Yesterday was a mess.

It was around midnight, and I was just about to hit the hay when my phone vibrated loudly on the nightstand.

 

Jamie: Hey, Pretty Boy! Wanna hang out?

Me: Now? It’s fucking midnight. I’m still grounded.

Jamie: C’mon. I’m outside.

 

Ugh...

It had been more than a month since he first told me we should hang out. I hadn’t expected him to follow through, and definitely not like this.

I hesitated, standing barefoot in the dark, until a small pebble tapped against my window.

Shit. If I didn’t go, he was going to wake my parents.

Another pebble.

Okay, okay. I’m coming.

I threw on a coat and cracked the window open.

Mom and Dad have no idea how easy it is to climb out of there, and if it’s up to me, they never will.

At the end of the street, Jamie’s red muscle car sat waiting, parked just far enough to be cautious. I’d heard his dad was some loaded, high-profile lawyer, the kind of guy you don't want to owe anything to. That fact alone made the black tinted windows feel less like a flex and more like a warning.

I jogged over and slid into the passenger seat.

“It’s late,” I said. “What are you doing out here?”

“My dad came back from a business trip. Let’s just say he wasn’t in a good mood.”

His voice was bitter. Not the fun, sarcastic kind—the kind that tastes like burnt toast and held-back tears.

I didn’t press. Conversations about his dad always dead-ended in a silence that felt heavy and wrong. And a gut feeling told me I didn’t want to know the details anyway.

“Where are we going?”

“Wanna show you something.”

We made small talk on the way, nothing important. Just noise. After a while, I realized we were heading toward the hills. I didn’t come out here often. But I was kind of glad. It felt like going somewhere new meant I could be someone new, too, just for the night.

It took about half an hour to get there. Jamie didn’t speed like I expected. His driving was surprisingly smooth. I appreciated that.

I get carsick sometimes, you know.

When we pulled into the empty parking lot at the top, he killed the engine.

The view was insane. The city stretched out below us like spilled glitter. A sea of lights. We got out and wandered toward the edge.

“You come here often?” I asked.

“Yeah. It’s quiet. Sometimes I stay ’til sunrise. It looks pretty sick.”

I wondered if Jamie felt lonely like me, even though he was always surrounded by people.

When we reached the edge, my stomach twisted. The drop was steep, and the silence loud.

“You know what the call of the void is?” Jamie asked.

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s like when you get to the edge of a high place and feel the urge to jump. Or wonder what would happen if you jumped. Intrusive thoughts. Ever felt it?”

“Sometimes. Not about jumping... more like... driving straight into a wall.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Or punching Benson. Or kissing Ryan.”

I tried to lighten the mood. Because the truth was... sometimes I do want to jump. Just to make the noise in my head stop.

“Want one?” Jamie asked, holding out a cigarette.

“I’m trying to quit.”

“Right, that makes sense. So that’s why I haven’t seen you at the bleachers.”

I nodded. He lit his cigarette.

The craving slid beneath my skin—sharp, warm, and stupid.

I wanted one. No. I needed one.

One won’t kill me, right?

“Actually... can I have one? Just one.”

Except one turned into two.

And soon we were heading back to the car.

Jamie slid into the back seat and pulled a half-full whiskey bottle from under the front seat.

“No way, dude,” I said. “You’re driving.”

“Nah. You are.”

Before I could argue, he’d already taken a swig.

“It’s too late now, Pretty Boy.”

He smirked and rested his hand on my thigh. I shoved it away.

“Mature, Hudson. Real mature. You’re starting to drive me nuts, you know?”

“Tell me more about how I make you feel. I like it.”

“I didn’t mean it in a good way.”

“You should stop lying to yourself, dude. It’s not healthy.”

He took another swig.

“Shut up, Jamie. You’re such a dick sometimes.”

I snatched the pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit another one, just to deal with him.

“Yet here you are.”

I blew smoke in his face. He didn’t flinch. Just looked amused, and I hated myself for being turned on.

He had a point, though. Why was I even there?

Jamie threw an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him. I let my head rest there. Too tired to fight it.

How many people had sat here like this?

Half the school?

The thought made me sick.

But can I really judge him? I’m no better. And at least Jamie gets me. Probably better than anyone else. We’re both just drifting away. Surrounded by vices and bad choices...

“So... what’s Chris’s deal, anyway?” he asked suddenly.

Chris’s name pulled me back to reality.

“What about him?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how bad he wants you to bend him over that counter and—”

“What the fuck, Jamie?!”

...Does he, though?

Maybe I wouldn’t mind that.

Or the other way around. I think.

What? What the fuck am I even thinking?

“What? It’s true. My gaydar’s never wrong.”

“Bitch, please. And stop antagonizing him. He thinks you’re obnoxious.”

“I like how feisty he is. But he’s kinda mean.”

“Can we not talk about him? He’s my friend. It’s weird.”

“Sure.”

“Speaking of gaydar... there’s something dodgy about Ryan, right?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell. But he’s an asshole, especially to you, so who cares?”

Jamie leaned back, more relaxed now. “There was this night, a couple of years ago, we were talking about blowjobs...”

“Don’t ask me how the conversation landed there. We were both kinda drunk. But let’s just say he got his curiosity satisfied.”

“Ah! I knew it.”

“That closet’s got a deadbolt on it, let me tell you.”

“Figures...”

Jamie snorted a pill, chasing it with another swig of whiskey. Then he leaned in, eyes locking on mine.

“You know... I’ve always thought you were hot.”

My face burned, but I didn’t move.

“And the fact that you play hard to get? Drives me crazy.”

So I kissed him.

Because I’m weak as hell.

Because he tasted like whiskey and tobacco and poor choices.

And I just didn’t care anymore.

If I didn’t stop, I’d regret it.

But wasn’t this what I wanted?

Someone to take the edge off, to help me stop thinking about Chris?

It took everything in me to pull away.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m never sober, Troy.”

And suddenly, I was drowning in sadness—his, mine, ours.

I kissed him again, feeling his piercing graze my tongue. And I wondered how it would feel somewhere else...

But then Chris flashed across my mind.

Come on... I tried to focus on what was happening now.

Jamie’s hand slid up my thigh, fumbling with my belt buckle.

Maybe I could keep my eyes shut and pretend he was Chris.

And that thought alone made me groan—quietly, shamefully.

Shit. Nope, nope, nope.

I didn’t want this.

Because right at that moment, it was either Chris... or no one.

“I can’t, Jamie. Sorry.”

My voice sounded wrong—too small, too unsure.

I pushed at his shoulders, gentle at first.

“C’mon, dude... just relax.”

His hand tugged at my belt again.

“I said stop!”

This time, I shoved him off me. Hard.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“What the fuck is wrong with me?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! I thought you wanted this!”

I yanked the door open and spilled out of the car, fumbling with my belt, fingers shaking.

Jamie glared at me from inside, pissed. Probably not used to rejection.

I threw myself into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut.

“Maybe I don’t want it.”

“Yeah? You didn’t sound like you didn’t.”

Dick.

I ignored him, starting the car.

“I don’t want it.”

“Why?”

“Because I just don’t, okay? Stop being such a little bitch about it.”

Jamie kicked the back of my seat.

“Fuck you, Troy!”

“If you don’t chill the hell out right now, I swear to God I’ll throw your ass out and leave you here.”

He slumped back, seething but silent.

I drove him home without a word.

I felt bad for him. He was being an asshole, yeah. No means no. But I also knew what was crawling behind it, and I was feeding into it.

Maybe I should’ve just stayed and talked, cracked some dumb jokes to distract him. Just so he wasn’t alone.

But instead, I was selfish and started it.

One thing about Jamie: he never kisses first. He might flirt a bit—okay, a lot—but that’s just it. So... I kinda felt responsible.

As soon as I parked in front of his house, he stumbled out without looking back.

And I just sat there, frozen.

Part of me wanted to chase after him. To shake some sense into him. Or maybe just to hug him.

But another part, a darker part, wondered how easy it’d be to slip away too.

To let myself fall into whatever numbness he was chasing.

I pushed the thought away.

But it stayed. A quiet, lingering shadow.

I walked the rest of the way home. The cold night air cleared my head a little.

 

***

 

When I finally climbed back into my room, I peeled off my clothes and shoved myself under the blankets. But I couldn’t stop tossing and turning.

So I just gave up, picked up my phone, and finished what Jamie started.

By myself. Again.

Otherwise, I knew I wouldn’t fall asleep.

And still, I couldn’t fucking shake Chris out of my head.

And then it hit me.

The thing I’d been trying not to admit, not even to myself.

I don’t have a crush on him.

I’m in love with him...