There’s a stunned pause. “Are you…drunk?”
“What about it?”
“Sam,” My name is a hiss through the receiver, and it raises the fine hairs at the back of my neck. I’ll never, ever admit it, but it turns me on too. Dean’s hot when he’s pissed, if only because I know he won’t raise a harmful hand at me. Oh my God, no, he’s not hot, he’s a teenager. Maybe I should kill myself. “Where are you? Who are you with?”
He sounds…worried, genuinely. I don’t have the heart to torture him. “I’m with my uncle upstate.”
“Upstate where?”
“Ha! Like I’d tell you that.”
His sigh rattles the tiny bones in my ear canal. “When are you coming back?”
I blink at the open rafters in the ceiling. My eyes feel like cotton balls. I must be taking too long to answer, because he snaps my name down the line again. “I don’t know.”
“You can’t stay away forever.”
“I know that.”
“…why’d you leave?” The quiet question shakes me.
“Because, I…” Gritting my teeth, I try to string together the right reasons. “…it was the right thing to do. You never listen to me, you don’t take me seriously. I’m just…trying to do what’s best.”
“Don’t you think I should hear this shit in person?”
I snap to a sitting position, glaring holes through the sheet. “You have heard it in person! Multiple times, Dean! You ignore everything I say! This has to stop, you need to start seriously thinking about the future. I’m not in it!”
He scoffs, and it’s full of acid. “You’re such a fuckin’ coward, Sam. Come home and say it to my face.”
Shockingly, he disconnects the call. I didn’t expect him to hang up on me, not in a million years. But, I know exactly what he’s trying to do. He’s baiting me. If he makes himself sound reasonable, then I might believe there’s a chance he’ll actually listen this time. He wants me to come home so he can pluck my strings in person, because he can’t do it over the phone. He’s right, though. I can’t stay away forever. I barely like Rodney, I can’t stand this suffocating guest house, and there are things that need doing at home. This time, this time I’ll be firm.
Of course, he’s waiting for me. I almost have a panic attack pulling into my driveway, my headlights brightening up Dean lounged in my wicker furniture. It’s my own fault for caving. I told him I’d be back by Friday via text after he kept spamming me. Fortunately, it’s late, dark. His truck isn’t in front of my house, at least. I strangle the steering wheel and cycle some deep breaths before exiting the car. Snatching my bag from the backseat, I make the walk towards my front door like a man holding his head high as he ascends the gallow’s steps.
Dean lifts from the chair, watching as I violently unlock my front door. Neither of us say anything for an uncomfortably long time. He comes in behind me, locking the door, and I almost expect to be grabbed and hatefucked like when he had his tizzy over Jamie. That doesn’t happen, and it’s…unsettling. Instead, he moves through my home like it’s his. He flips the table lamp on in the living room and drops into the couch, while I busy myself in the kitchen with nothing of importance. I chug a glass of water, waiting for the shoe to drop.
He’s waiting for me to drop the shoe, apparently. Hardening my resolve, I join him in the living room, but I can’t bring myself to sit. I loiter in front of the couch, resisting the urge to pace. He’s…throwing me off, hard. He almost looks bored, and it’s making me feel crazy. Is that all it took? A week of distance, and he’s over it? When it’s clear I’ve become temporarily mute, he waves a flippant hand through the air.
“I’m here, so say it.”
Oh. It gives me the lucidity I need, if nothing else.
“This…has to stop.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” I snap. “You said it yourself, just until summer, until you can get it out of your system. That’s what I agreed to. Well, it’s summer now, you’ve graduated. I can’t keep doing this with you, not when I don’t even know if you’ve made a single fucking plan for–”
“I’ve accepted an athletic scholarship out of state.” He interrupts.
I pull back, stunned. He’s…taking this remarkably well, better than I could’ve dreamed. I’ve asked him repeatedly about his application status, where he hopes to attend, which universities might have already reached out. He brushed me off every time, and I was starting to worry he’d been putting it off because of…well, me. I was afraid he’d been living in a fantasy land, or that he’d go so far as to skip college and take up some local, dead end job to stay close. He doesn’t know I’m leaving, and I absolutely cannot let him squander his future over this…ridiculous crush.
But, if I’m truthful with myself, it hurts. I shouldn’t be bothered, but I’m still human. We’ve spent a lot of intimate time together. Dean’s treated me better than any partner ever has. He can be clingy and pushy, sure, but when he behaves that way, it’s like a constant reminder of how much he likes me. He acts like it physically hurts him to be apart. He looks at me like…the sun rises and sets out of my ass, like I’m the only thing that matters. No one has ever, ever made me feel so desirable, cherished, and…loved. It blew my mind in the beginning, and I’m still blown by it now.
Dean is so, so, so far out of my league. He’s gorgeous, talented, funny, kind, and smart in his own way. He could have anyone he wanted, go anywhere he wants to go, be anything he wants to be. I still can’t understand why he acts so lovesick over someone like me, but now–was it…is it truly over? Has it finally worn off? He got it out of his system, maybe, like he said he would. He’s realized who exactly he is, and who I am. I suppose thinking he’d forgo college to pine after me was only the musings of my overinflated ego, one he created.
I’m relieved, but also unbearably…sad. Despite the constriction in my chest, I force a little smile. “That’s…that’s really great, Dean. I’m so glad. You don’t have to tell me where if you–”
“CSU, Fresno.” He says just as casually, leaning back. He folds his arms across his chest, watching me.
California…?
…Fresno?
That’s…less than hour from where I’m attending–
“…you knew?” I whisper.
He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t have to. His placid expression, his lazy sprawl. He’s been…waiting for a reaction. In my mind, there’s a hundred-thought pileup, but the anxious ones outshine anything positive. I fling my arms out, unable to stop the wild gesticulation. “What the hell is wrong with you, Dean?! This…this is your fucking future, and you just picked some random school in California?!”
He shrugs. “It wasn’t random. Fresno is one of the best D1 schools in the state, and I’m too stupid for Berkeley.”
How does he know? When did he find out? I don’t think he’ll tell me any of this if I ask. He looks so…unbothered, and I can’t wrap my brain around the idea that he’s trying to follow me across the country. There’s no fucking way it’s a coincidence, and over-the-top bullshit like this is on brand for him.
“What…what the fuck are you hoping for? We can never be a normal couple, Dean! No one’s going to congratulate us, or even approve. I mean, haven’t you thought about any of this? No big wedding, no kids! How many professional football players are in an openly gay relationship?!”