“Thanks.” He smiles.
A circle of people on the lawn notice our arrival, some I vaguely recognize from Friday’s football game, and there’s a chorus of surprised shouts for Kaleb.
He takes a deep, slow breath, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment, then says, “I better go talk to them. I’ll find you guys inside.”
It’s like watching an actor about to head out on stage as he strides towards them. He squares his shoulders, and his face transforms into a facsimile of excited joy. The girls hug him and the guys pat him on the back in greeting. He laughs and nods, his teeth glowing with his wide grin, and it looks like just what it is--- a performance. Watching as he tries to roll the tension out of his shoulders, sympathy washes over me as it becomes clear why he doesn’t come to these things. I’m tired just looking at it all.
“And then there was three,” Felix quips. “Alright, let’s go see what all the fuss is about.”
Connor leads the way up the driveway, and this time I walk so Felix is between us, hopefully to keep him from being walked through. Just like school, people make sure to give Connor plenty of space to move.
When we finally get inside, there’s a steady din of talking and music coming from somewhere further in the house, and teenagers are all over the place, many with red plastic cups in their hands. The temperature jumps a good forty degrees, and I unzip my jacket, already warm.
When I scan the room, I see Nolan standing near the far wall of the formal living room. He’s wearing a black shirt, shucked up to his elbows, unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, and only tucked in at the button of his dark designer jeans. His hair is styled to look artfully mussed and to partially fall into his eyes.
I’m about to walk over, when I notice the girl he’s standing with. She’s dressed in a short, black floral dress, has dark brown hair that she twirls around her fingers, and looks at Nolan like she can barely believe he’s noticed her.
Nolan leans down with a smirk full of promise and whispers in her ear. She giggles and blushes, as she nods her head, and my stomach sinks. It would be one thing if he liked this girl, but his playboy performance reeks just as false as Kaleb’s good time one outside, but with far harsher results. It feels wrong what he’s doing, preying on this girl, and it’s hard to reconcile him with the boy that I know. The one that escorts me to class, holds my hand when I’m nervous, teases me, and walks a careful line to show me the comfort of being touched.Is there no other way?
“Campbell, you fucking fag,” shouts a large and heavily muscled guy barreling over from the other side of the room, startling me. “Don’t know why you bother hitting on girls. No one’s buying your in-the-closet bullshit.”
The whole room grows quiet, watching as Nolan turns to address the asshole now in front of him. He quirks a brow, his smirk turning cruel, and with the same fluidity of a stalking panther, he strolls to within inches of the guy, his gaze holding him frozen in place. There’s a sexual energy that coils around him, but similar to when Gina crashed our lunch, Nolan’s eyes promise only pain--- pain that the victim will beg for.
The asshole who was filled with vitriol only moments ago, now stands scared and mesmerized at the same time, not daring to move away.
Nolan’s face is so close, I’m sure the guy can feel his breath, as he purrs, “If I want to have sex with a girl, I’ll have sex with a girl, and if I want to have sex with a boy, I’ll have sex with a boy.” His eyes droop, like he’s whispering to a lover, and his hand slowly glides down the assholes arm, Nolan leading the guy’s hand to his own blatant erection. “I think we can both agree who I fuck is nobody else’s business, and my sexuality has no real bearing on my character, right?”
The asshole swallows heavily and nods, his face burning under the crowd’s harsh judgement.
Nolan tilts his head to the side, a perverse frown marring his handsome features. “I don’t believe everyone heard you. You’ll have to speak up.”
“Yes,” he grunts out, his breath labored.
“Yes, what?” Nolan sneers back.
“Yes,” he stutters, his eyes wide with frightened uncertainty, “who you fuck is none of my business and has no bearing on your character.”
Nolan steps back, tsking in disgust, and orders, “Now, sit down and shut the fuck up.”
He lumbers away in a confused daze, dropping heavily into a nearby armchair.
The girl from earlier walks up beside Nolan, slipping her hand into his shirt and kissing his neck. His playboy smirk falls back into place as he returns his focus to her, but there’s nothing but anger and a disheartening emptiness to his artic blue eyes.
With the show over, everyone goes back to their own conversations, though I notice a lot more stolen looks at Nolan-- from both guys and girls.
And now I know what Nolan meant about charming people.
My tumultuous feelings must be written on my face, because when Connor looks down at me, he shakes his head, leans down and speaks low into my ear, “There’s more to it.” He glances around, then takes my hand, leading me through the room and away from Nolan, Felix doing his best to follow behind.
I concentrate on the feeling of Connor’s skin against mine, his hand warm and smooth, encapsulating my tiny one. I don’t know what to feel. There’s no love lost over a homophobic asshole, and the encounter ended without any violence, which is good, but watching someone’s will be stripped from them is-- difficult. Mixed with the true purpose of Nolan being here, and I can’t help the twisted nauseous sensation in my belly.
Connor leads me through some type of game room, and I find Donovan standing near a pool table with his arm around a blonde girl and a beer hanging from his fingers. Concern furrows his brow when he meets my gaze. He’s about to peel away from the girl when his eyes meet Connor’s. They seem to have some kind of silent conversation, where Connor ends it with a subtle shake of his head, and then continues to lead me through another set of doors and out to the backyard.
The back is huge with a covered swimming pool, hot tub, and still plenty of yard. It’s also, thankfully, far less crowded. We head to a set of empty chairs that sit on just the edge of where cement meets grass. Connor releases me and motions for me to sit, then takes the seat to my right. Felix stands to one side, his hands in his pockets, and a pensive look in his eyes. I tuck my hands between my knees and wait for Connor to start, surprised that he’s taking this task on himself.
He folds his hands together and looks out into the middle distance, as if trying to gather all the words he’ll need to attempt to make me understand. He sighs, then turns his gaze on me. There’s a pull to his brows and press to his lips that asks for my patience--- his expressions often more communicative than his words.
“Nolan’s cursed,” he opens, his voice low but laced with frustration.
