He Says He's Just A Friend

Chapter 71 - Tolerate It

My whole body tensed as shards of ice shot through my veins. I was glad Clay didn't come with me.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

The exclamation had me frozen in mid-stride. My head whipped around to see Brandon advancing on the guy. I called Brandon's name, but he ignored me.

"I don't know—" The guy didn't even get out a full sentence before Brandon seized him by the collar and slammed him against a wall.

"Say something else about my friend, asshole." Brandon screamed in the boy's face.

I looked around at the crowd that gathered to gawk at the spectacle.

The guy stuttered, unable to find his words. His frantic eyes searched for help, but his friend had abandoned him.

"Buh-buh-buh." Brandon mimicked the boy's petrified face and quivering voice. "That's what I thought, little bitch."

"Brandon!" I barked, taking a step toward him. "Stop."

Brandon pulled the guy forward and slammed his back against the cement wall again. "If you ever say anything about Clay or his boyfriend again, you'll be shitting your own teeth. Got it?"

The guy nodded, his face contorted with fear.

When Brandon jabbed a finger at the guy's face, he flinched. Brandon chuckled menacingly. "Now that we understand each other, I want you to spread the word to all the douchebags dumb enough to be friends with you. Anyone who talks about my friends has to answer to me."

Once Brandon released the guy's shirt, he raced away, pushing through the crowd.

Brandon was smiling when he turned to me. "That took care of them."

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. "No, it didn't! Violence won't make them hate us any less. If anything, being humiliated like that will make him dig his heels in even harder."

"I was only trying to help." Brandon raised his hand out toward the frightened bully fleeing the scene. "What if Clay heard that shit?"

"You know what? Clay is going to hear that. And worse than that, probably. It sucks, and I wish I could protect him from it too, but it's going to happen. Someone, somewhere, is going to call him a sissy, or a homo, or a fag. Maybe even to his face. That's just the reality of his life now."

Brandon's face fell. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." I murmured as I turned and walked toward the stairs for our section, my stride swift and determined. I wanted to get out of there. Out of the spotlight.

Brandon raced to catch up with me. "Look, I don't like hearing people talk about my friends. And it's not just Clay. Like Tyler. He's the dumbest person I've ever met, and I remind him of it all the time. But if anyone else ever made fun of him, I'd kick their ass."

"I understand."

Brandon grabbed me by the elbow to stop me before I could get around the corner. "I know I'm not Clay's best friend. But he is my best friend. He's the person I go to when I really need to talk about real shit. He knows all my secrets. I feel bad that he thought he had to hide this from me until he didn't have another choice."

"I'm sure he would have told you, eventually." I said. "Coming out is hard. There's a voice in your head that tells you that no one will love you if they know who you are. That's like a billion times worse in a place where your neighbors and your relatives fight tooth and nail to make sure people like you don't have basic human rights."

Brandon pulled a strained face and shook his head. "See, I didn't think about any of that."

I started walking again. I sighed and looked over at Brandon with kinder eyes. He meant well. "Because you're a straight, white man. Not to mention the fact that you're attractive and rich. The world was basically designed for you to thrive."

"Can you please not tell Clay about this? I don't want him to be mad at me." Brandon looked like a wounded little boy, all sad, droopy eyes and pouted lips.

I didn't answer. I just turned and kept walking. I could feel Brandon on my heels, but neither of us spoke again.

At the base of the stairs, I looked up to our seats. Clay's head swiveled, surveying the crowd. He did a double take when his eyes passed over me. He sat up straighter, his lips stretching into a smile.

"What took you so long?" Clay asked as I sat beside him. He took the drink from me, sipping from the straw.

I glanced behind me at Brandon briefly. His brow creased with a pleading distress. I rolled my eyes and groaned. "The line was so long. And there were some jerks making trouble."

Clay tensed up and gripped my knee. "You're okay, though, right? They didn't mess with you?"

"They didn't say anything to me."

It wasn't a lie. They may have mentioned me, but they never spoke directly to me.

I held the nachos toward Clay. "Want one?"

Clay's wariness melted away. His easy smile returned. "I love these. Me and my dad used to eat them at like every game we went to." He ate one and moaned. "I'm so glad you got extra jalapenos. It's just not the same without them."

I leaned over to kiss his cheek and cozied up to his side, resting my head on his shoulder. I wouldn't let some bigots force me to hide my affection. Besides, I felt safe surrounded by Clay's friends. I suspected Brandon wasn't the only one who would jump on someone for messing with Clay.