a/n: GUYS I'm sorry but this chapter is going to ahhh you. I mean, from what you've read so far, just... prepare yourself.
@exoticfinn this is so freaking for you.
I don't say much to anyone once we're back home. Mom begs me to watch a movie with her in the living room to lighten up, but I decline nicely, and retreat to my room. Aiden joins me half an hour later with a pack of donuts and a can of beer.
"Really, kid. Do you know whose house you're in?" I ask softly. She shrugs, handing me the food and drink. "Thanks." I wonder how she snuck the beer inside, but I won't ask.
"Anytime." She sits on the edge of my bed, facing Satan-Roger. He just glares at her, unmoving. In a few days, I'll have to feed him. I suppose I'll let Aiden do it.
I'm tempted to ignore my phone as it dings.
Shelby: call me? What happened?
Brandon: I'm just tired. No biggie. your house is nice, tho.
Shelby: ...
Shelby: ok thanks.hey i'll see you tomorrow I guess. Good luck @ the game. Get some sleep.
Brandon: definitely. Goodnight
"I just spent twenty minutes looking up 'bisexual' online. You're probably bi. Don't let those assholes convince you otherwise," Aiden finally says. I haven't touched the donuts, so she opens them up for me. "Brandon, I'm serious. I don't think that bi isn't a real thing, you know? They're just trying to find a reason to hate you. If you were straight they'd hate you for that. If you were gay they'd say you weren't... I don't know, 'gay enough' or something. I think they just hate that Shelby has way cooler friends than they are. You don't actually believe that, do you?"
"I don't know, Aiden," I sigh. "It makes sense, you know? I've barely had a girl on my mind since I've kissed Conner. I mean for goodness sakes, Logan... I'm just so confused. And I fucking hate that word because people think all bisexual people are confused but I am and I have no way of getting around it. It's gotten to the point that I don't even want to room with any guys tomorrow because I'm afraid I'll stare or freak them out or something. And that really fuckin' sucks, you know?" I feel my lungs get heavy and thick, as if my problems somehow become physical and pile on my chest one by one.
Then there's that irksome stinging of unshed tears that I've felt practically every hour since Dad told me what's been going on.
I bury my face in my pillow and groan, exasperated and angry, to avoid crying again.
"Brandon, you shouldn't ever worry about that," Aiden says softly. "Who needs labels anyway?"
I hurl the pillow across the room in a sudden rush of fury.
"Me! I need the labels and I-I need to know who I am and maybe I can't be strong like you and Shelby and even fucking Pipp! You guys can go through life not giving a shit and being your own person, but I give all the shits, you know that? I care so much and I want to know how I feel and maybe I can't figure it out on my own. Maybe I just want to put a word to the way I feel because I give a shit. That's what I want to do, okay? Who cares if bisexual is just a word? People like Jetta may think it means nothing-but you know what? I've gone through five years of school with people calling me 'gay boy' and 'fag' and those words mean something. I haven't gone a single day since I was fourteen without thinking there's something wrong with me because the kids at school call me names and my fuckin' dad ignores me and all I want is one freaking word, Aiden. I deserve it. Everyone else can think it's stupid to find comfort in a label but I don't."
The room is completely silent save for the whirring of the fan in the corner. I sit down on my bed. Well, there it is. Brandon Shay Owens, a fucking pathetic wannabe who can't live without someone telling me who to be.
"You're right," Aiden whispers, finally. I think my fit of rage scared her a little, but she knows me. She knows I always come back down, ever since we were little. "We all want labels, every single one of us. The people that say labels aren't important want to be labeled as confident and content. It's just a reverse process. I feel you, Babylon."
"I'm sorry," I groan into my hands.
"For what? For wanting to know all the answers? That has been the Brandon I've known since we were five years old; nothing new," Aiden sighs, taking the ponytail out of her hair. "I tell you what? You go on and get that football shit out of the way and then we'll have a good, long talk. Maybe invite Shelby?"
I shake my head. Shelby is awesome, but there's a reason he didn't tell us about his girlfriend, and if I think about it too much, that'll be another thing I can't deal with. Another thing I'll want to know all the answers to.
"Just you and me, I think. It's probably best if I sleep on it, though," I sigh. "I'm sorry, Aiden."
"Would you quit apologizing? Gosh, wanting to find out who you are isn't something to apologize for, Babylon. Get some sleep, Loser." With that, she leaves, closing the door after her.
I sigh. Everything has to be so complicated nowadays. "Just you and me, Satan," I mumble toward the snake. He stays coiled, looking off into the distance.
*****
"G-O! SAY GO! OH YEAH!"
Yikes, and I mean it.
Holding pep rallies is the worst thing a school can do for its athletes.
"F FOR FIGHT! SAY FIGHT! OH YEAH!"
Cheerleaders never turned me on. I always thought they were a bit too over the top. Our most popular girls aren't even cheerleaders. I mean, Hannah is pretty hot, and she's a cheer queen, but that's not why people like her.
"W-I-N! SAY WIN! OH YEAH!"
Hannah does a backflip thing, landing in the splits. Damn, she's flexible. Our Panther mascot dances around her while our crowd cheers. The JV and C team football players are in front, screaming for us. This will be some of them next year. The hype isn't all that.
Once the cheerleaders are done with their routine, Principal Evans hands the microphone to Coach Troy. Before she sits down with Janie, Hannah catches my eye and sticks a finger in her mouth, as if she's retching. I mouth 'same'. Pep rallies make me sick.
"This year, we're proud to take these twenty-eight boys to-"
Instantly, I tune out. We used to only do pep rallies when we were actually going to the state championship. Now, I suppose, we're just seeing how long we can last.
A bright light shines in my eyes from the crowd, as if someone reflects the sunlight from the windows off their phone. Sure enough, that someone is Christina. When I look at her, she makes her hands in the shape of a heart; Aiden, on her right, does the same. Janie on her left. I smile, shaking my head in disbelief.
After Coach Troy finishes his speech about how 'proud he is of us, win or lose', I hear some girls shout from the crowd: WE LOVE YOU, MITCHELL!
Sydney Mays holds up a sign with #13 in big, glittery font with two of her wannabes, and Stephanie has a giant sign with a number on it.
My number. Not Carter's.
Fuck.
Goodness gracious. I can already feel the laser blue daggers shooting from Carter's eyes into my own, but I don't dare look up, instead doing a quick check with my phone. I'm surprised to see a message from Shelby, considering how cold I was with him yesterday.
Shelby: Yo! Good luck, home dog. Hope I can call you home dog, home dog. Lookin' goooood ;)
Brandon: you're fuckin weird. Get outta here. we're not that close yet nd youre the farthest thing from gangster xP
Shelby: in all seriousness, good luck. Pipp says good luck, too. In her own special way.
Briefly, I glance around to find Pipp's blue hair and Shelby sitting right beside her. Shelby waves. I wave back. Pipp rolls her eyes.
Before long, Carter rounds us up to do our dumb, WC Pride chant to dismiss the pep rally. Thank god we won't have to wear these bro tanks and khakis for much longer, although they make my arms look great.
"Can't wait to get back," Mitch says out of nowhere when everyone starts to disperse. I simply shrug, choosing not to verbally acknowledge him. "First thing I'm gonna do is tear your cousin's pussy up."
"Do you wanna fuck me or something? That's the only explanation I have for you consistently trying to be on my dick all the time, Mitch," I snap. "Touch Aiden and I'll snap your arm in two."
He says nothing, instead letting his expression grow dark and menacing. "Stay the fuck away from my brother."
"Chill, dude. You're actually scaring me," I say, an edge to my voice that he picks up on instantly. "I haven't talked to Michael since-"
"I'm serious."
That was by far the weirdest encounter I've ever had with Mitch. Kissing him was more normal.
Just to top off all the bullshit, I see Logan and Violet holding hands as they exit the gym.
*****
"Freshmen sit in front," Marshall says blandly once Conner sits in front of him. The bus starts with a groan before settling into a dull roar.
"I'm literally the only Freshman on this team," Conner protests. Marshall shrugs. "Asshole."
"You're roomin' with me, gonna have to adibe by my rules."
"It's abide, idiot," Conner snaps before moving up three seats. He mutters to himself before plugging in headphones and bobbing his head slowly. Coach Troy stays outside, talking to the bus driver. Marshall beckons me over.
"That is the Conner we dug up dirt about, right?" he whispers, practically loud enough for the whole bus to hear. I'm glad Conner has his headphones in, or we'd be in deep shit.
"Yes, Captain Obvious and Loudness," I snap. "But you can't mention-"
"Move it, Gay Boy," Carter sighs. I'm so tempted to 'accidentally' elbow him in the gut, but I refrain, moving my phone and drawstring bag to the very back seat like a submissive little animal. Dammit.
It takes about five minutes for all twenty-eight of us to pile onto the bus, and by the time Matt sits by me, I'm fed up with half of the team already. Teenage boys are the epitome of chaos and havoc. Of course, to add to my pent up frustration, I see Tyler slide into the spot next to Conner. Well, I can do one thing right.
Without thinking much through but considering the fact that Coach Troy and our bus driver are still outside, I make my way over to Conner and Tyler with only one thing on my mind: stop.
"Hey, you guys-" I start lowly. I stop short when my eyes latch onto the sight of Conner and Tyler's fingers interlaced, Conner's thumb gently massaging Tyler's palm. You have to be kidding me. All this shit Conner put me through, me worrying about him and Tyler and him and his father and him in general, and he's holding hands with Tyler Elbert on the bus.
It has to be five full seconds before I find words to say again. "You guys might want to put your phones away," I cover. "I mean, if you have them. You remember, Troy took them away last time. Just a heads up."
Tyler's smile is smug, the cockiness reaching every portion of his face. "Thanks, Brandon. You're a real bro."
Conner sighs, "Tyler, don't be mean, please." I don't even wait for another response before storming off to the back again. Matt lets me sit by the window. I can't wait until this is all over. Until I can have all of my time to myself; try to fix all the messes I've made in these last few months.
The bus driver gives us the speech about safety and exits in the bus, which most of us ignore anyway. We're not twelve although we may act like it sometimes. So, he gives up half-way through, and heads us out.
It's quite cloudy today, so the bus is dark. I don't mind; the five or seven hour drive will be easier to sleep through. I'm sure half the guys here pulled irresponsible all-nighters, so I'm sure there will be lots of snoring within the next hour. I myself didn't get much sleep despite hitting the hay at 11:00.
It's fifteen minutes of silence and appreciation for getting the hell out of West Crimson before some sophomore decides to draw a crowd up front with his handheld game, and most everyone begins to have side conversations. Girls, blah blah. Football, blah blah.
Matt angles toward me the tiniest bit. "Do you want to know something funny?" There's nobody in the seat beside us or in front, but he talks lowly and carefully, accenting his words as if he's telling me something important.
I shrug. "This team sucks?"
"Quite literally, too," Matt chuckles. He gazes past me out the window, observing the buildings and people go by. "My mom said something weird to me the other day," he continues. "She said..." he pauses and cocks his head to the side, "that about one in twelve kids are queer in the U.S.... but in WC she thinks it's about one in seven. Isn't that just... weird?"
"Mhmm..." I mumble, not exactly sure what he's getting at. My shoulders are already tense and I can tell my nostrils are flared. My body slowly, but surely, goes into panic mode: heart beating rapidly and skin starting to sweat.
"I think that's just," Matt pauses, his hand inching toward the button on my jeans. Oh my god. Oh my god oh my god what is he- "a little too spot on, don't you think?" I don't have anything to respond with, so he keeps right on talking. "I mean... there are twenty eight teenage boys on this bus," he whispers in my ear, and his fingers linger over the button on my jeans before he undoes it with one hand, "and it just... makes sense, right?"
"I-I... Matt..." He can't do this. We're on the bus. Is he joking? Did Conner or Mitchell put him up to this to see if I would stop him? Because the plan is working. I'm frozen in place, unable to make out only a few words. It's like someone took an egg beater to the part of my brain that produces words.
So, I sit there, frozen and petrified but implausibly turned on while Matt freaking Evans unzips my jeans slowly, torturously, still breathing softly in my ear. What if someone sees us-
"There's Conner..." Matt completely unzips the flap in my jeans. "Tyler..." That's when he pulls away at the fabric on my now-visible boxers. "You..." His gentle fingers gently slip through the fabric and he grabs my half-hard cock- I just fucking let him because I'm so scared that I'm going to end up blowing our cover if I attempt to speak. "And me. Four out of twenty-eight. One out of seven. Right, Math Whiz?"
I nod quickly and shortly, my throat suddenly fighting to let out a deep moan but I can't. I don't dare. I can't even look at Matt, instead choosing to stare ahead, making sure nobody looks back here.
"God, you're just as big as Conner said you were," Matt whispers. "You want my mouth on you?"
"Matt, please don't-" my attempt is petty, because he simply cuts me off with a little click of his tongue.
"Yes? I bet you'd want my mouth on your big, meaty cock, right? So big in my fucking hand, Brandon."
This has to be a dream, like last time. The Matt I know, the soft-spoken and nice Matt I know, is straight and not this dirty. Matt is the good kid, principal's son that gets nice girls and barely drinks at parties and isn't afraid to be friendly to everyone.
But this Matt Evans is a dirty-talking cock sucker, and I freaking love it no matter how bad it is. This Matt Evans is all over me.
"...Is it?" I finally choke out. I don't have to look at him to know he's smiling. "You tell me."
"Yeah, it is. It really is. Really big... thick, too. But you know that, already, right? Wanna fuck my pretty mouth with your huge dick, Brandon?" Matt says, running his thumb along the tip and finally pulling me out of my pants completely. "I can't tell you how much I want your hard, hot cock down my throat, Brandon, my god." My adrenaline is through the roof, almost higher than when I made out with Conner for the first time in that storage room where anyone could walk in and see us.
My name is Brandon Shay Owens, and I am reckless.
I am also currently putty in Matt Evans' hands.
Well, hand. And definitely something harder than putty, but we all get the picture.
*****
I can honestly say that was 100% the best hand job I've ever received in my life. Better than Logan. Better than Christina.
Obviously, I didn't climax, because who wants to explain that mess on the bus?
I do have to wonder exactly what Conner told Matt, however. And this slight feeling of unfaithfulness is nagging at me, and won't let go. As if I'm still clinging onto the possibility of Conner and me or Logan and me... or even Chris and me.
Maybe I need to take this weekend off, stop thinking so much. I need to just let things happen. I want a label, but not right at this moment. Screw my dad for making me feel inadequate. Screw everyone who messed with my head. I may not know exactly what's right and wrong for me, but I should be able to figure it out without disrespect.
I simply need to do what I want to do without worrying about other people and past relationships. For goodness sakes, tomorrow is Halloween. I gave Logan a chance. I barely had a chance to give Conner. Chris and I? We're simply not compatible. Time to stop making excuses and just move on for at least two days. I can do that.
We ride for about an hour and a half before a few guys start complaining about using the restroom, to which Coach Troy sighs and asks the driver to find the nearest Burger King for lunch. Matt, after he finally stopped, is turned awkwardly away from me in the seat, as if he doesn't want to talk. I'm not going to ask.
Matt quickly exits the bus, not even giving me a second glance. Maybe that's all I'm getting from him. Either that, or it was a dare, and he's feeling weird that I let him carry through with it.
Nah.
What worse nightmare is there than having a bus full of twenty-eight boys enter a Burger King at lunchtime? Having a bus full of twenty-eight boys and another bus full of twenty something cheerleaders enter a Burger King at lunchtime. I mean, it's not like I'll ever work at fast food, but if I did... well, I'm pretty sure this'd be my time to quit.
The first thing I do is push past the giant crowd and head to the bathroom. There's a little something I need to take care of, by the way. It's a relief to find it halfway empty.
My zipline to the biggest stall is interrupted when I accidentally bump into someone. "Sorry," I quickly grumble. Of course, to my luck, a pair of bright green eyes stares me down.
"Huh," Michael says. "Funny seeing you here."
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A/N: I AM SERIOUSLY TRYING TO FIT ALL THE ACTION INTO HERE I'M SORRY. THE NEXT CHAPTER WON'T TAKE LONG TO PUBLISH BECAUSE A LOT OF THINGS ARE GOING TO HAPPEN SO PREPARE YOURSELVES. I LOVE YOU ALL FOR STICKING WITH THIS CRAZY STORY I MEAN IT.