Chapter 15: Pinky Promise Pt 2
Ollie's POV
I hadn’t even made it halfway down the sidewalk to the bus stop as Mason’s car slid up next to me. He rolled the window down, a smile donning his face.
“Hey,” he said, leaning over closer to the passenger side window.
“Hey.” My eyes shifted, wondering if anybody would find this situation weird. Mason had always been around the others; surely rumors would fly if he was seen with me. He motioned to the seat, and I hesitantly got in. My eyes trained on the glove box, hoping the tint was dark enough and that no one had seen me.
The radio was blasting a classic Elton John song, one I hadn’t expected from Mason, but he turned it down and cleared his throat before I could say anything. “I waited for a bit, but the bus nearly honked at me for parking there. You got out late?”
“Uh, yeah, a little.”
“How’s the uh...the stomach?”
“Sore, but I guess manageable.” I rolled my eyes as he pulled out of the school parking lot. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “It’s not like they broke my arm.”
“Yeah, but that wasn’t called for; they’re idiots.” If my side hadn’t been sore, I would’ve laughed at that. He sent a curious look at my amused face. “What? They really don’t know what they’re doing. You can’t just punch people like that; what if you had internal bleeding or a broken rib?”
His face scrunched as if distressed, and I wasn’t sure why I had found that so funny. Maybe it was because he technically was one of those idiots; he had been there to witness some of the hurtful things Benjamin said. And yet, now he was upset on my behalf? Was it wrong to be that skeptical?
“Well, I could be bleeding internally, I guess, and just don’t know it,” I told him jokingly, to which he whipped his head toward me. Luckily we were at a red light, or I’d fear he’d crash his car.
“That’s not funny, Ollie—” He stopped short, gulping before saying meekly, “I mean, Oliver.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. You haven’t pissed me off. Yet, anyways. Although, it is quite alarming how eager you were to talk to me. To risk being seen with me, especially near campus, just seems odd; unless you have other ideas. Like, I don’t know, dropping me off the side of the highway or in a ditch somewhere.”
“Why on earth would I do that?”
Lifting my shoulders, I looked out the window, my fingers drumming against the door handle. “I mean, they are your friends. More of your friends than mine nowadays.”
“No.” He made a face. “I wouldn’t say that; Benji ignored me after he started dating Lauren. It’s always ‘Lauren this, Lauren that.’ He barely responds to any of us in the group chat. You saw them at lunch, glued to each other’s side.”
Suppressing a laugh, a series of memories of Benji and me resurfaced. We had once been called two peas in a pod; me, a jam to his jelly, or pairing milk with cookies.
“We were like that,” I muttered unintentionally, before clarifying, “glued to each other’s sides for nearly twelve years.”
“That’s why I just can’t see why he’d let that happen.” He clenched the steering wheel so tightly, the whites of his knuckles were visible. “I didn’t think they could be so violent, either. Especially to you. I mean, the whole team hung out with you.”
“Well, I hadn’t expected it either. Especially from Benji.” I sighed. “I guess he didn’t like that I was going to the dance with Harvey. Or that I was going with a guy, to begin with.”
“Harvey? That kid that kissed you near the field?” There was a weird, almost annoyed tone in his voice.
“Yeah,” I said sheepishly.
Mason let out a frustrated sigh, raising a fisted hand as if he was about to pound his steering wheel before defeatedly uncurling his fist to steer the car. “That’s ridiculous.”
At the light, he turned left, pulling away from the direction toward my house. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere to talk, unless you’d rather go home?” He tilted his head. “I can turn around if you’d like.”
“No, it’s fine. That park is pretty secluded.” I pointed off in the distance. “I don’t think high-schoolers go there after school.”
“Worried about being seen?”
“Aren’t you?” I scoffed. “You have an openly gay guy in your car. Isn’t the risk greater for you, mister star football player?”
He let out a curt laugh, the sly smile remaining on his face as he neared the turn to the park. “You wouldn’t be the first gay guy in my car.”
My head whipped so fast. “Oh?”
“A story for another time.” He waved a hand as if to brush it off before pulling into a parking spot. “Besides, this isn’t your first time in my car.”
“True.” My eyes narrowed. “So, what should we talk about?”
He held his palm out. “You knew Benjamin the longest—”
“Well, now I’m not so sure I knew him at all.”
“Yeah, I guess. There’s got to be a reason for Benji being like this.” He sighed. “You don’t just hurt your best friend like that. I thought he was fine with your sexuality; the team said he got defensive when people treated you differently.”
My lips pursed. There weren’t enough fingers to count the number of times he stepped in for me. It hadn’t been limited to just about sexuality either; he’d glare at anyone mentioning how I was a nerd, or short, or an oddball for being around these buff football players all the time. “Yeah, I thought he was fine with it too. He probably believes being around queer people will only negatively affect his plans for football or his own love life.”
Mason shook his head. “That’s so naive. You can’t just pass it onto someone like some disease.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Is he afraid that you’ll like him? Try to make a move on him?” Mason drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to think of any reason for this to be justified. “I mean unless he’s your type, but still, that doesn’t justify bullying.”
I bit my lip a bit harshly. If only you knew that Benji was exactly my type. Benji was the epitome of my type—before all this shit, of course—but he couldn’t have known that.
Or did he?
Had Benji realized something in that dense brain of his? Was I not subtle enough to hide that silly crush I had developed over the eleven and a half years of growing up with each other? And if he did, was he repulsed by the idea of me liking him? Was that so wrong in his mind that it warranted a bruised side and verbal insults?
“Ollie?” I jerked my head to Mason, who looked at me curiously. “You alright?”
With a nod, I looked out the window, hoping Mason wouldn’t catch onto my lying. Of course, I wasn’t alright, but it wasn’t like he could do anything about it.
“He’s been ignoring you too,” I said weakly. “You two seemed to hit it off when you first got here.”
He hummed. “Yeah, until Lauren happened.”
“Maybe there’s trouble in paradise?” I said. “Hence the lashing out and ignoring his friends. Maybe the perfect couple isn’t as perfect as they seem?”
“What would that have to do with you, though?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I’m just the easy target. He knows I’m not the type to get teachers involved and wouldn’t ruin his reputation like that.”
“You wouldn’t?”
I couldn’t meet Mason’s gaze. “I couldn’t do that to him, not after all that he’s done for me. Before this whole situation, anyways.”
“But he’s bullying you, Ollie.”
“He didn’t throw the punch—”
Mason turned in his seat to face me directly, an unreadable expression on his face. “And if he does, will you then?”
“I—I probably wouldn’t.” My stomach twisted, knowing how bad that sounded, but it was the truth. Unlike Benji, I wouldn’t dare throw a friendship in his face like that.
“Ollie.” Mason’s tone was gentle, yet I could tell it was bordering on condescending. “That’s—this is serious. What if he breaks your arm or leg? You’re just going to let it go?”
“You don’t understand,” I said in a hushed tone. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I,” I faltered. “I just can’t.”
He shook his head. “He’s bullying you, Ollie. You can’t let this happen and just let him get away with it.”
“I can’t do that to him.” I gulped. “Our friendship means more to me than that. I can’t just throw that away.”
Feelings and our years of secrets and growing up wasn’t something I could throw away. I had become who I was because of Benji in a way. Yeah, we were different in so many ways, and even now, with this giant chasm separating us, I couldn’t help but remember the good things we had. He had been there as I realized who I was, from my horrible fashion decisions in middle school to discovering my sexuality. He had been there.
And then, there was, of course, the bigger answer. The years I realized my feelings toward Benjamin had been more than just what regular guy friends felt toward each other.
“I don’t understand.” His face searched for the answer, but it was so complicated.
How does someone even explain what a friendship like this had meant? Or how having a crush on said friend made things that more complicated? Was it as complicated as it seemed? Would Mason even begin to understand what that was like?
But who else could I have told someone about something like this? Everybody had known Benji and I as a dynamic duo growing up. They would look at me differently, at the both of us.
But Mason was different, time-wise, he had hardly known us.
So, with a sigh, I told him about my big fat gay crush on Benjamin I had, one that I still wasn’t sure I had stamped out.
“You like Benjamin?” Mason repeated slowly. “Like, really like him?”
“Did,” I corrected, not even sure if that was true anymore. Deep down, a long-term crush wasn’t something I could completely let go of. I had seen all the things Benjamin had done for me, all the things he was capable of; he was still the same person, right? It sounded outrageous, but there was still an ounce of hope that maybe he’d go back to the protective, caring friend he had been growing up with. “But, yeah. It was stupid, and—and a long time ago.”
“Oh.”
Despite how scared I was of Mason’s reaction, it felt nice to tell someone finally. Was it a poor choice of a person to tell? Sure. Would I regret that decision? Most likely. But Mason was more reasonable than I had been led to believe. He seemed to at least have some decency and common sense.
He blinked before asking, “so he doesn’t know?”
Well, some common sense.
“No,” I said. “And I don’t want him to, ever.”
“Reasonable.”
“I mean it, Mason.”
He held up his pinky finger with an unamused look on his face. “I won’t tell him, I promise.”
“Good.”
“But, I think you really should tell someone about the bullying, especially if it gets worse.”
My lips pulled up into a smirk. “I just did, didn’t I?”
“You know what I meant.” He narrowed his eyes. “A teacher or counselor. This shouldn’t keep happening.”
I rolled my eyes but nodded, extending my pinky to his. “Fine. I’ll tell someone if they do it again. Promise.”
“Good.” We interlaced our pinkie fingers before he started up the car again. “Hungry?”
“Starved.”
“Well, what would you like to eat, new best friend?” I cringed before we both laughed at how that sounded. Between laughs, he said, “that was terrible, wasn’t it.”
“Yeah, it sure was,” I mocked as he headed off on the main road. “Surprise me, friend.”
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