When the alarm went off, it barely registered. What really woke me was the dull throb in my cheeks. The kind of ache that felt deep, like it had sunk into the bone overnight. If Tracy were home, she’d probably have already barged into my room with a makeup kit and some sassy comment, magically erasing the worst of it. But she wasn’t here, so yeah.

And anyway, I was used to this kind of attention. People would talk, whisper, stare. They always did. But what worried me was Chris. I didn’t want him getting pulled into the mess. Hopefully, the spotlight stayed on me and Benson, and no one remembered who lit the fuse.

At school, I found Tracy sitting cross-legged beneath my locker, flipping through her notes like she didn’t have a care in the world. But the second she looked up and saw my face, her eyes widened in horror.

“Oh my god, Troy!” she gasped. “I heard you got into a fight, but I didn’t know it was this bad. Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

“Relax,” I said, waving it off. “Just a bruise. No big deal.”

“You can drop the act. I can tell you’re in pain.”

I smirked. “Yeah? How are you so sure?”

“Twin telepathy.” She grinned, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

But her tone shifted quickly. “Seriously, though, what were you thinking? Picking a fight with Benson?”

“He was about to lay into someone,” I said.

She raised a brow. “Since when do you jump into other people’s drama? Who was it?” I hesitated. I already knew what was coming.

“It was this new guy.”

Her whole face lit up like I’d handed her a birthday cake.

“Ooooh. A new guy. I see you, Troy, I see you.”

She used that high-pitched voice on purpose. The one she knew drove me nuts.

“Tell me everything. How’d you meet him? Is he cute?”

But I spotted Chris rounding the corner down the hallway, and thank God, it gave me an excuse to flee.

“I gotta go. We’ll talk at home, okay? I have a favor to ask you, anyway.”

She was already shouting something after me as I walked away, but I didn’t catch it.

Chris looked up when I approached. His smile was small, but it was enough to loosen something in my chest.

“Hey, Troy. Jesus, you’re all bruised. I feel so bad... I’m really sorry about yesterday.”

“Are you going to stop apologizing anytime soon?” I said with a grin.

“Did your mom suspect anything?”

“Nope. Everything went perfectly. Thanks to you.”

His relief was instant. That wide smile of his? I didn’t know how much I needed it until I saw it.

“Thank God, then.”

“I was wondering if—”

Before I could finish, Benson’s voice tore through the hallway like a chainsaw.

“Hey, faggot!”

I told myself to ignore it, but that impulse never sticks.

“What do you want, fuck-face?” I snapped before I could stop myself.

Benson sauntered over with that smug grin plastered on his face. “What happened to you, Bennett? You look like shit!”

Ryan stood next to him, giggling, as useless as ever. But Jamie muttered something to Benson and pulled him away before things got worse.

When they finally disappeared, Chris looked ghost-white.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

He didn’t sound convincing.

“You gotta relax, man. You can’t let Benson get into your head like that.”

“I thought you were gonna jump on him again.”

That one stung more than it should’ve.

“Why? I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not some rabid dog.”

“I—I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammered. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “Look... that fight yesterday? That’s not normal. That stuff hardly ever happens. Usually it’s just... he yells something, I yell back, it’s over. It’s stupid. But it works.”

“Doesn’t it bother you? Him, calling you that?”

I shrugged. “I mean, if you think about it... he’s not really wrong, is he?”

“What do you mean?”

“If by ‘faggot’ he means ‘gay’, then yeah, I’m a faggot. So really, he’s just shouting ‘gay’ at me. That’s like me yelling ‘blond’ at you from across the hallway. It’s a fact. Sounds pretty dumb when you think about it like that.”

Chris didn’t know what to say. I could see it all over his face.

My pulse quickened. Shit.

I forgot. I was so used to everyone knowing that I didn’t even think that he probably didn’t. I had forgotten what it felt like. That split-second of silence after you come out. Like time stops, and you’re waiting for the verdict.

Was he disgusted? Would he stop hanging out with me now? Think I was hitting on him?

“It’s okay if you didn’t know,” I said quickly. “I’m just used to everyone knowing.”

“The entire school knows?”

“Yup. Someone saw me making out with a guy at a party. The gossip spread like wildfire.”

“Jesus. That’s awful... That must’ve been really tough.”

“It sucked,” I admitted. “But the good news is, scandals don’t last forever. Eventually, someone else did something worse, and people moved on.”

I hesitated, heart pounding. “Look, I get it if you don’t wanna be seen around me. I wouldn’t blame you.”

He frowned, like I’d just spoken in another language.

“Why would I want that?” he asked. “We went through all that crap yesterday and survived. I’d never ditch someone just because of who they like. That’s messed up.”

I blinked, trying not to let it show how much that meant to me.

“That’s really nice of you to say.”

The bell was about to ring. Reality was creeping back in. But before I left, I turned to him again.

“I was wondering if I could stop by your place later? To return your clothes.”

“I’ll be at work between four and eight,” he said. “Coffee shop near the hairdresser. You can come by if you want.”

“Cool. I’ll give you my number, and you can text me the name.”

I punched it into his phone. Part of me still waited for the other shoe to drop, but another part of me, one I hadn’t felt in a while, was hopeful.

He smiled as I walked away. And for the first time in a long time... I felt better?

***

Later that day, I dragged myself to the bleachers. That place is my sanctuary. I settled into my usual spot, far enough from the potheads to avoid the stench, and lit a cigarette.

And then I saw him—Jamie—walking like he owned the place.

I could stare at him for hours... Pathetic, I know. But I’m just a simple mortal, and the guy’s hot as hell.

I try to make it to all the baseball games. It’s not because I give a damn about baseball, I couldn’t care less about sports. I’m there for one reason and one reason only: Jamie’s ass in those tight pants.

I don’t want to bang him, trust me. I mean, I could if I wanted to. I’d just have to tell him where and when. But my thing with Jamie... It’s not like that. He’s like one of those posters of hot guys that girls hang on their bedroom walls. You don’t fall for the poster. You just look.

Besides, he’s one of my best friends, and I’m perfectly fine with it staying that way.

So, I tried not to stare. Tried.

But then he veered my way.

“Hey there, Bennett!”

“Sup, Jamie.”

He lit a cigarette, lounging next to me like it was his couch.

“Sorry about the Benson thing yesterday.”

“Why are you apologizing? It wasn’t your fault.”

Still, I was glad he’d stepped in. Otherwise, Benson might’ve broken more than just my pride.

Jamie let out a long sigh. “I don’t know why, but I kinda feel responsible for him.”

“Maybe you should keep him on a leash.”

“Yeah, I probably should.”

He leaned closer and reached out, tilting my chin like I was some fruit he was inspecting at the market. My whole body tensed.

“He did mess up your face pretty bad, huh, Pretty Boy?”

I jerked my head away. He just smiled like it was a game. Likes to rile me up, this one.

I stood. “I’m heading back.”

“Later,” he said with a lazy wave.

***

After school was done, I went straight back home. I had a terrible headache, and I was tired as hell.

I was lying in bed, phone in hand, half-asleep and doomscrolling, when Tracy knocked and let herself in.

“Did you really think you could weasel your way out of this conversation?”

She sat on the edge of the bed. I moved my legs so she had space.

Tracy’s the golden child. Pretty, smart, squeaky clean reputation. We used to look alike. Not anymore, though.

But she’s always been in my corner. No matter how much I screw up.

“I saw the guy you were talking about today. Chris, right?”

“How do you know his name?”

“I have my ways,” she said smugly. “He’s in some of my classes. And he also works at that coffee shop near the hairdresser.”

I hadn’t been to that place in years. Unfortunately.

“He’s cute,” she added.

“Yeah... He is.”

“You like him?”

“I just met him,” I snapped. “And he’s probably straight.”

“You never know.”

“Honestly? I’m just glad to get to know him. He’s... different.”

She listened like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever heard while I told her the whole story, how I went to his place, borrowed clothes, everything.

“Oh, and can you help me get the bloodstains out of my clothes?”

“Again? What do I get in return?”

“My eternal gratitude?”

“Not enough.”

“Fine. I’ll do your chores next weekend.”

“Deal.”

At dinner, I inhaled my food and told Mom and Dad I was meeting a friend. I grabbed Chris’s shirt and drove Mom’s van to the coffee shop.

When I walked in, Chris was behind the counter, serving some lady. He looked up and smiled, small and cautious.

I sat down at the counter and tapped my fingers on it, watching him make a coffee for her. All focused and careful.

He quickly gave her the coffee, and she left, leaving some money on the counter.

“You made it,” he said, leaning on the counter in front of me, looking me straight in the eyes. He does that sometimes. Which is weird because he seems so nervous all the time. But now and then, he looks at me like he’s curious or something. Do I get it? No. Does it bother me? Not really...

“Thanks again for letting me borrow the clothes,” I said.

He nodded and took the bag to the back.

When he returned, he leaned against the counter. “Want a coffee? It’s on the house. Just don’t tell my boss.”

“Wow, already taking advantage? I’m proud.”

His laugh hit me in that soft spot I pretended didn’t exist. Ugh. Every damn time.

He handed me a mug a minute later.

I took a sip. He stared at me like I was a coffee critic and my opinion would make or break his entire career.

“Okay... this is actually really good!”

“Glad you like it,” he said, sounding like he was proud of himself.

“How’s working here?”

“I like it. It’s quiet. Chill. Sometimes I even get to study.”

I glanced around. Seemed pretty empty and quiet.

“Doesn’t it get boring?”

“Yeah. But I’d rather be bored than stressed. But yeah.. it does get lonely sometimes.”

There was something heavy under his words.

“I can come by and keep you company sometime, if you want.”

Shit. I said that without thinking. Was it too much? I didn’t want to sound clingy.

“Oh, you don’t have to...”

I tried to decode his tone. He kinda sounded a bit sad when he said that? Was I right?

“It’s no bother. Really.

“Then yeah, that would be cool.”

An idea barged in. And I spit it out. Again, without thinking it through.

“You working Friday? Next week?”

He tilted his head slightly. “No, why?”

“There’s this party. Wanna come?”

Was it too straightforward? Maybe I should have given him some space.

Another customer walks in, and Chris heads over to serve him. I picked up the phone and pretended I was doing something. When, in reality, I was so goddamn anxious.

I tried to put myself in his shoes. If I were straight and some gay guy kept inviting me to hang out, I'd probably assume he was hitting on me. But it was not like that. It wasn’t like that. I swear it wasn’t. I just... I enjoy being around him.

Ugh... that’s the curse of being gay and trying to have guy friends. Everything feels like a landmine.

Finally, he came back and leaned toward me.

“Sorry, but I don’t know, man... I’m not really a fan of parties. Too many people. I don’t even know a lot of people from school yet...”

“I completely get it. Honestly, I don’t even remember the last time I've been sober at a party. Usually, I just go as an excuse to get hammered.”

Why did I keep embarrassing myself? I don’t know. I guess I thought it might make him feel better?

“But, you know... we could just keep each other company. And I swear, I'll stay sober this time. Might even tick something off my bucket list: surviving a party sober for more than twenty minutes.”

Chris chuckled, his shoulders relaxing just a little.

“It would be an honor to witness that kind of prowess.”

For some reason, that made me laugh. It wasn’t that automatic laugh I’d gotten used to faking. This one was real.

In the end, he agreed to come. And I was a little stunned. Flattered that he’s willing to make the effort just to hang out with me.

And here I am, writing about how I’m still reeling from the fact that someone like him actually wants to spend time with someone like me. And yeah, maybe that means more than I want to admit.