts take a darker turn. Is he cheating on me with Jazz? Is he still doing drugs? Did he ever have a job at Subway to begin with? I shake my head. Of course he did. How else would he have gotten the employee shirt and name tag?

By the time I get home, I’m drenched in sweat and my skin is sticky with sand. I trudge up the steps, let myself in and immediately take a shower. I decide that when he gets home, I’ll tell him about my self-care beach day, and gauge his face for a reaction. It probably won’t reveal much, since he's such a stoic, straight-faced bastard.

Will I ever get to stop fucking worrying about his intentions? Picking apart every word that comes from his mouth, deciphering if it’s fact or fiction. It’s exhausting. I just want to have absolute faith in him. I want to put it in his hands and have him hold it carefully, because he can’t help but treasure it.

A fucking fantasy.

I’m curled up on the couch when I hear his key turn in the lock. He comes in and does his usual routine of emptying his pockets at the table and stripping his uniform on the way to the room. On his way into the shower, he tells me, “Gonna get a quick shower, then we’ll order some food. Okay, baby?” The fucking sweetest liar I’ve ever known. I would’ve never questioned it had I not seen him with my own eyes. Maybe I’m just fucking naïve.

The entire time he’s in the shower, I get angrier and angrier, my fists clenching and unclenching. When he’s done, he traipses over to me with a towel wrapped around his waist and grabs my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

I paste a smile on my face and assure him I’m fine. Then to further prove my point, I busy myself with rolling a joint for him—something that usually gives me great joy to do for him after a long day at work. And that makes me feel even more fucking stupid.

He eventually asks why I skipped school today, and I give him the honest story, from beginning to end, only leaving out the fact that I spotted him at the beach.

He didn’t even flinch, not a muscle twitch, or anything. And that’s a sobering thought, to know that he can lie so easily. He even tells me how proud of me he is of my progress at school, and how he’s glad I got to have some nice alone time today.

His lie of omission is so solid, it makes me seriously uneasy.

When he pulls me closer to him, for the first time, I feel the urge to pull away.

26

Damon

All fucking week, Ben has been acting weird. Whenever I ask him about it, he acts like nothing’s wrong. But it’s fucking obvious. He looks at me differently. My baby wears his heart on his sleeve. Whatever he’s feeling will shine right through his eyes.

He’s doing a shitty job at hiding something from me, and I don’t know what it could possibly be. I’ve made my attempts at healthy communication with him. Something that has always been a foreign concept to me, but I gave it a shot just this one time for him, and to no avail.

All fucking week, it’s been building up inside of me. It started out as curiosity, but if it was something minor, he would’ve told me by now. Then it morphed into annoyance, because if he wants to hide shit from me, then why the fuck am I going to play nice with him? Now it’s full-fledged anger because I know I’m a hypocrite. I can’t be pissed at him for keeping shit from me when I still haven’t told him I got fired from my job. But that’s going to change tonight.

I’m having some people over, we’re going to get fucked up, and then I’ll broach the subject with him. It could end up being a disaster, or the influence of drugs and alcohol could make it go over more smoothly.

Either way, it’s been eating at my consciousness ever since. Such a simple thing. I should have fucking told him so long ago, and now it might come back to bite me in the ass.

I walk into the living room and see him typing rapidly on his phone. “I’m having a little get-together here later tonight,” I tell him.

He hits send on something and barely glances my way. “Cool. I’m gonna go to Ant’s house and just chill for the night. It’s been a while since I hung out with him, one-on-one.”

“Why don’t you just invite him over?” I ask, feeling irritated.

“Nah. I want to be alone,” he says and his words settle like a weight in my stomach. What does he even mean by that? Does he want some fucking space? I’m thoroughly confused and pissed off, but by the time I manage to turn my inferno of thoughts to words, he’s out the front door.

I turn around and ram my fist into the wall and immediately regret it because it didn’t fix anything at all.

I caved. I had one of the guys bring some blow and some Xanax. Even as I’m putting the white powder up my nose, I know it’s the worst fucking decision I could have made tonight. But I needed it. Something. Anything to numb this rage. It’s not just anger I feel, though, as I sit here on my couch surrounded by people who are having a good time. It’s fear.

He’s never been this distant with me, never this cold. He didn’t even kiss me before he left. Maybe I’ve built up this idea in my head that he’ll stick around forever—taking whatever I dish his way. Maybe I started to slip up, letting my carelessness take the wheel and speed off.

Seems to be the likeliest answer. I fucking knew I wasn’t good for him, even my best hasn’t been enough. It’s never been enough for anyone—not good enough for my step-mom to love me, not good enough for my dad to leave her, not even good enough for my mom to stick around.

I reach into my pocket and pull out two white pills, and wash them down my throat with vodka.

Soon enough, it doesn’t matter. None of it. I’m comfortably numb, even as my heart throbs deep within my chest. It’s calling for Ben. It wants him back, right here next to me.

27

Ben

Ant really helped me to put things into perspective tonight. He pointed out that in me not saying anything, I’m lying too. He also said I’m just assuming the worst of Damon and letting it fester inside of me.

He’s right, I’m letting something I don’t even know to be true consume me from the inside out. I’m sure it’s nothing crazy.

With that in mind, I head back home. We had a few beers tonight and smoked a lot of weed, so my body is vibrating with energy and my vision is a little soft around the edges. My altered state of mind makes the short walk home seem much shorter and before I know it, I’m standing outside the door. I can hear the thrum of heavy metal music and smell all of the weed smoke already.

I brace myself, opening the door and stepping in with as much confidence as I can muster. Thick smoke lingers in the air and the blue LED lights filter through it, highlighting the clouds.

The couches are loaded down with people, and upon further inspection, so is the kitchen and dining room. When my eyes land on the coffee table, my heart stutters in my chest. It’s laden with beer bottles and bongs and ashtrays, but right in the center, there’s a pile of white powder. Cocaine.

My whole body starts shaking, and by the time Damon breaks from his dazed state to look at me, I turn around and leave the house, slamming the door behind me. I don’t need anyone to see me break. I need to get far, far away from here. My feet pound the steps quickly, but not as quick as my racing heart. I hear the door open and suddenly Damon’s right behind me.

He grips my shoulder, yanking me back around. I try to pull away and keep going, but his grip is firm.

“Just leave me alone. Don’t touch me,” I say, trying to keep my shaky voice even.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he sneers.

“Away from you. For good, this time.” His eyes are completely blown and his jaw is slack. He can barely even keep his eyes open. So he’s on bars too.

My mouth pulls back in disgust. “One small fucking problem in your life and you completely relapse.”

“So what? What’s your fucking point? Just come back inside and we’ll talk about it tomorrow, baby.”

I shake my head back and forth. “No. You’re a liar. I saw you at the beach the other day when you were supposed to be at work. It’s funny actually. I was gonna come home tonight and talk to you about it, let you give me your side of the story instead of jumping to conclusions. But this—I can’t handle this.”

His jaw ticks. Just one simple twitch that indicates he’s going to explode. He smirks. “So what you’re saying is you don’t want me like this? When I’m at my worst, you just want to give up.” He laughs, but it sounds maniacal. “I got fired from my job, and was scared to tell you because of how it happened. I was going to tell you soon. But it doesn’t even matter.”

His words feel like a blow to my gut. “I have done nothing but give you chances! I’ve never given up on you, but you can’t seem to make a simple change for me. I gave you every piece of me and you fucking wasted it. All because you can’t keep your nose clean.” I rear back from his grip. “I don’t deserve this, and you don’t deserve me.”

“What the fuck did you just say? You’re going to tell me what I deserve?” His eyes become distant, cold, like he’s reliving a memory.

I don’t even see it coming when he wraps his hand around my throat and shoves me against the concrete wall, knocking my head painfully against it. His grip tightens until he’s nearly crushing my windpipe.

“I fucking love you,” he roars, spittle flying. The baritone in his voice is enough to make my knees weak with fear. “Guess it’s not good enough for you. Guess I’m not fucking good enough for anyone. I never will be. I fucking told you this would happen!”

I can’t suck in breaths anymore. I grab at his hand, trying to remove it from my throat, but it won’t budge. I hear the door slam open at the same moment blackness starts to cloud my vision. Tears are streaming down my face. And in this moment, I want the blackness to just take me.

In a split second, Damon’s hand is ripped from my throat and Jasper’s fist collides with his jaw. I hear a splitting crack and the heavy sound of him knocking out cold on the ground.

My first instinct is to go check on him. I need to make sure he’s okay.

“Ben! Ben!” I hear my name being shouted over the ringing in my ears as I collapse to my knees. “Are you okay?” Jasper asks, grabbing my shoulders. “What the fuck happened?” His breaths come out in quick gusts and his voice is trembling.

I almost feel bad for him. I never expected Damon to do something like this, so I can’t even imagine how Jasper’s feeling right now. His best friend. My boyfriend.

The three words I never wanted to say again tumble from my mouth, “He was high.”

Jasper sits there on his knees, looking at me with this helpless look on his face. I wonder if he’s ever known an addict before, from the looks of it, I don’t think he has.

The tears keep falling, crashing around me, like every good thing in my life.

He snaps out of his dismay and stands up. “I need to go kick everyone out.”

I peer up at him through burning eyes. “Will you take me home?”

He takes another shaky breath. “Yeah. I guess so.”

With one last look at Damon, I rush back upstairs and pack all of my belongings. All of the memories we’ve made here flit in front of my eyes, like a distant memory. Like it never happened. Maybe if I can convince myself of that, then it won’t hurt so much. Even as the thought crosses my mind, I immediately reject it. I already feel like I’m dying.

28

Damon

I wake up on the couch. My brain is foggy and fuck—why does my face hurt so bad. I open and close my mouth, testing the level of pain. I try to sit up and wince at the soreness radiating through my body; it feels like I got hit by a truck.

What the fuck happened last night?

When I peel my eyes open, I see trash and beer bottles strewn everywhere. I remember having a small get-together and doing some drugs, but my memory stops there. My brain pounds against my skull the more I think about it.

I drag myself to the bedroom, holding onto the wall as I walk. A quick look at the bed tells me Ben must’ve spent the night at Ant’s last night. I walk further into the room and see the closet is open, but his shitty suitcase is no longer there.

I race to the dresser and find his drawers empty. Oh no. I feel my chest caving in. What did I do? I feel my pockets for my phone, and luckily, it’s in there. I pull it out and see a fuck-ton of missed calls and texts from Jasper and some other irrelevant people. But none from Ben. I try calling him, but it won’t even go through. I lose track of how many times I attempt to call him before finally giving up.

I call Jazz, and he picks up on the first ring. “What. Fucking. Happened. Last night.” My voice comes out slow and deadly.

“You fucked up, Dame. I don’t think you can make this one right,” he tells me everything he saw and all the blood drains from my face. “No, no, no, no, no.” I rake my hands across my face and pull on my hair.

I don’t want to hear anymore. I don’t want to believe the words he’s saying. It has to be a lie, I would never hurt him like that.

I grab my keys and speed all the way to Ben’s house. I need to see him, look at his beautiful face. Make sure he’s okay. When I whip my car down his driveway, my tires screech as I abruptly stop behind a green truck.

My gaze lingers on the truck for a moment before I extract myself from the car and jog up to his front door. My fist meets his door in rapid succession. Eventually, the door is wrenched open and a tall man, who must be his dad, crowds the doorway. Instead of losing my shit on him for what he’s done to Ben, I try to compose myself. “I need to talk to Ben,” I say, and add, “please.”

“Your name Damon?” His voice comes out sounding gruff. His arms crossed in front of his chest make him seem like he’s not one to be fucked with.

“Yes, sir.”

“In that case. No. And a word of advice—get in your car and leave, before I put my hands on you like you did to my son.” He slams the door in my face. I stand there for a moment, debating whether I should try again, or walk around and try to open his bedroom window.

In the end, I get in my car and leave. Ridiculous thoughts swarm in my head. They won’t shut the fuck up, and before I know it I’m outside of Avalon’s house.

He looks at me with disappointment written all over his face, but he still sells me the fucking drugs. As usual. A dealer doesn’t have a heart.

I get home and try to call Ben one last time. No answer. I grab a half-empty bottle of vodka from my coffee table and chug it until I’m gagging. Suddenly, I hear a notification on my phone.

Ben: I unblocked you just to send you this message, and I’m going to block you after I send it. You need help. Serious help. I’ve watched you change. What started out as a fun little habit transformed into a full-blown addiction, and the person I thought you were changed, too. Little by little. You were like a stranger last night, a monster. It’s like someone else was inhabiting your body. I love you with everything in me, but I can’t do this anymore. You’ve become everything I’ve always tried to run away from. Goodbye, for the last time.

It feels like my eyes are on fire, burning from the inside out. I swipe my hand across them, and feel the wetness coating my cheeks.

He’s right. I don’t even know myself anymore. I can’t live with the knowledge that I did this to him.

I yank the bag of Xanax from my pocket and swallow every last one of them, washing them down with vodka. I picture his big blue eyes and carved cheekbones. His dark pink lips stretched in a smile. All of his love for me shining from his pores. Hopefully, I don’t come back from this. Hope I sleep forever, as long as this is the sight I see for an eternity. Before I can finish the vodka, I pass out.

29

Ben

When Jasper dropped me off at my house, I was surprised to see my dad was there. Of all the days he could’ve been home, it had to be this one.

When I opened the door, the reality of what had been the last few months of my life hit me in full force, and I couldn’t control it. I laid on the couch in a fetal position and sobbed. When my dad rushed into the living room, I didn’t push him away. I needed him to tell me something, anything. Anything to make the pain go away.

He didn’t have anything to say, but he sat there next to me and placed a steadying hand on my back as I told him everything from start to finish. The whole truth. And it felt like a thousand bricks lifted from my chest. “It’s gonna be okay, son.”

When I eventually made my way to my bedroom, I opened my nightstand to see if there was any weed I might’ve left, but my eyes landed on my journal. The old composition book. Without a second thought, I cracked it open and began reading from the very first day at the park.

“He called me pretty boy, and for some reason, I wasn’t offended. I just couldn’t believe he thought I was worth looking at.”

“He’s hurting so badly from the loss of his grandmother, and probably something else. I doubt we’ll ever be close enough for me to find out”

“When he looks at me, he gets this crazed look in his eyes, like he wants to devour me whole. I’d let him. I think I’d let him do anything to me.”

“I tried coke for the first time. I don’t see what all the hype is about, but when Damon did it, his face softened in ecstasy. Like the look he gives me after I make him cum.. Then he turned into a monster and ripped my heart from my chest so carelessly. Why would he do that?”

“I forgave him, of course I did. I don’t want to let go.”

Sobs wracked my chest, but no tears welled in my eyes. I guess I’ve cried them all out. I fell asleep with the journal in my arms.

The next day I woke up to the sound of the front door slamming shut. I rubbed at my eyes, which felt swollen and crusty, and walked past my dad to the window just in time to see Damon get in his car and reverse from the driveway.

He always comes back for me.

I’ve been laying in my bed staring at the ceiling for hours, barely even moving. I sent him a text message a little while ago because I needed him to know that he should get help. No matter what happened between us, I want him to get better. My words have never been able to change him, but maybe this time will be different. Maybe this is his rock bottom.

All of the things we’ve been through play back through my head on repeat even when I try to stop them. It doesn’t help that my pillow still smells like him. I consider ripping the pillowcase off, but quickly decide against it. I want to smell him, even after everything.

This must be what heartbreak feels like. I never thought I’d find myself in love with someone. The pain of a broken heart is physical, mental, and spiritual, assaulting me from all angles. Was it even worth it?

My phone rings, an unsaved number pops on my screen. It’s probably Damon, calling me from someone else’s phone, so I ignore the call. A text comes through.

It’s Jazz. Call me back. It’s about Damon.

I bolt upright from the bed; a cold, foreboding sensation washing over me. My fingers shake as I tap my phone to call him back, and he answers on the first ring.

“Are you sitting down?” he asks. That’s never a good sign.

“Yeah. What’s going on?” I hesitantly ask.

“I found Damon at his apartment… he overdosed. An ambulance came and took him to the hospital.”

My ears start ringing and my entire body trembles. “I-is he o-okay?” I stutter.

“I don’t… I don’t know. I’ll call you back when I find out. He’ll be fine. He has to be.” He doesn’t sound so sure, though. When he hangs up the phone, a sob rips from my throat. Loud and guttural.

I gave myself a week to mourn the loss of him. He ended up surviving the overdose, but he’s gone now. Apparently to a rehab facility. Jazz said he could be in there for thirty days or ninety—it all depends.

A week hasn’t been enough time, not in the slightest, but I needed to go back to school. I can’t let all the work I’ve put in go to waste. I’ve pretty much ignored my phone, except to look at pictures we took together. Even just thinking about them sends a pang of longing in my gut. I need him back.

Whenever I leave school, my eyes subconsciously look for his car in the parking lot. I sometimes catch a whiff of his scent when I walk by someone, and it makes me miss him all over again.

I would’ve talked to him by now if he wasn’t in rehab, but I know now that there’s no way I could resist my pull to him. I’m simply not strong enough.

I’ve been going to school every day for a week, and avoiding the texts and calls from Ant, Liam, and Teddy, since it all went down. But today I have to talk about it because Sam’s coming over. I’m not ready to talk about it, but my dad seems to think it’ll help. He reminded me that Sam has a way of saying things that helps me to change how I look at a situation. I know it’s true, but it feels like it’ll take so much effort, and I feel drained of any energy I had. Depression will do that to you. The force that makes you keep living dwindles away until it’s completely diminished. By that point you’re useless.

Sam’s sitting across from me and by the look on her face, I can tell I’m an open book right now. She can see right through me.

So, I start from the top. I give her the rundown I gave my dad after it all happened. I tell her about all of the awful details and all of the amazing moments. Once I start talking, the words flow from me like a waterfall. Talking about it all makes it feel real. In some moments, it feels like it never happened, but it did. I had him, and I lost him.

By the time I’m done telling the story, our session is nearly over. Sam's eyes are glistening with unshed tears.

“Have you talked to your mom since her overdose?” she asks.

Her words catch me off guard. While gauging my reaction, she continues, “I only ask because I’d be willing to bet she has some helpful insight on the matters of addiction.”

My brows pull together. “Sure, she’s an addict, and so is he, but they’re not the same,” I say with emphasis on the not.

“You’re right. They aren’t. Your mother has caused you a lot of harm throughout her battle with addiction. Do you love her?”

“Of course. How could I not?”

“It seems like Damon has caused you a lot of pain during his battle with addiction, too. So, why can’t you still love him?”

I open and close my mouth a few times, struggling with what to say. She has a way of putting things into perspective for me; I don’t know how she does it.

“I’ll call her,” I say with a nod of my head. “Thank you… for everything. I’m sorry I stood you up for so many appointments.” I rub the back of my neck, feeling shameful.

“It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

And on that note, we close out the appointment, and I vow to be right here, waiting for her again next Monday.

For the first time in forever, I pick up my phone and dial my moms’ number, and surprisingly, she picks up.

“Hey, baby,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her soft voice.

Apparently, she’s renting the spare room at Mel’s apartment, which came as a surprise to me because I’ve never known her to actually pay to live anywhere. But I’m happy for her, regardless.

She thinks Damon is a “good boy" and that he just needs someone to love him. She agrees with me that this will probably be his rock bottom, further adding that whether we patch up or not, I should be there for him. Sometimes all a person needs to pull them from their lowest is the unconditional love they crave the most.

I hang up the phone, feeling exponentially more hopeful about it all. Whenever Damon gets out, I’ll be there for him. If nothing else, then as a friend.

30

Damon

Sixty days. No phone. No drugs or alcohol. And a whole lot of therapy.

When I first arrived at the treatment center, I was pissed. Absolutely consumed with rage, I was cruel to all of the staff and any other person who even looked at me. I felt like I didn’t belong here next to heroin addicts and crack heads. I thought to myself—there’s no way I’m like them.

I thought I was better than them all the way until I started participating in the meetings, and by participate, I mean actually listening to what everyone shared. Throughout their stories, I noticed bits and pieces I related to—things they went through, stuff they said, the people they affected.

As it turns out, an addict is an addict. Period. It took me entirely too long to come to that realization. If I wasn’t such a stubborn fucking Taurus, I might’ve been able to leave after thirty days.

The thing is—by the end of my stay, I wasn’t as excited to leave as I thought I’d be. Turns out, I need things like structure and therapy and to be surrounded by people with like-minded goals.

The only thing I need is to make things right with Ben. I’ve come to understand just how severe my actions have been for him, and for myself, and I need to rectify it. I want his forgiveness at least. The scariest part of my life right now is not my sobriety—no, I have faith in that—it's the likelihood of Ben not wanting anything to do with me.

All I can do is take it one day at a time. I took an Uber to get to my apartment; luckily, Jazz came by after all the shit went down and cleaned it up for me.

Sitting in my own place is kind of throwing me off. Everywhere I look, I see remnants of the past. The beautiful parts and the ugly ones too. It’s empty, though. I’m all alone here. I consider trying to rein in my impulsivity and relax for the night, then go see Ben tomorrow; but the more I think about it, the more it sounds like a load of bullshit.

I grab my keys and drive to his house. It’s late in the day and today’s Tuesday, so he should be home. When I got out of rehab, my first call was to Jazz, and I asked him about Ben. All he told me was: “He’s doing good.”

Ominous fucking answer. I scoff just thinking about it. When I arrive at his dad’s house—his house, I see his dad’s truck sitting there. Flashes of him threatening me replay through my head. The possibility of me getting a fist through my face is very real.

I walk to his front door and knock, calmly and evenly. After a while, it opens. And there he is.

My pretty boy.

My baby.

Not my anything. Not anymore.

His mouth gapes open as he takes me in. “D- Damon, I didn’t know y-you got out,” he stutters, stumbling over his words. It makes me want to squeeze him to my chest.

“Do you want to come with me? I feel like we need to talk, there’s some things I need to tell you,” I ask him. Sincerity drips from my words. If he tells me no, that’s fine. I’ll come back tomorrow, and the next day. However long it might take.

“Where do you want to go?” His voice is barely above a whisper as he looks at me with wide eyes.

“The beach. We can just sit and talk.”

He stares at me for a moment longer, but then he nods his head. “Okay. Yeah, let me go get ready.”

“I’ll be in the car.”

When I sit down in the driver’s seat, I realize this is the perfect opportunity for him to flake. He doesn’t have to come back outside and it might even be easier than telling me no to my face.

The anxiety swirls in my gut until the moment I see his front door open and he steps out. He’s so fucking perfect. His thick, wavy hair, his black cut-off jeans, the thick rings on his fingers.

Jesus fucking Christ, how did I let him slip away from me.

He sits in the passenger seat and immediately puts his seatbelt on. He starts to kick off his shoes like he used to, but thinks better of it and leaves them on.

“You can take them off if you want,” I tell him.

“No. No, it’s okay. The beach is right around the corner, anyway.”

I feel the instinct to reach over and place my hand on his leg or rest my arm on the back of his seat to play with his hair, but I keep my hands to myself. And it fucking hurts. By the time we get to the beach, I feel like I could cry. The tears are lingering in my eyes, awaiting their descent. I discreetly wipe at my eyes and exit the car.

That’s one change in myself I’ve noticed—I actually let myself feel emotions, before, I thought my body blocked that shit out.

Together, we walk up the steps to the beach, luckily it’s not the same one Ben caught me at. That might make the atmosphere more tense than it already is. We wordlessly agree on a spot and plant our asses in the sand. We stare at the waves rolling in for a while, and surprisingly Ben speaks first.

“I’ve missed you,” he says. The words are so simple, yet they reach a distant corner in my heart. I’ve been away long enough; I figured there was a chance he didn’t think of me anymore. I guess I wouldn’t blame him after everything I did.

“Yeah. I missed you too ba-Ben.” Fuck.

“It’s lucky that Jasper found you in time. You could’ve died…” he barely says the last word out loud.

I nod my head. “I wanted to. I couldn’t live with what I did to you.” His eyes widen, maybe he thought the overdose was accidental. “I still can’t handle it, but I don’t want to die anymore. I want to make it right. Im going to make it right.”

“It’s okay. I’ve had a lot of time to think about everything. I’ve been keeping to myself, only going to school and occasionally to see the boys. I haven’t been partying or getting wasted. I forgave you a while ago, I just couldn’t tell you. I know you’d never do something like that to me if you were sober, so I won’t hold it against you forever. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Now it’s my turn to be surprised. I clear my throat. “Well, I’ve had a lot of time to think too.” I laugh dryly at the irony of the situation. “And most of my thoughts revolved around you. I wanted to get sober for myself, so I could be better for you. We have a lot of catching up to do and a lot of ground to cover.

“I spent so much time in there thinking about all of the shit I dragged you through because I was so selfish and blind to what was in front of me. I have an addictive personality and the drugs became more important to me than anything else. But, I’m so far past that now. I have no interest in partying or anything like that.

“You were so perfect and patient with me. You forgave me when I didn’t deserve it. And you saw through the bullshit facade I was using to hide from real responsibility. I was weak. In school, I always had my place where I fit in. I was a basketball player, I had all of these friends. I was addicted to being the best baller I could be. Then, when I graduated, I was supposed to go to college, but my grandma died, so I put off college, eventually losing my way.

“I didn’t know where I fit in anymore. Didn’t know who I was supposed to be. Drugs and partying seemed like the easiest choice. It took over my life without me even realizing.”

He leans over and puts his head on my shoulder, and my heart skips a beat in my chest. “I know. I watched you slowly change; it was subtle. I don’t hate you or blame you, Damon. I’m just proud of you—for getting help and growing. So many people don’t win their battle with addiction, but you have.” We stay like that for a while—him resting his head on my shoulder and me sitting stiffly to avoid jostling him, afraid to touch him.

I summon all of the courage I can. “What I really want to know is…” I take a steadying breath. “Will you give me another chance? Will you give us a chance? A real one this time.” I hold my breath, awaiting his response.

Eventually, I hear his quick inhale of breath. “Yeah. I’ll give it another chance, but we need to take it slow this time. I won’t be moving in tomorrow or anything. We need to at least try to do it right this time.” He starts to ramble on about rules, and I agree to everything easily.

But I’m astonished. I’m fucking amazed. The thing is, he doesn’t know I’ve already made up my mind. He’s it for me. I’m going to make sure he never has a reason to leave me again. I will never take him for granted. He doesn’t know any of that for certain, but he’s giving me another chance, even though he has every reason to tell me to fuck off.

This whole time, I was the coward, the weak one. But Ben’s the brave one, and it inspires me.

“Can I kiss you?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer. He turns his head and grabs my face in his hands, sealing our lips together in the sweetest fucking kiss. A kiss that still sends a thrill through my body, like it did the first time. And it won’t be our last.

Epilogue

Ben

5 months later

“Benjamin Black.” My name booms over the speakers in the auditorium, causing my heart to race. I rise from my seat and walk toward the aisle in the center. Don’t trip over your gown. Watch the steps. Don’t make eye contact.

I did not want to attend my graduation ceremony, it’s pointless. It’s just another way for the school system to suck some more money out of the parents. But, when I told my dad, he said, “You’re probably right, but it’s sentimental. We’ll take pictures.” Not to mention, I promised Ant we’d walk together.

I reach the stage and shake a succession of hands, before stepping in front of the principal. Pretty sure, I’ve never stood this close to her. The thought brings a little smile to my face, because how ironic is it that I spent four years in the same place as this woman and I’ve never even met her.

I shake her hand and she gives me my diploma. All done. Fucking finally. Now I have to sit through every other graduating students’ walk.

“I nearly fell asleep around the time they called your name, Mr. Liam West,” I say with a laugh. He punches my shoulder.

“Your eyes better have been wide open when I took the stage,” he quips.

Damon throws his arm around my shoulder. “I passed out after they called your name,” he says.

I burst out laughing. “Damn, couldn’t even make it past the B’s?”

“Well, maybe if you didn’t keep me up all night with your mou—”

“Hold that thought,” my dad’s deep voice booms. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

My cheeks heat up with embarrassment. I clear my throat. “Liam and Teddy, you coming to my place?” I ask. Ant is actually on the way to his uncle's house right now, to attend his graduation party with his family.

“Nah. I might go to Ant’s party.”

“Teddy?” I ask.

He finally looks up from his phone. “No, I’m gonna go to my boyfriend’s house.”

I choke. “Boyfriend?! When did that happen?”

“We’ve been seeing each other for like a month now. No big deal.”

Liam’s face is set in stone. It feels like there’s something he wants to say, but his lips stay sealed.

“Uh. Okay, congrats. See you guys whenever.”

Damon and I squeeze into the bench seat in my dad’s truck, with me in the middle, of course. Damon opted to just ride with us instead of taking his car.

On the way home, my dad plays “Alive” by Godsmack as loud as he possibly can. We’ve got the windows rolled down and the warm Florida air is whipping at my hair. I feel like for once, I finally did something right. I’m fucking proud of myself. When we get a little closer to the house, my dad turns down the music.

“Damon.”

“Sir?”

“Do you want a real job?”

“I have a job, sir. I work at a Chinese food restaurant,” he says with a chuckle.

“No shit. Stop with the sir too. Call me by my name— Luke.” He clears his throat. “I asked if you wanted a real job. A career. Not another dead-end, minimum wage gig.”

“Um… yeah, I guess I’m interested in that.”

“Good. I’m hiring. You know I just got my window business started up, officially. I’ll train you up and make you an independent contractor in no time. It’s hard work, long hours. Really good pay, though. How’s that sound?”

Damon’s brows jump to his hairline. I’m just as surprised as him; this might be the most words they’ve ever exchanged at one time. It’s a really good thing, too, since he doesn’t sell weed anymore. We still smoke it, of course.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Luke,” he says with one of the brightest smiles I’ve ever seen on his face.

My dad grunts his approval and turns the radio back up.

It’s fucking insane how far we’ve all come over the course of these past months. My dad and I have a semblance of a relationship. He comes home every day now, we even cook dinner together. I’m not sure what made it click for him, but maybe he finally realized how much his actions affected me. We haven’t talked about it because no matter what changes my dad will ever make, I don’t think he’ll ever magically become a talker. His love shines through in the little things he does.

My mom and I text now. We just send each other random stuff like funny pictures we find online. Sometimes we talk on the phone. She actually video chatted with me earlier today before we left for the ceremony. She was a weeping mess. I smile to myself affectionately. I still don’t feel like she’s a motherly figure in my life—she’s more like a friend. And that’s okay. I don’t let it bother me anymore.

Damon and I don’t party anymore. Teddy, Ant, and Liam still do, though. I chose to stop because I wanted to support Damon in being sober. His sobriety is far more important than a night of drunken fun. The interesting thing, though, is that I don’t miss it. There’s so many things far more fulfilling than partying. We actually do stuff now, we spend a lot of our free time at the beach, and visit the drive-in movie theatre a lot. Even just laying around together is better than anything else.

Happiness used to feel so unattainable to me. But lately, it’s just there. I don’t even have to work for it. The difference it’s made in me is incredible. I can plan for the future now. Hell, I want to. I want to experience life—with him.

We come to a stop in front of our house. I let Damon get out and slide out after him.

“Come on.” I grab his hand. “I need to get out of these fucking slacks.” I grimace.

He laughs. “But your ass looks so good in them, pretty boy.” He grabs a fistful of it and groans deeply. “On second thought, I think I could help you out of them.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“My place?” he asks. I nod.

“Yup. Let’s go. Now.” Seeing him in a suit all day has had me all wound up. I’ve consciously had to stop myself from getting hard numerous times.

The ride to his apartment passes by in a blur. Damon and I have become so… comfortable. He’s still the same cocky and lovable asshole he’s always been, but I finally feel like I can put my faith into him. There’s still the lingering thought in the back of my head, warning me to not let my guard all the way down. I actively ignore it though, because he hasn’t slipped up. Not even once. He’s done everything he promised he would, and actively tries to be the best for me every single day. It seems so natural for him now. If he’s making the effort, then so will I.

It’s been nearly a year now, since that fateful day at the park, and I still want to drop to my knees every time he looks at me. I still want him wrapped around me every night when I sleep. And he’s always on the forefront of my mind.

We’ve come a long way, but there’s still a difficult road ahead of us. We’ve got all the time in the world, and for once I look forward to tomorrow.

After we park, he makes me walk ahead of him, so he can look at my ass. He unlocks the door and as soon as we step in the house, he spins me around and pins me against it. His lips suck on my neck all the way up my jaw. “Open up, baby,” he growls. Then, he spits in my mouth and I swallow it.

“Thank you,” I whisper right before he takes my mouth in a bruising kiss, mapping out every surface with his tongue. It sends a shiver down my spine and I turn helpless in his arms. He grabs my ass with both hands and squeezes hard, digging his fingertips in through the fabric of my pants. Abruptly, he backs up.

“Pants off. On the couch, now,” he orders, and I rush to the couch, nearly tripping over my pants in my haste.

He rubs the firm globes of my ass tenderly and leans over my back. “I love you so much, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

I turn my head and peer into his honey-brown eyes. I can see the truth of his words. 

“I’m proud of us,” I remark softly. 

Continue for a Sneak Peek into Book Two…

Teddy

My fingers move of their own accord, breaking apart the sticky green buds. I look closely at the tiny little leaves crumbling onto the tray. So beautiful. The earthy smell, that only weed has, fills my nostrils. My favorite. I reach up to push my curls from my forehead, before remembering there’s still trichomes on my fingertips—the little crystals that get you higher than high.

“You done yet? What’s taking so long?” Asher says from his bed. His voice sounds whiny, and it grates on my good mood.

“Nearly. Just taking a moment to appreciate the buds,” I say.

“What’s there to appreciate? I remember my first time smoking weed,” he jokes, mockingly. That’s Asher’s problem. He’s fucking hot as hell, but he’s such a dick.

“You should always take pleasure in the small things, Ash. All weed could disappear from the planet tomorrow, then you’d wish you didn’t take it for granted,” I say, trying to keep the mood light. I don’t want to start an unnecessary argument with him. We’ve only been dating a couple months and it seems the honeymoon phase is already over. It ended a long time ago apparently.

We’re on two totally different wavelengths, but I stick around anyway. Asher keeps my mind off him. I shake my head self-deprecatingly and pinch the broken-up weed into a joint paper—taking extra care in making it even. Once I’m satisfied, I fold the paper over and start compacting it by rolling the paper under my thumbs.

I tuck the paper behind the weed and lick the gummy adhesive, sealing the joint in one fluid motion. Lifting it up, I take a moment to admire my handiwork. He always lets me roll for him—even though he rolls just as well, he lets me because he knows it’s my favorite part. Quit fucking thinking about him. You’re sitting in front of your boyfriend, for fuck’s sake.

“Finally,” he groans, as if it’s been hours. In reality, it’s probably been no longer than five minutes. I let out an annoyed sigh. I reach into my pocket and grab my lucky lighter; it’s pink and has my zodiac sign on it—Pisces. I still remember what he said when he gave it to me on my birthday. ‘You like that colorful shit.’ The small gift brings a smile to my face every time I see it.

I do like colorful shit. My briefs are neon yellow with ice cream cones on them, and I’m wearing a turquoise tie-dye tank top.

I bring the joint to my mouth and light the tip, taking one long drag. Then another. And walk it over to Asher. Puff, puff, pass. I smoke a lot of weed, probably more than any of my friends. My paycheck from the shitty little corner store I work at mainly goes toward buying it. I can’t really think of anything else I’d rather spend the money on. I don’t care much for material things. I buy new clothes when I spot something that stands out and that’s about it.

It dawns on me for not the first time that I should be saving money for the day my mom inevitably kicks me out. She’s a loose cannon. A fucking psycho, if you will. I avoid going home as much as humanly possible, rotating between crashing at Asher’s place, sometimes Ant’s, and rarely at Ben and Damon’s. They’re so in love it makes me fucking sick sometimes. Not because they shouldn’t be together. No—they’re perfect. But because they have everything I’ve always longed for. Something I’ll never have.

Ash grabs my chin, turning my face to his. His touch feels foreign and cold. He hits the joint for probably the fifth time because he has no respect and brings his lips to mine. I part them slightly and inhale the smoke he blows into my mouth.

He deepens the kiss and I let him take the lead. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth clumsily, our teeth clank together, and the only thought in my head is—is he just letting the joint burn? What a waste.

He trails his hand down my spine, his fingers diving straight into my jeans. They brush against my hole and I stiffen, jolting upright.

“Not yet, Ash,” I groan.

“You’ve been saying that since we got together. What the fuck’s the problem?” he responds, his brows drawn in a hard line.

“I’m just not ready yet. I told you it may take some time,” I tell him, keeping my voice soft. He seems more annoyed by it than usual though.

“You’ll never be ready, you’re just a prude. You’re still a virgin at nineteen.”

My face heats in embarrassment. I turn so he can’t see the red flush spreading across my skin. He’s not even lying, that’s the worst part. “Will you just quit already? I don’t want to do it, end of story. I’ll give you a blowjob,” I try.

“You do have the softest lips I’ve ever fucking seen. Bring ‘em here, baby.” The endearment sends a chill through my spine. I fucking hate when he calls me that. But I shouldn’t. I should love it; I should want it. He’s my boyfriend after all. I tell myself again that I just need to give it time. I’ll fall for him eventually. There has to be someone who can make me get over him.

I meet his crystal blue eyes and press a kiss to his lips. “I’m sorry. Soon, I promise,” I whisper.

“It’s okay, my bad for getting frustrated. It’s just been so long since I fucked. And it makes me feel like you don’t want me.”

“I do.” I don’t.

I pull his sweatpants down; he lifts his hips to help me. He’s not wearing anything underneath them. The sight of his long hard dick doesn’t do much for me. It doesn’t overwhelm me with lust. I may not have had sex, but I know how it feels to fucking need it. But I don’t feel that way with him, and it infuriates me.

I bring my lips to the head of his cock and give it my all. I suck him in slowly and pump my fist at the base. I lick up and down his shaft and do all the things I’m supposed to do.

But the entire time, it’s not his face that I see in my head. It’s not his voice that I hear groaning my name.

In my head, I see him. My very straight best friend. The one I will never have. Liam.

Acknowledgments

There are so many people who contributed to this. First, I’d like to thank my Fiancé and my mom for supporting what started out as a tiny idea. They encouraged me even way back then.

To all of my friends who’ve listened to my anxiety induced rants over the past many months, thanks for always keeping it honest with me. Ashley, Anna, Allie, Marshay, Nina, Michelle, Nick, Sam, Whitney, Marie, and Rae: I’m talking to you! Some of you read early drafts and really pushed me to keep on writing whenever I felt like it was pointless. This book might not have ever been finished if not for y’all.

A special thank you to Ashlee for designing this beautiful cover in such short notice and being so kind to me during a time when I was pretty stressed out. I seriously can’t thank you enough.

All the thanks to Zainab who edited this bad boy. I know it was a hot mess when I gave it to you, and I assure you the next one will be better. You’re seriously amazing at what you do, and you made me feel so much more at ease about this whole process.

Last but definitely not least, thank you to everyone who picked up this book and made it this far, and I hope you love Damon and Ben as much as I do.

About the Author

Bailey is an author who loves writing LGBTQ+ romance books. She'd much rather write about fictional worlds and characters than herself, but she loves to interact with her readers!

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