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Bonnie’s and Savannah’s jaws dropped. “You’re dating Ms. Evans?!” they whisper-shouted.
My eyes widened at their comment. I slammed my locker shut, turned to them, and whispered, “Shut up, ladies.”
Savannah placed her hands on my shoulders and narrowed her eyes toward me. “Milo Corti, I’ve known you since you were in diapers, so don’t think you could lie to me for a second, okay? Are you, or are you not, in a secret relationship with Ms. Evans?”
I blinked a few times. I blinked a few times more. “It’s…complicated.”
“OHMYGOSH!” they shouted in unison.
I was fucked.
The bell rang, so I headed toward my next class. Bonnie had to go in the opposite direction, but Savannah kept her pace beside me. “You need to tell me everything,” she whispered. “Everything!”
“No, actually, I don’t.”
“Milo! I’m your best friend. I deserve every single detail.” She narrowed her eyes and forced me to stop walking. “Is she good in bed?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“So, you’ve had her in your bed.”
“I’m not answering that, either.”
“Oh my gosh, she’s the best sex you’ve ever had, isn’t she?”
I sighed. I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. I knew I wasn’t going to get out of that. “Yeah, she is…but that’s not all it is…I… I love her, Savannah. You can’t say anything to anyone. But I love her.”
Savannah’s eyes glassed over as she flew her hands over her chest. “OHMYGOSH!” she cried out.
For fuck’s sake.
I didn’t know how much more I could take of this.
We headed to English class, and I didn’t look at Starlet. I didn’t need to make the situation more obvious than it’d already been. Savannah passed me a note as class started.
Does she love you, too?
I read the words and crumpled up the paper.
She passed another one.
Are you going to marry her?
Crumpled.
Can I be your best woman when you get married?
Crumpled, crumpled, crumpled.
Oh my gosh. You’re screwing our teacher!
Crump-fucking-crumpled.
Tom has been convinced that you two have been screwing for a long time.
“Stop it,” I whisper-shouted, tearing up the last piece of paper.
Savannah seemed unfazed by my shortness with her. “This is just like the soap operas my grandma watches every day. Scandalous. I love this for you. You needed a better story arc outside of the sad stuff. I think it’s good for you. I think she’s good for you.”
I grumbled and ignored Savannah’s commentary.
She wasn’t wrong, though.
I knew Starlet was good for me, too.
For the next few minutes, I overthought how I’d have to tell Starlet that my friends had found out about us. I’d also have to hammer it into said friends that if they spoke a word about it to anyone, I’d rip them in half and toss them into the lake where no one would ever find them. Halfway through class, Weston showed up to the class with a look of dismay on his face.
“Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Slade, but I need to borrow Milo from class,” Weston said as he straightened his glasses. He turned to me, and a small smile found his face. “He’s awake.”
He’s awake?
I shot up from my desk, grabbed my backpack, and started in Weston’s direction. When I passed Starlet, I noticed her eyes on the verge of tears as a smile stayed plastered on her face. My sweet, sensitive Star. She mouthed, “He’s awake.”
I felt her words roll through my soul, and I nodded and continued to head out with Weston.
He’s awake.
Weston and I flew to the hospital, and the moment I walked into Dad’s room, I saw his eyes. I could still see him, and he could still see me. I worried for so damn long that I wouldn’t be able to see his eyes ever again if he hadn’t chosen to wake up. Yet there he was—awake.
“Hey, Son,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and tired.
I rushed over to him and wrapped my arms around him. I began to sob against his shoulder as he fell apart against mine. All the fighting we’d done over the past year didn’t seem to matter at that moment. All of the hurt and struggles we’d faced seemed to evaporate right then and there. Nothing mattered except for the fact he was okay. He was alive. He was awake.
“Don’t ever do that again,” I scolded him, feeling as if my heart would fly out of my chest from how hard it pounded against my rib cage. “Don’t ever fucking do that again, Dad,” I repeated.
Once I let him go, his tears kept falling. He brushed the back of his hand beneath his nose and sniffled as he looked toward Weston and me. “I think I need to get help,” he confessed. “I can’t stay this way. I want to get better. I need help.”
Hearing him say those words felt like music to my ears. I hugged him again and softly spoke. “Okay, Dad. We’ll get you help.”
