1
Tyler
The rideshare pulledup to the Sigma Epsilon house where I lived on Greek Row near Hawkins University, and a sense of dread washed over me as I spotted the all too familiar bright red BMW parked on the street. Ford, my ex, was home and the memory of him dumping me over the phone an hour before I boarded my flight home to San Diego for the holidays replayed in my mind.
“I don’t think things are going to work out between us.”
“You’re breaking up with me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice low so I wouldn’t draw the attention of the other travelers waiting at the gate.
“I guess I am.”
“You guess?”
“We want different things, Tyler. I told you I wasn’t sure I was ready to announce to the world I was dating a guy.”
“I’m not asking you to do that.” I sighed. Hiding my relationship wasn’t something I wanted to do. I’d come out when I was fourteen. Still, I wouldn’t push someone to share their sexuality with others if they weren’t ready.
“Things were supposed to just be a bit of fun,” he replied, ignoring what I’d said. “Then it became more serious than I wanted.”
Was he kidding me? He’d been the one to pull me into his room during one of our parties. He’d made the first move, shocking the hell out of me. I’d assumed it would be a one-time deal, but he did the same thing the following night, and before I knew it, we were sneaking into each other’s rooms several times a week.
“Ford—”
“Look, I gotta go. The guys and I are going out tonight before I leave tomorrow.”
“Wait,” I begged, but the call disconnected before I could say anything else.
For the last three weeks, I’d made a conscious effort to push everything related to Ford out of my mind and focused on having a great time with my family and catching up with friends. It wasn’t as if I spent my break nursing a broken heart. Sure, I liked him and enjoyed spending the last three months getting to know him better, but I didn’t see our relationship as serious as he seemed to believe I had. However, returning to school meant I could no longer ignore the fact we were going to continue living together for the next five months.
“Thanks, man,” I said to the driver, then grabbed my suitcase and duffle bag and headed up the walkway.
Silence greeted me when I pushed open the door to the three-story, colonial-style party house. It was only Thursday, and the spring semester didn’t start until Monday, so besides Ford and a couple of the guys whose families lived locally, I assumed the rest of my housemates wouldn’t be home until Sunday night. They were most likely trying to squeeze in as much fun as they could before the stress of the new classes began.
Trying to avoid Ford at all costs, I hurried up the stairs to my room on the second floor and tossed my bags onto the full-size bed.
“Hey, welcome home,” a friendly voice called from behind me.
Turning my head, I saw Fallon, one of the local guys and our fraternity president, standing in my doorway. He and I met on our first day of class three and a half years ago and had been best friends ever since. “Thanks. How was your break?”
“The usual.” He sighed. “Family get-togethers filled with heated political debates.” Fallon was born into a family of politicians and lawyers, so while it was probably normal for him, it sounded awful to me.
“They don’t chill out during the holidays?”
He chuckled. “Hell no, it’s their favorite pastime.”
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“When you grow up a certain way, you get used to it. Besides, I’m not missing out on home-cooked meals because my family is annoying. I’m going to have to hit the gym extra hard after all that food.” He patted his stomach. When Fallon said “home-cooked meals,” he didn’t mean food made by his mom or dad. No, his family had a personal chef, maid, driver, all of that shit since they were what some would call “old money.” On top of that his dad was a U.S. Senator representing Massachusetts and there was talk he might run for president in the next election.
“You’re ridiculous.” I shook my head and laughed. He was a member of the rowing team, so overindulging in a few meals would likely have little impact on the six-pack I’d seen him sporting when we’d hung out by the pool.
He walked across the room and plopped down on my bed as I picked up a stack of shirts and moved them to my dresser. Thankfully I’d done my laundry before leaving San Diego, so I didn’t need to worry about it before school started back up.
“We’re all hitting up Ernie’s later. You and Ford wanna come?” he asked.
I took a deep breath. “Ford broke up with me.”
Fallon winced. “Shit. You just got home. When did that happen?”
