Hamilton Prep

Chapter 6: Vitale- Ah, Hell-

I was in the cab of my car. My keys clasped tightly in my shaking hands. A cold sweat made my clothes cling awkwardly to my skin. Damn. His breath was still there. Brushing over my lips. A strong arm wrapped around my shoulders. Want. Need.

Shit, Vitale. PG thoughts. Focus!

I needed to go... somewhere. I didn’t know where, but I needed to go.

He knows that I’m gay, but he didn’t hesitate wrapping his arm around my shoulders like we were old chums. He figured out that I like him, and he leaned into me anyway. His hot mouth so close to mine. Right there.

I slapped my palms down on the horn of my car. It let out a pathetic, short-lived, beep that made me jump.

What is going on with me?

I shoved the key into the ignition with much more force than was needed. The car putted to life, and ice-cold air from the AC blew into my face. My fingers fumbled with the dials on the dash until I had the radio on. I didn’t ever listen to the radio normally. Too much crap on the airwaves, these days. But today, I simply couldn’t be bothered to care if a stupid song that I hated played. As long as there was something... I could keep my mind off of...

 

I arrived at the house at the end of Belvedere Avenue within an hour. The colonial-style cottage that stood there has been apart of the Nova family line ever since 1945, when my great-grandpa purchased it after the second world war. Now my mother lived here, and before seventh grade, and during the holidays, I lived here too. This was the only place that I really felt safe.

It didn’t take me long to reach the front steps, taking them two at a time to get to my front door quicker. I grasped the cold, hard metal of the knocker in my clammy fist and rapped against the wooden door. It was Saturday, and sometime after seven. I really wasn’t sure whether my mother would be home or not. She could have a ballet recital with the little girls, be out on a walk with Ink, our Irish Wolfhound, or she could even be on a date, even though that one was, by a large margin, the least likely. Ever since Dad died in ‘09, Mom didn’t do much besides go out with Ink and teach.

I rapped on the door again. There came was a deep, tremulous, growl from the other side of the door, and a “Hush, Inky!”

I smiled, and the door opened.

It took my mom a moment to recognize me, I think. But after a moment of confused staring, she yanked me into an enormous hug. One would think that  such a small woman wouldn’t be able to hug that hard, but Mom’s hugs have always been the same- bone-crushing, but always infused with love.

“Ohmygoodsweetlord, Vitale, honey, I’ve missed you!”

I coughed in an overdramatic sort of way and faked a strained gasp for air. She let me go immediately.

“Sorry.” She smiled, tucking a stray piece of her hair behind her ear. “Come in, come in!”

“You know mom,” I said while she lead me through the dark house, “Technically, I’ve only been gone for five days.”

“I don’t care, I always miss you when you’re gone.” She grabbed my hand as she flicked on the kitchen lights one-by-one.

“You’re such a sap, mother.”

She swatted my shoulder, “You are too!”

“Yes, and I get it from you.” I grinned, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.