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He laughs, shaking his red hair like a mane. He shakes the bag in front of me. “It means your days of having to share Xanny with your boy are over.”
“How’d you get him to do it?”
It’s there on his face. The way he smirks, and how his freckled cheeks round on a smile that’s unmistakably smug.
“How did you?” he asks.
My body goes cold as the air leaves my lungs. “What do you mean?” The words echo through me, hollow and surreal.
“Laurent told me.”
“Told you what?”
Nate laughs, a low rasp, and the floor tilts under my feet.
“What did he tell you?” I don’t realize that I’ve grabbed his shirt till Nate steps back. He holds both hands out.
“Calm down, bro. Laurent is…like a mentor to a lot of us.” He can barely get the words out without snickering.
“He’s not your mentor.”
“No.” His face cements into a serious expression as he stuffs the baggie back in his pocket.
“For how long?” I rasp.
“Long time, brother.”
“Did he—”
He holds his hand up, shakes his head. Don’t ask.
I’m so stunned, I don’t feel anger.
Nate. Holy fucking shit, how did I not see?
“So you’re saying—”
He chuckles. “Since Caitlin.”
Jesus Christ. I can’t draw a breath as Nate claps my shoulder and leaves the room. It’s my fault. Holy fuck, it’s my fault that this happened. Holy fuck.
Somehow, I say bye to my buddies, still eating their pizza. Nate is opening the moonshine. In years to come, I’ll remember how he looked as he took off the top. How his eyes held mine for just a second too long, asking if I was upset. Asking, maybe, how I felt about him being gay.
I rip my gaze away from his and mutter, “Happy birthday, fucker.”
Then I’m down the stairs and out into the breezy night. I find the old man in his place across campus, watching 30 Rock with subtitles and wearing a black bathrobe. When he opens the door, I break his fucking face—for the second time in five years. I unleash the threat I’ve never had to make; instead, I blackmailed him, promising to keep quiet about what he did to me if he kept me stocked with the pills I needed.
“I don’t give a fuck about that now, you fucking piece of shit!” His blood splatters the rug. My knuckle splits as I knock one of his teeth out. I kick him so hard he can’t walk for days, I later find out. Then I kick him again.
“You fucking pedophile. You fucking freak!”
When he tries to tell me Nate came onto him, I kick him harder. Caitlin was three years ago. This piece of fucking shit has fucked my friend up for three fucking years. I think about the razorblade stuff, and I want to kill him. Then I think of Nate. I think of me and what I’d have to fucking say if someone calls the cops, and I get out of there.
I’ve got his blood all over me, so I can’t go to my room; Nate and I share a bathroom. I spend that night at Ms. Keller’s place, letting her suck my dick and patch up my knuckles.
She’s young—just a few years older than me, and likely years younger in experience. She never notices something is off with me. When I fuck her from behind, wrapping my arm around her neck, she giggles and she gasps and sighs like it’s a game. I’m glad it’s a game for her. She isn’t scared like I was. I get off pretending she is.
I fuck her three times
