Swing for the Fences

by Little Buddha

Chapter 16

As soon as the bus rolled to a stop in front of Harrison West, I barely waited for the doors to open before grabbing my bags and sprinting – well, half-sprinting, half-lumbering – toward Linden Hall. The wheels of my suitcase clunked violently over the walkway bricks, and my backpack dug into my shoulder, but I didn't care. I needed to see him.

I needed to see Jack.

The front door swung open with that familiar creak, and I barreled inside – right into Mr. G's sturdy frame.

"Whoa, slow down, hotshot," he chuckled, blocking the stairwell like a cheerful bouncer. "Happy New Year! How was break? Did you get your fill of turkey and awkward family conversation?"

"Yeah, yeah," I said quickly, trying not to sound rude. "It was good. Really good."

Mr. G arched a brow. "You look like a man on a mission. What's the rush?"

I forced a polite smile. "Just excited to unpack. And, you know, see everyone."

He nodded slowly, suspiciously. "Mmhmm. Alright, well, don't forget – we're doing a little dorm pizza thing tonight, okay? You're not off the hook for socializing."

"Got it," I said, already halfway up the stairs. "Thanks, Mr. G!"

When I opened the door to my room, I froze.

They were all there – Mark, Emery, Jonah, Jack, and even Landon from across the hall – sitting cross-legged on the floor, shoes kicked off, the remnants of a snack bag spilled between them like they hadn't moved in hours. Everyone was there except Christian … and Noah.

And Jack. He was beautiful, that whole effortlessly sexy look that was uniquely him.

Jack was leaning back against the closet door, legs stretched out in front of him, a real smile on his face – one that actually reached his eyes – as Jonah launched into some absurd monologue.

"—and I said, 'No, sir, you look like the kind of man who's been banned from a Chuck E. Cheese for reasons that are definitely sealed in court documents.'"

The room exploded in laughter. Even Jack doubled over, slapping the floor with the heel of his palm.

I stood in the doorway, heart thudding.

Jack saw me and smiled wider. "Hey," he said simply.

"Hey," I said back, breathless.

We caught eyes for a second. It felt like gravity tilted. I wanted to run over and hug him so badly, but I knew I couldn't.

Eventually, everyone peeled off to unpack and get resettled. Jonah gave me a weirdly tight hug and then kissed Jack on the cheek with a dramatic mwah . "Happy New Year, lovebirds," he muttered with a wink. Then, with a theatrical twirl of his scarf, he vanished into the hallway.

And just like that, it was only me and Jack. Finally.

I dropped my bags and sat on my bed, not even trying to hide the way I was staring at him.

"So," I said carefully. "You doing okay?"

Jack shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, I'm back now. Feels good."

"What happened that night?" I asked. "When you called me. You never really said."

He looked down at his lap, fiddling with the drawstring on his hoodie.

"It's not a big deal," he said quietly. "He got drunk. I said something sarcastic. It escalated. It's fine."

"No, it's not," I said, sharper than I intended. "Jack, it's not fine. It's never fine."

"I know," he said. "But I don't want to talk about it. Not tonight. Please. I just… I just want to be here. With you. With everyone. This is the only place that feels like a real family."

I nodded. I wanted to say more. But I let it go – for now.

That evening, Mr. G hosted an impromptu New Year's pizza and board games night in the common room. The scent of cheese, garlic, and pepperoni filled the air (Little Caesar's, my favorite Detroit-style pizza!), and everyone was high on sugar and cheap, off-brand pop. Jonah insisted on a round of Candyland, and before I could escape, I was pulled into a game with him and Emery.

It was during a heated debate about whether Jonah had in fact cheated ("Colorblindness is NOT an excuse when you picked a card from the wrong pile!"), that I heard Noah's voice.

"Nick?" he said softly from the doorway.

I looked up. He looked older somehow, just in a week – his posture stiff, his cheeks red from the cold.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

I kind of would have rather stayed with my friends, but I stood, grabbed my coat – my new one, heavy and warm – and pulled on my gloves, beanie, scarf.

We stepped outside. The air was brutal. Snow had started to fall again, fat and quiet, settling over the campus like powdered sugar. The path crunched under our boots as we made our way to our tree.

Noah stopped beneath it. The branches overhead were laced in white, and the whole world felt still, like it was holding its breath.

"I missed you," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I love you, Nick. I mean that. I messed up. I pushed too hard. I didn't listen. But if you still want this – us – I'll do whatever it takes. I promise."

I looked up at him, snow catching in his hair, on his lashes. My heart was pounding.

"I do," I said. "I just… we need to slow down. In some ways. I'm not ready for everything."

He nodded instantly. "Okay. Slower. Whatever you need. I just want to be with you. I know I'm a screw-up, and I know I've hurt you and disappointed you. But I want to be the person you deserve. Just please give me one more chance to show you."

And then we were kissing. Gently, breathlessly, as snow fell around us. His hands were warm even through his gloves. Mine trembled.

I had missed this – missed him. The tenderness, the closeness. It was so easy to forget all the bad things when Noah looked at me like that. He knew just where to touch me, what to whisper to make me melt.

It would be so hard to ever say no to him. If Noah ever told me to jump off a bridge, I would probably happily do so. That's how bad I had it for him, even after everything that had happened to make me doubt him. I guess I was just a glutton for punishment.

By the time I made it back to our room, my heart was still fluttering. I opened the door and stepped inside … and stopped cold.

Jack was changing, his back to me, shirt off.

I gasped.

His skin was covered in deep red welts, angry and raw across his shoulders and spine.

He flinched at the sound, then spun around, eyes wide. He grabbed a shirt and yanked it down over his back like it was nothing.

"Jack," I breathed. "What the hell?"

"It's fine," he said, too quickly.

"That's not fine!" I nearly shouted. "What happened?"

He looked away. "He had a belt. He was drunk. I smarted off. It's not –"

"Don't you dare say it's your fault."

"I made him mad."

"That's not an excuse. That's abuse."

Jack was silent.

I wanted to scream. Or cry. Or find his father and –

"What about Spring Break? Or summer?" I asked. "What are you going to do then?"

"I'll figure it out," he said softly. "Don't tell anyone. Please. Don't tell Mr. G. Don't ruin this."

I sank onto my bed, my fists tight.

"Okay," I said. "For now."

I regretted it the second I said it. I should've told Mr. G. Jack was a kid; he didn't know how to handle something like this, nor should he have to. I had to stop enabling him. But I'd already made a promise, and I couldn't betray that. But, at least, he was safe with me now and his father couldn't hurt him here.

We showered separately. Brushed our teeth in silence. But as he was changing, I did manage to surreptitiously take a few photos of his back while he wasn't looking. Just in case I needed them for later.

Later, with the lights off, I was lying in bed, scrolling aimlessly through my tablet, when Jack's voice broke the quiet.

"Hey," he whispered. "Can I… sleep with you tonight?"

I looked up.

He was standing at the edge of my bed, arms folded across his chest, looking smaller than I'd ever seen him.

This hadn't happened in a long time, and I'd missed it.

I lifted the blanket. "Yeah. Of course."

He climbed in beside me, carefully, and lay still, his back facing me. But I could feel his warmth, the edge of his shoulder just touching mine.

I should've felt guilty. I had a boyfriend, who I'd apparently just made up with. My feelings were a mess. But none of that mattered in that moment. My best friend needed comfort, and I would give it to him.

Jack needed me. And maybe I needed him too.

Maybe I always would.

Jack and I weren't boyfriends. That needed to be said.

We were just… affectionate friends . Really affectionate sometimes. And yeah, we snuggled at night. Not all the time – just when things got bad. When the thoughts came. The dark ones. The kind that kept you awake long after lights-out. The kind that wrapped around your chest like a snake and whispered that you didn't matter. Those thoughts.

Jack had them too. Probably worse.

And while Noah could give me sweetness and kisses and tell me I was beautiful, he couldn't give me what I needed at two in the morning when my skin felt too tight and my brain wouldn't stop racing. Not without risking detention, or worse. Jack would never allow it anyway. I couldn't imagine him lying there silently while Noah crawled into my bed. It was unspoken, but real. That space between us – between Jack and me – it wasn't romantic, but it was sacred.

Or at least, that's what I kept telling myself. I wondered how long I could keep that ruse going, though, since people were already joking about Jack and me being "boyfriends" … well, Jonah, mostly, but still. But we weren't. I'd made that clear to both him and Noah. Jack and I had something unique and special. He was my best friend … who I was also attracted to … and maybe a little in love with.

By Monday morning, school was back in full swing, and the "gay table" in the dining hall had somehow grown again. It was starting to resemble a pride parade planning committee. Even Jack had finally started showing up again. He sat at one end of the table with Mark, trading inside jokes about album art and obscure indie artists. Mark worshipped at the altar of Britney Spears, convinced she was the blueprint for all female pop stars – while Jack, ever the contrarian, swore Fiona Apple was the real high priestess of emotional chaos and lyrical genius.

Meanwhile, Noah and I sat at the opposite end of the table, trying our best to be normal.

But I could see them – Jack and Noah – glancing at each other when they thought I wasn't looking. Nasty glances. Eyes narrowed, lips pursed, like they were in some Cold War standoff, and I was Berlin.

Jonah wasn't his usual chaotic self that morning. He slumped in his seat next to Jack, hood pulled over his curls, looking half-asleep. Still, he managed to wink at Jack a couple of times, which Jack pretended not to notice, but I saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

Midway through my pancakes, Emery appeared with a new kid in tow.

"Everyone," Emery announced grandly, "this is Danny. He just transferred here from L.A."

The boy nodded shyly. He was a little shorter than me, maybe five-four, with naturally olive skin and light brown hair that kept flopping into his eyes. He had that awkward-but-somehow-endearing energy of someone who knew they were cute but didn't quite know what to do with it. He also looked terribly innocent, which made me worry for him after he'd spent a few months at Harrington West.

"Hi," Danny said shyly, brushing hair from his forehead. His voice cracked halfway through the word, raspy and mid-change. That was… unfair.

Emery grinned. "Danny plays golf. And he's into theater. He's super cool."

Oh God, I thought. He's gay. The more experienced gays here would absolutely devour that kid. He was "fresh meat," as they say.

I offered a polite smile and a wave, trying not to stare. He was cute in that earnest, probably-a-total-geek way. Which I immediately decided I only thought because I was jealous. And confused. And not interested. Probably.

The last semester, I was always the "new" and "mysterious" gay kid. I'd gotten quite a bit of attention. But now there was an interloper here and I did not like it. Not one bit.

I whispered to Emery when Danny was distracted by Jonah stacking coffee creamers into a leaning tower.

"He's gay?"

"Yep," Emery said. "Why, you like him or something?"

I rolled my eyes. "I already have a boyfriend. And a… best friend. That's already complicated enough. I don't need more drama."

Emery just shrugged, sage-like. "Sometimes, the drama just finds you."

Great.

After chugging three cartons of chocolate milk like a man dying of thirst, Jonah seemed to reanimate. He launched into one of his trademark rants, this time about how public bathrooms should have mood lighting and curated playlists, and how he would install chaise lounges if he ever redesigned one. Jack giggled through his apple slices, and Jack was certainly not a "giggler."

I shook my head. The goblin had returned.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. Syllabi. Class rules. Homework already piling up. No one said this semester would be easy, and they were making sure we knew it.

That afternoon, at Chinese Club, our teacher announced we'd be reading Dream of the Red Chamber (in English translation, thankfully) – the most famous novel in Chinese history. Apparently, it was thick enough to kill someone with.

"It's three volumes," Emery said, practically vibrating. "And the main character – Jia Bao-yu – is at least bisexual . And there are gay scenes."

My ears perked up. "Wait, seriously?"

"Oh yeah. It's all very emotionally repressed and tragic and beautiful."

I leaned back. "Alright. I'm listening."

After prep, I was supposed to meet up with Noah. We'd texted about it. Just the two of us. But when I got outside, Jonah was there. Of course he was.

He was mid-rant about how he'd convinced his gym teacher that dodgeball was a form of state-sanctioned cruelty when Noah showed up, hands jammed in his coat pockets.

"Hey," Noah said. "I thought it was going to be just us tonight."

I turned to respond, but Jonah suddenly stood up like he'd just been possessed and shouted:

"I OBJECT!"

Noah and I both blinked at him.

Jonah jabbed a finger at Noah. "You don't get to be here."

"Excuse me?" Noah said, looking stunned. I would be, too, if I were getting berated by a puny middle-schooler with severe boundary issues.

"You heard me," Jonah snapped. "Go back to your room. Go beat off while salivating over yourself in the mirror or whatever."

My jaw dropped. Noah looked like someone had slapped him.

Jonah wasn't done.

"You're a jerk," he said. "And you've always treated Nick like crap. So just… stay away from him!"

There was a silence so loud it hurt, and Noah just turned around and trudged away, without saying a word.

I turned to Jonah, furious. "What the hell was that, Jonah?!"

He looked at me, eyes burning.

"Someone has to stick up for you since you won't do it," he said. "Might as well be me."

And then he spun around and stomped back toward Linden Hall, leaving me standing alone under the bare winter trees, completely stunned.

What the hell was Jonah's deal?

"Hey, it's your birthday in less than two weeks," Noah whispered to me over breakfast the next morning.

I didn't respond right away. After Jonah's bizarre outburst the night before, I had gone straight back to my room, climbed into bed, pulled the blanket over my head, and just hoped that sleep would be merciful. I hadn't even said goodnight to Jack. I couldn't face him. Or Noah. Or Jonah. It felt like more and more people were jumping onto the whole "Team Jack" bandwagon, like our connection was this big flashing sign that I couldn't control – and it made me feel awful. It probably made Noah feel even worse. Lately, it seemed like no one was on "Team Noah," except for probably Noah himself … and me.

"Yeah," I muttered, stabbing at my scrambled eggs with my plastic fork. "But I don't want to do anything for my birthday. It always makes me feel icky and awkward."

Noah gave me a pout. "Oh, come on, man. You have to celebrate your birthday. The Big One-Five. Since my birthday isn't for a couple of months, and you'll be fifteen now, I guess that means you're robbing the cradle!"

I rolled my eyes and looked across the table at Danny – the new kid – giggling at something Emery and Mark had just said. I hadn't heard the joke, but it must've been hilarious, because Danny was basically glowing. His perfectly floppy hair bounced every time he laughed, and his stupid olive skin looked like it had never seen a single zit in its life.

I was starting to really dislike this kid.

If he even looked at Noah or Jack the wrong way, I was going to break my brand-new Yonex racket over his head.

Jack was sitting on the other side of the table, trying to finish his Biology homework between sips of orange juice. Jonah, seated dangerously close, kept trying to distract him with a stream of bizarre commentary and half-whispered one-liners.

"You think Jesus ever tripped over his own robe and tried to play it off like he meant to fall dramatically?"

Jack snorted but didn't look up. Jonah grinned wickedly and flicked a grape at him.

I watched the two of them and wondered – what the hell is Jonah's deal? Normally, he was so chaotic-happy. But last night? He'd been… something else. Angry. Protective. Almost territorial. I needed to get him alone. Try to have an actual conversation. Figure out why he was suddenly out for Noah's blood.

That night, after another grueling two hours of prep – regularly interrupted by Jack's quirky, off-the-wall commentary, including a twenty-minute philosophical monologue about the ethical treatment of fictional monsters in Pokémon – I texted Noah.

Meet me behind the math building? Like now. Private.

A minute later:

On my way.

I threw on a hoodie and slipped out into the cold, avoiding Jonah's usual haunts. The math building had a small hedge-lined corner that barely qualified as private, but no one ever went there, and that was enough.

When Noah showed up, I was already waiting.

He walked up with his usual swagger, but his eyes were soft. He took my hands in his, gloves brushing against my knuckles, and we kissed – a lingering, slow kiss, sweet and quiet in the frigid air.

"Sorry," I murmured afterward. "About Jonah. I don't know what that was yesterday. He just went off for no reason, and I didn't know how to stop it."

Noah shrugged, his breath fogging between us. "Don't worry about it. I'm guessing he's just jealous."

I blinked. "Jealous? Of what?"

Noah gave me a look, and I knew the answer before he said it.

"Like I'm kind of jealous sometimes. About you and Jack."

"Oh."

It shouldn't have surprised me. People joked about us all the time. Our cuddling. Our closeness. Our emotional… whatever.

"It's hard," Noah said. "You and Jack – you have this thing. It may not be romantic, but it's deep. And everyone sees it. Even if they pretend not to."

I looked away, shame building in my throat.

Noah leaned closer. "But it's okay. This is the kind of place where lines get blurry. You're my boyfriend, and that's what matters. I don't care if some of the guys don't like me."

I nodded slowly. "I'm not even sure if Mark and Emery are still on your side."

"No big deal," he said. "At least I still have you . That's all I care about."

I wanted to believe that. I did love him. But my heart was so full of knots lately, I didn't know which threads belonged to who.

He kissed me again – softer this time – and when we finally pulled apart, the cold had completely settled in my bones.

"I should get back," I said.

"Yeah. Me too," he replied.

We said goodnight, and I returned to the dorm in a fog. Jack looked up from his bed as I entered, sprawled shirtless with his Spanish notes open in front of him.

"Hey," he said casually. "You smell like snow. Need help in the shower?"

"Shut up," I muttered, cheeks burning.

He laughed and rolled onto his side.

I took the world's coldest shower, partly to wash off the guilt, partly to calm the unmistakable stirring below my belt from Jack's usual nonsense.

When I returned to the room, towel around my neck, Jack was still shirtless, scribbling verb conjugations.

"Spanish test tomorrow," he muttered. "They should just let me fail with dignity."

"You say that every week," I said, plopping onto my bed and pulling out my phone.

We chatted for a bit – griping about class, teasing each other. Jack didn't see anything wrong with "Cute Danny," which only annoyed me more. I wasn't ready to admit my dislike might have roots deeper than rationality.

I opened up my chat with Jonah and started typing.

Why were you so hard on Noah last night?

He replied almost instantly.

Because I don't like him.

Why?

He thinks he's better than everyone. Like he's God's gift to gay boys.

You've barely talked to him.

I've seen enough. I don't like the way he treats you.

I stared at the screen, unsure of what to say. I hadn't expected Jonah to actually be serious .

Then:

It's lights out for middle schoolers. Gotta go. I love you.

And one more message:

Smack Jack's ass for me so I can live vicariously through you.

I snorted. Out loud.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," I said. "Just… Jonah being Jonah."

Jack smirked. "That rapscallion."

I put my phone away, turned off the light, and climbed under the covers.

"He did tell me I have to smack your ass for him so he can live vicariously through me," I chuckled.

Unexpectedly, Jack rolled over and pulled down his boxers, revealing his smooth, fleshy white butt. "Have at it!" he said, slapping his left butt cheek a few times.

Oh, what the hell?! I thought. I jumped out of bed, walked over to Jack's side of the room, and slapped his ass as hard as I could. It would definitely leave a mark.

"Hey! What was that for?" Jack complained.

"Jonah asked me to, and you tempted me, so it really isn't my fault," I explained, shrugging my shoulders. "You really do have a nice ass. Maybe you'll give me a really good look at it sometime."

I couldn't believe I just said that!

"You'd better learn to sleep with one eye open, Nicholas," he warned.

And what did I go to bed thinking about that night?

Not Jack's teasing threats, for sure.

Of course – it was the same never-ending loop: Jack versus Noah. Round and round it went, like some awful carousel I couldn't step off. I thought I'd finally made up my mind. I had made up my mind. I knew who I needed to let go of. Who I had to let go of. And still… I couldn't do it.

It wasn't just fear – it was dread. This cold, gnawing pit in my stomach that kept whispering: You're going to ruin someone. You're going to break their heart, and they'll never look at you the same way again. And the worst part? They'd be right to hate me because I had let it go on too long. I'd let them both believe they had all of me, when the truth was, I'd been splitting myself in two. I wasn't being brave. I wasn't being honest. I was being selfish.

I'd never broken up with anyone before. Never looked someone in the eye and said, I'm sorry, but I can't be yours anymore. I didn't even know how to start. Every time I imagined the words, my throat closed up. How do you tell someone who's given you so much affection and love and time that it's not enough, and that those week or months together were ultimately wasted.

And then there was Jonah.

Jonah , of all people, had stepped in that afternoon like a human shield, throwing himself between me and the emotional mess I'd created. Fierce. Protective. Unshakably on my side. He wasn't loud about it – no big speech, no drama – but I saw it. Felt it. The way he stood up for me, no questions asked, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he knew I was drowning and wasn't about to let me sink without a fight.

And for the first time in weeks, I felt something other than guilt. I felt seen. Defended. Not judged. Not reduced to the guy who couldn't make up his mind or the guy playing two boys like pieces on a board. Jonah didn't treat me like some scandal. He treated me like a friend worth standing up for. I couldn't wait to see him tomorrow and give him a huge hug and a cuddle. He more than deserved it.

I'd always seen him as the side-show act. The comic relief. The one you went to when you needed a distraction, not a lifeline. But I was wrong about him. There was steel beneath the sarcasm. And heart. So much more heart than I'd ever given him credit for.

That realization hit me almost as hard as the guilt did. Because if someone like Jonah could be that solid, that brave, what excuse did I have?

I stared at the ceiling in the dark. I'd made my choice. Finally. But the thought of actually following through with it still scared the hell out of me. Saying goodbye, watching someone I cared about crumble – or worse, look at me with disappointment in their eyes – that was something I didn't know if I was strong enough to survive.

But I had to. I owed them that much. I owed myself that much.

Now I just had to find the guts to do it.

It took me a while to get to sleep that night, and I really missed feeling Jack next to me.

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