A/N - Just a quick note. If you use the app and you're not comfortable commenting on a chapter, did you know you can always use a sticker to give an author feedback? The Wattpad stickers are supposed to be like emojis and allow you to give at least some feedback to the author about the story but still remain anonymous.
Honestly, I don't know if it helps a story as far as the algorithm or HQ, but I thought I should mention them if you weren't aware. And even though they'll never replace the emoji, using them as well might actually help the author and/or their story even more. Just something to think about. 🤷♀️
Okay! I'm done. Time for the story! Time for The OW!!
PREVIOUSLY: Patrick, Aidan, and Farid had high-tailed it out of the Kikatua Shifter compound because they were being set up to participate in a knock-down, drag-out, Fight Club style ceremony. How do you think Aidan would have fared in that one?! Now, they're headed home, but they've been forced to make a pit stop, that--although it starts off innocent enough--in subsequent chapters will go horribly, horribly wrong. 😱
**********
Aidan, Patrick, and Farid are standing in the lobby of a worn-down, mid-level hotel on the outskirts of a beach town, tucked far away from the freeway, along the Pacific Northwest coast. Caught in a rainstorm on their way back to the Academy from the Kikatua Shifter compound, they're still about two and a half hours away and the roads are slick and dark.
Patrick is on his cellphone, talking to Headmaster Pierce. He hangs up and turns to Aidan and Farid.
"Pierce says there are warnings to stay off the coastal highways tonight, but the weather should clear up by morning. He suggests we stay here overnight and head back tomorrow instead."
Aidan looks around the hotel lobby, taking in the peeling green, gray, and maroon floral wallpaper and the fraying brown furniture and purses his lips. "Great," he says, "just where I wanted to be on a Friday night."
Farid catches sight of some of the clientele--older, tired, scruffy, and just plain sad and adds, "Yeah, I'm not crazy about hanging out here all night either."
"I'm with you guys," Patrick says, looking up at the water stains on the ceiling. "Look, why don't we go ahead and crash here for the night, but we'll bounce and find some dinner, ASAP. Maybe even play a game of pool? I know of an upscale pub in the next town over, about ten miles away. We could go there. It's totally chill. Good food, good beer, and great pool tables."
"Yes!" Aidan pleads, clasping his hands together. "Can we do that?"
"That sounds excellent!" Farid says with a sigh of relief. "What do you say we drop our bags in our rooms, freshen up, and then meet back here in half an hour?"
"I'd say that's a plan!" Patrick hoists his duffel bag up over his shoulder and heads for the front desk to check them in.
***
Later, Patrick and Farid are waiting for Aidan in the hotel lobby, ready to head out to the pub. After about fifteen minutes of waiting, Aidan finally arrives.
He'd taken longer than the other two to get ready because he wasn't sure what to wear, especially to a bar or a pub.
Except for hanging out with his gamer friends and the occasional Comic-Con, Aidan didn't get out much, so he kept vacillating between dressing as he always does--in his worn-out jeans and whatever clean t-shirt was handy--or dressing up a bit, trying to look dope without looking extra.
For some odd reason, he really wanted to impress Patrick and Farid, let them see another side of him that wasn't quite so dorky. Unfortunately, he didn't manage to achieve his desired look in the end.
After trying on several different outfits, he finally settled on wearing a brand new pair of jeans, so crisp they looked like his mother just ironed them; a blue, green, and white plaid button-down shirt that only men over 40 should wear; navy-blue Chuck Taylors; and what looked suspiciously like a tan Members Only jacket from the late 1980s, lapels and all.
Compared to Patrick, who was wearing his favorite pair of Levi's, a gray Henley t-shirt, and an army green corduroy jacket his boyfriend, Stephen, bought for him, and Farid who was wearing his favorite Gorillaz t-shirt—a shirt he purchased at one of their concerts, not at a thrift store or an H&M—as well as his faded, black utilitarian motorcycle boots and leather jacket, Aidan definitely manages to stand out... but not in a good way.
Patrick and Farid, on their own, looked good. But with Aidan in the mix, they looked like two chill dudes, forced to take Franz, their third cousin once removed, out for a night on the town.
As Aidan nears, Patrick's nose crinkles in disgust. "What is that smell?" he complains, punctuating each word in protest.
Aidan stops cold, looks around innocently, and then looks back at Patrick and Farid. "What? What smell?"
"I don't know. I think it might be..." Patrick leans in and sniffs Aidan's neck, then snaps his head back as if he'd just been slapped. "Good gods, man! What did you do?! Bathe in a vat of Axe?!"
"What? What?!" Aidan lifts his shirt up to his nose and sniffs. "You think it's too much?"
Patrick covers his nose with the crook of his arm in answer. He shakes his head as if to fend off the odor, then looks over at Farid who doesn't seem to be nearly as affected as he is. Although Farid's eyes are watering, Patrick can't tell if it's from the offensive smell or from Farid trying his best not to laugh.
Vampyrs! Of course they'd find this whole situation funny. But with his sensitive sense of smell, Patrick fails to see the humor in any of this.
"You..." He jabs a finger at Farid. "...are riding shotgun." He whips around to face Aidan. "And you..." he says through gritted teeth, in no mood to argue, "...are riding in the back seat, with your jacket zipped up to your chin, and both windows rolled down the entire time!"
"Now," Patrick huffs as he turns on his heels, "let's get the hell out of here before someone passes out!"
***
The rain has finally stopped, and Farid, Patrick, and Aidan are standing in a parking lot across from The Sticky Wicket Public House, a turn-of-the century pub that sits on the outskirts of town. The weathered exterior of the building, the dimly lit sign, and the thick blanket of fog rolling in from the ocean, encasing the pub like a blanket, give the establishment an air of mystery and a definite appeal.
As the boys cross the street, Patrick sucks in a deep breath, feeling unusually nervous.
While Ava and Jake know that he's gay, he hasn't come out to any of the other students at the Academy, and he really has no clue whether or not Farid or Aidan might have personal, cultural, or religious objections to his orientation.
Before entering the pub, Patrick pulls the boys aside, clearing a path for the other patrons, and letting them pass by. But there are still too many people hanging around out front, so he signals for Farid and Aidan to follow him to the side of the building so they can talk privately. Once there, he leans back against the brick wall and says, "Okay, so there are two things you guys need to know about this place before we go in." He holds up a finger for emphasis. "One, the clientele is largely human."
Farid and Aidan look at each other then nod, completely nonplussed by the news.
"Great," Patrick says, then he straightens and inhales deeply, letting his breath out slowly, the cold night air making it visible as he exhales. "So, the other thing is," he pauses for a moment then continues, "the clientele is also mostly gay."
Farid keeps nodding, perfectly fine with this second bit of news, but Aidan's head slows and then stills.
Patrick doesn't notice because he turns to Farid first. "You okay with that?" he asks.
"Sure." Farid shrugs casually. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Cool," Patrick nods, relieved. Then he turns to Aidan, who is staring vacantly down at his Chucks.
"Aidan?" Patrick asks, his voice holding a hint of caution, but Aidan doesn't respond.
Patrick bends over to try and catch Aidan's gaze, or at least better gauge his reaction. "Are you okay with that?" he asks again.
Aidan continues to stare down at his shoes for a few seconds longer, then raises his head and blurts, "Yeah, yeah, I'm okay with it, but you really ought to know I'm not gay."
Patrick straightens, blinking rapidly, caught off guard by Aidan's out-of-the-blue confession. He shoots Farid a puzzled look, but all Farid can do is shrug back in response. It seems he's just as confused by Aidan's random declaration as Patrick is.
Patrick turns his attention back to Aidan. He looks at him for a while, then warily says, "You know, you don't actually have to be gay in order to enjoy the absolutely awesome sliders and libations they serve here."
He cracks a slow smile for Aidan to see when he looks up in an effort to put him at ease.
"I get that part," Aidan says, hunching up and tucking his hands deeper into his pockets. He kicks at the gravel beneath his feet. "It's just that everyone thinks I'm gay." He shakes his head. "But I don't think I'm gay."
"Okay... That's fine..." Patrick says slowly, not sure why he has to repeat himself. "Like I said before, you don't have to--"
"But..." Aidan exclaims, inadvertently interrupting him. "I don't think I'm not gay either."
Patrick blinks, confused, not sure where Aidan's going with this or what on earth this has to do with dinner. He scrunches his face in concern. "Aidan," he says. "I'm not sure I'm following your--"
"Actually," Aidan raises a finger and continues, now pacing and speaking more to himself than to the other boys.
"Actually!" He repeats, louder this time, then stopping mid-stride, he finally gives up and throws his hands in the air. "I don't know what the hell I am!"
He begins to pace again. "It's always bothered me. Everyone else thinks they know what I am, but I have no clue. And the reason I have no clue is because I hardly ever think about it!"
He stops and looks at Patrick and Farid as if he's just offered them a divine revelation.
Patrick and Farid stare back at him, not sure if they're supposed to be participating in this one-sided conversation or if they should just let Aidan get, whatever this is, off his chest.
After a moment, Farid asks, "So, the issue is that you never think about your orientation?"
"No, no!" Aidan dismisses Farid's question with a wave of his hand. Then in response to the boys' befuddled expressions, he cries out, "Sex!"
At that exact moment, a group of guys in their twenties pass by. They give the boys arched eyebrows and amused side-eyes as they head into the pub.
The boys cringe in response, Aidan the hardest having realized he'd said that far louder than he'd meant to.
He leans in and lowers his voice. "Sex. I hardly ever think about sex."
"Ohhhh!" Both Patrick and Farid lean back and cry out in unison, finally making sense of Aidan's stream-of-consciousness thinking.
"Yeah. See, that's the problem," Aidan says, his voice returning to normal. "I don't think I'm built like everyone else. Well, certainly not like other kids our age. I don't get all..." his hands flutter in a gesture running up and down his body, "I don't get all hormoney and stuff."
Confused, Patrick quirks a brow. "Horny? You mean you don't ever get horny?"
"No! Not that!" Aidan scolds him, rolling his eyes and huffing out a beleaguered breath as if he's trying to explain quantum physics to a six-year-old. In fairness, though, he reconsiders. "Well, actually, that too, but it's more than that." He takes a moment, then says, "I don't get agitated by, or excited by, or obsessed with sex. I don't think about it. I don't talk about it. I don't even crave it. I don't know." He shrugs. "I just don't feel those sorts of feelings." He looks at Patrick and Farid, his face crumpled and sad, his expression disheartened. Then he looks down at his shoes and mutters, "Maybe there's something wrong with me."
Patrick and Farid exchange quick concerned glances, both thinking the exact same thought. Damn! This got really deep, really fast!
Patrick sighs, then reaches out and rests a gentle hand on Aidan's shoulder. "Dude," he says softly. "Look at me."
Aidan is reluctant to make eye contact, but finally relents.
"There's absolutely nothing wrong with you," Patrick says sincerely. "Your sexual orientation, believe it or not, isn't all about sex. It's about attraction. It's about chemistry. It's about comfort and companionship. It's about so much more than the actual act itself."
"Yeah," Farid chimes in helpfully. "And just like our ideals, our values, our hopes, and our fears, it often evolves. What you want today may not be what you want tomorrow. And conversely, who you are tomorrow may not be who you are today."
"Exactly!" Patrick declares. And while he doesn't have a younger brother, he somehow still feels as if he's just survived 'The Talk'."
Aidan nods and gives them both a relieved grin. "Thanks guys," he says. "The whole thing has been really stressing me out lately. And everyone else seems to already know who they are and what they want. So, I guess I was starting to feel left behind."
Patrick pats him on the back. "It's a different journey for everyone, so don't sweat it! If, at some point, you want it, go for it. It doesn't matter who you're vibing for. And as long as it's consensual, and you make smart choices, and everyone's on the same page, it's all good." He shrugs and gives Aidan a warm, but pleading, smile. "So, can we go get something to eat now?"
"Yeah! Let's do this!" Aidan nods as he whoops and thrusts a fist into the air.
They all head for the front of the pub, but right before they hit the door, Aidan pulls back.
Patrick looks at him in a panic. "What? What happened? Did we miss something? Was there more we needed to talk about?"
"Oh, no, no. It's not that." Aidan shakes his head and says calmly. "I just forgot to ask if there was going to be any dancing? Because, you know, I don't dance. Seriously. Me dancing is not a pretty sight." Rolling his eyes, he chuckles. "I mean, if I absolutely have to, I can certainly muster up an enthusiastic knee bend, punctuated by an occasional snap." He bends his knees and snaps to demonstrate. "And, if I'm really into the music, I might just slide into 'The White Guy Spaz.'"
"The what?!" Patrick and Farid ask, simultaneously.
"Oh, you don't know it?" Aidan says off of their blank looks. He takes a few steps back, and then without warning, he bites his bottom lip, leans back, bends his knees, and sort of flails his arms wildly like a robot gone haywire, almost taking Patrick's eye out in the process.
"Hey! Watch it!" Patrick cries as he ducks out of Aidan's way.
Then just as suddenly as Aidan started, he stops, shoving his hands back into his pockets. He looks over at the other boys and says, "It's actually kinda fun to do, but I try not to break out that move too often because, well..." He tips his head towards Patrick as an example. "...as you can see, people get hurt."
Patrick laughs and shakes his head, in genuine amazement at the things that come out of Aidan's mouth.
As he holds the door open for them, he says, "Dude, it's a pub, not a nightclub. I think the populace will be safe for the evening."
**********
I'd love to know if you had a favorite part of the chapter! Or even what you think might happen next.
In any case, see you next week!
~ Paula ❤️