Take A Chance On Me [boyxboy]

Take A Chance On Me {17}

                After Tate and I had accidentally kissed, I had hurriedly brought him home. We had stayed in an awkward silence the whole car ride, with Tate shooting me concerned looks occasionally.

                I had to distance myself from Tate. I couldn’t let myself repeat what had happened with Mike. I wouldn’t let myself repeat it.

                If Tate and I got any closer and I lost my temper around him, I’d never forgive myself. He would probably be initially hurt when I started to avoid him, but he would get over it quickly. After all, we had only started talking recently. It was better if I cut things off now, before we got too far.

                There was a knock on my door and then Cara let herself in. She came over to me and wrapped her hand around my wrist to pull me off of my bed.

                I jerked away from her and shot her a glare. “I can get up by myself, Cara.”

                She frowned deeply. “Callum…I thought you were getting better. Dad said you hugged him the other day! What happened?”

                “Nothing happened. Get out of my room. Tell mom and dad that I’m not hungry,” I said, turning away from her. I didn’t want to see my family right now. I just wanted to be alone. What if one of my sisters or my parents said something that made me mad and I hurt them? God, it would kill me if I ever hurt my family.

                Cara gave me a concerned look before slowly leaving my bedroom. I got up and locked my door before going back over to my bed and lying down.

                Like I had predicted, my door handle began to shake a minute later. Someone knocked on my door.

                “Cal, open up,” my dad’s voice called. “I need to talk to you!”

                I grabbed my earphones and put my iPod on shuffle, turning the music up loud enough to block out the sound of my dad’s voice. I rolled over so that I was facing the wall, trying not to think about the night I had slept in Tate’s bed.

                I just had to forget everything about Tate.

                                                                                                ***

                It had been a week since I had started avoiding Tate. Natalie and I still weren’t getting along, so I was back to sitting alone.

                Tate had tried to talk to me, but it was no use. I just ignored him and walked away from him. I wasn’t going to cave in, no matter how badly I wanted to talk to him. It was better for Tate if we just kept our distance.

                I was heading to my lunch table right now. I looked over and saw Craig standing in the hallway with some of his friends, laughing happily. He and Tate seemed to be back on strained terms.

                I shook my head and stuffed my hands in my pockets. It was no use to think about it. I was trying to protect Tate. A little pain now was better than a lot of agony later.

                But speaking of Tate, I looked up and spotted him sitting against the wall. He had his earphones in, and his head was resting on the wall. His eyes were closed.

                The first thing I noticed was how sad and lonely he looked. He opened his eyes to look down at his iPod, and it only intensified that sad and lonely expression. It just didn’t look right on Tate’s face.

                But the second thing I was noticed was the bruise on Tate’s cheek. It looked like someone had punched him incredibly hard. His sleeve had also pulled up just enough for me to see bruises in the shape of someone’s fingers on his upper arm.

                I only hesitated for a second before moving towards Tate. There was always the chance that his parents had physically hurt him, and if that was the case, I wasn’t going to be silent. I wasn’t going to let him get abused, especially not by his own parents.

                “Tate.”

                He looked up at me and shock took over his face. “Callum,” he said, pulling his earphones out and stuffing them in his pockets. He stood up and gave me a weak smile. “Talking to me again, I see?”

                “What happened to your cheek? And your arm?” I demanded.

                He shifted uncomfortably. “Uh…Eric,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze from mine. “He caught me alone in the boys’ bathroom. A janitor came in before he got to shove my head in the toilet though, so I guess that’s a good thing.” He shrugged.

                I felt anger rising in me. The kind of anger that had claimed me that day I had gotten in the fight with Mike. Uncontrollable and violent.

                I clenched my fists tightly, eyeing the bruise on Tate’s face. I turned away from Tate and stormed down the hallway to go find Eric.

                  I’m not going to let myself hurt Tate, or anyone else either.