Swing for the Fences
by Little Buddha
Chapter 17
When I came back to Harrison West after Christmas break, I'd been excited. Genuinely, stupidly excited. I couldn't wait to pick up where we left off – late-night conversations, stolen kisses with Noah, tennis matches, cafeteria drama, dumb inside jokes with Jack, cuddles when the nights got heavy. I wanted all of it.
Instead, it had been non-stop drama , and I seemed to be in the midst of much of it.
People – friends , even – kept shipping Jack and me like we were a tragic gay romance novel. Danny, the suspiciously well-adjusted new kid, had basically slid right into our group like he'd been manufactured in a lab for maximum charisma and cuteness. Jonah was acting like some kind of unhinged, pint-sized crusader with a martyr complex. And now, with my birthday looming, I knew someone was bound to try to plan something, which really irritated me.
I wanted things to go back to how they were, before I became "semi-popular" (at least among the freshman class in Linden Hall). I wanted to breathe again. I wanted to re-focus my energy and efforts on the real reason I came to Harrison West in the first place – to get the best possible education and get into a top-tier university.
By Thursday, I'd seriously considered texting my mom to see if I could come home for the weekend. Just to hit pause. To sleep in my own bed, away from all the noise and chaos. But I didn't. Because if something happened – if Jack broke down again, or Jonah went rogue, or Noah decided to confess something – I'd miss it. And that thought was worse than staying.
That night, I was sitting cross-legged on the floor of my dorm room while Christian explained the Binomial Theorem using a granola bar and two dry erase markers. Out of all my friends, Christian was probably the most steady and down-to-earth, and brought the least amount of drama. Plus, it was cool having a super popular upperclassman and football star as a close friend, and even better than that, he wasn't gay . So that meant no temptations. We could just hang and be "guys."
"See?" he said, drawing parentheses in the air. "You distribute the 'a' to both terms inside the quantity, and then you—"
"Hey," I interrupted, looking up at him. "Do you think anything's been, like… off this week?"
Christian blinked. "Off how?"
"I don't know. Just weird. Tense."
He shrugged. "I haven't noticed anything. Everyone's just getting back into the rhythm, I guess."
I hesitated. "Has your troll of a little brother been getting on your nerves more than usual?"
Christian chuckled. "Jonah? Nah. He's… Jonah. You get used to it. He grows on people."
"Like a fungus."
"Exactly."
I fiddled with the hem of my sleeve, chewing on my next question before finally blurting, "Do you think he's even capable of being serious?"
Christian raised an eyebrow.
"I mean, he says he loves me and Jack, flirts with us constantly, and then totally flips out at Noah in front of the trees," I said. "I can't tell if it's all just one big Jonah joke or if he actually means any of it."
Christian exhaled through his nose and leaned back against my dresser. "He can definitely be serious. Especially when it's about something – or someone – he really cares about. We talk seriously all the time when we're at home. I don't know what his deal with you and Jack is, but going off on Noah – sounds like he was being protective, which is quite like him. You guys are like big brothers to him. He adores you guys."
I looked at him, trying to keep my voice casual. "Is Jonah… gay ?"
Christian burst out laughing. "Jonah is just Jonah . He's always refused labels. Trust me, we've tried. Every time I ask, he says something like 'I'm not gay, I'm just too sexy to be straight.'"
I winced. "That sounds… accurate."
"Why?" Christian asked, tilting his head.
I sighed. "I can't tell if he's serious when he says he loves me and Jack. Or if he actually has a crush or wants attention."
Christian tapped the side of his sneaker thoughtfully. "Yeah. He can be hard to read. A lot of the time, he doesn't even know what he wants. But I think he does like you guys, it's just hard to say in what way. Whether it's a crush or hero worship or something else, I don't know. But he really does look up to you. I'd say give him a chance. Yeah, he's kind of weird and will drive you crazy, but he can also be an incredibly loyal friend, and you can always count on him for anything. Don't let his goofiness put you off him. Most people see only that, which is why he struggles to make friends. Just remember, it's Jonah's world; we're all just living in it."
I grimaced. "But why does he have to have a crush on both of us?"
Christian smirked. "Well, you and Jack are kind of a package deal, aren't you?"
That one hit weirdly hard.
"Noah and I are the package deal," I muttered. "At least, I thought so. Jack and I are just friends."
Christian just shrugged like he didn't want to argue. "Whatever you say, pumpkin."
"Thanks for helping me not fail math," I mumbled, standing up.
"And for the therapy session," he replied with a smile. "And sorry, I couldn't help you out with the rugrat. He's tough to get a handle on – even for me – and I'm his brother."
I left to take a shower, thoughts racing. Was that really how people saw Jack and me? As a unit ? Not Nick-and-Noah, but Nick-and-Jack ? Even Noah seemed to notice it, though he swore it didn't bother him. If I were him, I would be super jealous and would seriously cut a bitch. The idea just unsettled me. Not because I didn't care about Jack – I did, duh! – but because it muddied everything. And the last thing I needed was more mud.
And here I was, having thought I had all this worked out during Christmas break, but now I was confused again. I needed someone – or something – to give me a serious nudge. Like a sign from the Universe.
When I got back to the room, Jack was predictably shirtless, lying sideways across his bed, feet kicking slightly in the air as he stared at his phone. And low-key hot as always.
"Hey, Birthday Boy," he said without looking up. "You're gonna love what we're planning."
"God, Jack," I groaned. "Can we not ?"
He raised an eyebrow. "What, you don't want a party?"
"No! Birthdays make me feel gross. Just leave it alone."
Jack shrugged, clearly amused based on the smirk on his face. I stripped off my hoodie and collapsed onto my bed, pulling my tablet into my lap and cueing up some random YouTube video I didn't care about. I could feel Jack watching me, judging me. Yeah, yeah, I was feeling a little grumpy and out of sorts. So sue me!
"Hey," he said after a minute. "Can I sleep in your bed again tonight?"
I paused.
"I… I don't think we should," I said quietly, and immediately regretting it. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
Jack's face shifted, just slightly. "Oh."
I kept going, the guilt already blooming. "I have a boyfriend. And I want to be with him. And… I think maybe we need to stop blurring the lines."
It seemed to me like Jack and I had had this discussion before, and he'd agreed. But then I guess the other night when we got back from Christmas break, we messed that up. What I had thought of as an exception due to extraordinary circumstances (his getting beaten up by his dad) was now the status quo again. And now Jack was just going to be hurt all over again. It really sucked. And I really sucked for not knowing how to handle this situation.
How much longer was this going to drag out? I couldn't take much more of it. My nerves were beyond frazzled.
Jack sat up, pulling the blanket around his waist. "Right. No problem. I get it."
His voice was light, but I could feel the hurt pulsing off him like heat.
I turned away and shut off the light, curling onto my side and pretending to fall asleep.
But sleep didn't come easily that night.
I was afraid I just made a huge mistake, even though it may have been the "right" thing to do.
I really didn't want a birthday celebration. Have I mentioned that?
I'd made that abundantly clear. Multiple times. In different tones. To different people. Birthdays made me feel awkward and icky and overly visible, like being shoved under a spotlight in my pajamas. And fifteen wasn't even a cool age. It was just… halfway to thirty.
But my friends, apparently, didn't care how I felt. Didn't even take it into consideration. Shouldn't I have some say in whether I celebrate my birthday or not?
The devious plan was executed with terrifying precision, with me none the wiser. Jack and Christian were the masterminds. Jonah, of course, gleefully played chaos coordinator. The rest of the dorm was sworn to secrecy.
It just so happened that my birthday – January 13 th – landed on a Saturday that year. Even worse? The Lions were in round two of the playoffs, playing that same night. I'd been looking forward to watching it with the guys all week, as it would be a great way to blow off some steam. It had become our weekly tradition, one of my favorite parts of the week, our male bonding time. I particularly treasured the times when Christian draped his arm over my shoulder, and I leaned on him for the whole game. It made me feel safe, for some reason, to be hanging out in a roomful of jocks, the vast majority of whom liked me and even spoke to me.
Christian had stopped by my room earlier that morning and asked if I was planning to watch the game with everyone in the common room.
"Yeah, obviously," I said, curling my lip. "I'm not missing a playoff game. Especially not this season."
"Cool," he said, grinning just a little too wide. "I'll come grab you before kickoff. I'll bring you a pair of my lucky underwear to wear."
My heart jumped about ten feet, and my face immediately flushed crimson. I was seriously hoping he wouldn't wash them first, and then wondered if it would be considered creepy if I slept with them under my pillow. I just hoped he wouldn't ask for them back after the game.
I should've known something was up. I should have known.
While Christian rounded up the troops and helped hang decorations, Jack stayed behind to keep me in the room.
He faked a phone call with his mom. Loud, brutal, unhinged. I walked in just as he screamed, "No wonder Dad left!" and threw his phone against the wall.
"Jack!" I cried, rushing to him. "What happened?!"
He collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavily, tears streaming down his cheeks. "She said I was a mistake," he sobbed. "She said I ruin everything."
I held him. I didn't even hesitate. I stroked his hair, brushed it out of his face like I had so many times before, whispered that I was here, that he wasn't a mistake, that I cared about him – so much.
He looked up at me, red-eyed. "You don't love me anymore."
My throat clenched. I'd been trying so hard not to say it – because it screwed-up everything. Because Noah was my boyfriend. Because words like that couldn't be unsaid.
But I said it anyway. And I meant it.
"I do love you," I whispered. "More than anything."
More than Noah?
Nearly thirty minutes passed like that, me curled around Jack while he sniffled into my shoulder, and I wondered if this was the most emotionally complicated birthday in human history. Maybe this was why he'd wanted to sleep with me last night, because he'd been having another rough patch with his parents, came to me for comfort, and like the asshole that I was, I turned him away. I was furious with myself, which made my already grumpy mood about the party even worse.
Right on cue, there was a knock at the door. Christian's voice drifted in. "Hey! Game's starting in five!"
Jack sat up, wiped his face, and gave me a watery smile. "I feel better now. Go. Enjoy it."
"You sure?"
"Yeah. I'll be fine. I promise. And thank you. You're always here when I need you."
Still worried, I stood, fixed my hair in the mirror, and followed Christian downstairs.
And then—
"SURPRISE!"
I screamed. Actually screamed. My heart did a full backflip into my throat. The common room was packed – streamers, balloons, a big handwritten banner that said Happy 15th, Nick! across the windows. Tables were covered in food: pepperoni and veggie pizzas, extra spicy buffalo wings, subs, chips, pop, and cake. And they even brought Vernors pop for me!
And so many people.
Everyone from Linden Hall, and even a few kids from the neighboring dorms, all smiling, all yelling, all somehow here for me .
Jack came up behind me and hugged me tight, whispering in my ear, "You're such a pushover, but I love you anyway."
I turned to him, still stunned, but also royally pissed. "I can't believe you manipulated me like that, you fuckwad !" I yelled at him.
Jack looked shocked at my outburst. "Nick, I'm sorry, I just wanted to plan the perfect party for you, and that was the only way I could think of to keep you occupied while everyone was setting up."
Tears started streaming down his face by this point. I glared at him for a few moments, but then I caved, wrapped my arms around him, and he collapsed into me. "I'll never do anything like that again, I swear!" he sobbed, while I rubbed his back. I didn't really care if anyone saw and wanted to start another annoying rumor about me and Jack. Comforting Jack would always be my priority. No question.
There were bigger fish to fry at the moment, so to speak. The game was playing on the big TV – Lions already up by two touchdowns – and people were laughing, grabbing food, offering congratulations.
I gorged myself on wings so spicy they made my eyes water. I chugged root beer like I'd just run a marathon. I laughed – actually laughed – for the first time in what felt like weeks. It was the best party I recalled ever having – and the first I'd had at all since my dad died. One of the highlights, of course, was when Jonah plopped down on my lap to sort of watch the game with me, although he was easily distracted, unintentionally wiggling his tiny little butt constantly, which had an unwelcome effect on me. Thank God he didn't seem to notice it.
And then came the cake.
It was a raunchy cake. Someone (probably Jonah) had found the most inappropriately shaped cake imaginable. It was anatomically hilarious and somehow still delicious. And then came the expected dick jokes, courtesy of none other than Jonah:
-
"My love life is like my dick: disappointing, occasionally misdirected, and always showing up uninvited."
-
"I tried to send a dick pic once, but the file size was too large… emotionally."
-
"If I had a nickel for every time my dick made a bad decision, I could retire. Or at least buy better underwear."
-
"Look, if I had a dollar for every time someone said 'that's it?' … I'd have two dollars. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice."
-
"My dick's like a college freshman – excited, confused, and way too quick to finish."
Once the cake had been eaten beyond recognition, the presents began to appear. I wasn't expecting presents.
I was floored. These guys were all rich kids, sure, but the effort and thought behind each gift made my chest tighten in the best possible way.
Christian gave me an authentic Lions jersey and matching cap.
Jonah handed me a giant box of candy and chocolate, an authentic NFL football, a new pair of "cool" shoes, and all topped with a note that said, "Happy Birthday to the best older boy a goblin like me could ever love."
Emery gifted me a giant travel coffee table book all about China – lush photos, cultural notes, historic landmarks. He also got me all three levels of the Fluenz Mandarin language learning program, which I could use on my laptop, tablet, and/or phone. It would be a great resource to help me with my Mandarin and even "jump ahead" a little.
Mark brought out a stack of several perfectly folded "hip" outfits (all designer names, of course) – clothes I'd never have picked out myself, but somehow already loved. He even threw in a pair of very nice designer sunglasses.
I also got a bunch of smaller gifts from boys who I wouldn't really call "friends" yet, but who were more like good acquaintances. I wasn't sure which category "Cute Danny" was going to fall into yet, but he got me the book The Art of Happiness by The Dalai Lama, and a genuine Tibetan singing bowl.
And then there was Jack's gift. It was either going to make me roll my eyes and laugh, or it was going to make me cry.
He handed me a flat, wrapped package. My hands were shaking as I opened it.
Inside was a framed portrait – of Jack and me. He must have drawn it from the photo my mom had taken of us hugging each other at Thanksgiving. It was drawn in graphite and charcoal. Beautifully rendered, down to the freckles on my cheeks and the stupid swoop in my hair that never lay flat. I felt tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. It was easily the best gift of the night. One of the best gifts of my entire life. And I wasn't embarrassed at all to show everyone the drawing that Jack gave me of the two of us hugging. You could literally see the love in that picture. It was amazing.
"I wanted to give you something nice like the others, but you know my parents don't give me any money for stuff like that," he whispered sadly.
"It's perfect, Jack," I said, hugging him tighter. "Do you draw me very often?"
"All the time," he answered matter-of-factly.
After the gifts had all been given, appropriate thanks and hugs given, I realized there should have been one missing. I looked all around the room but didn't see Noah.
Was he saving my "gift" for later? I thought deviously.
"Where's Noah?" I asked. "Has anyone seen him?"
The air shifted. People looked at each other awkwardly.
"He was invited," Christian said. "I made sure of it."
"He never showed," Jonah added, his tone actually serious for once.
I stood up, rage burning. "You planned this! You all planned to keep my boyfriend away from my own birthday party!"
Jack blinked, stunned. "What? No – Nick, I swear –"
"This whole thing was your idea, wasn't it?!"
Jack looked like I'd slapped him. "Yeah, but… we invited him. I thought he was coming."
I didn't wait for another word.
I bolted out of the room and ran back up the stairs, heart pounding in my chest. My worst fear was crystallizing: Noah, hurt, excluded, lying on his bed crying while I partied downstairs with the people who shut him out, who refused to accept him as my boyfriend.
I needed to find him.
Before I lost him for good.
I didn't want a birthday party. I'd said it over and over again, but of course no one listened. They thought they knew better. Thought they were doing something nice . And for a while – just a moment – it really did feel like they were right.
I had laughed. I had eaten. I had smiled . I'd even cried when Jack handed me his gift. To think that he'd manipulate my feelings like that!
But now I was storming up the stairs, my pulse thundering in my ears like a war drum.
Because Noah wasn't there. Sure, we'd been having a few rough patches, but he was still my boyfriend, I still loved him, and he should have been there.
And Jack – Jack , the person I'd trusted more than anyone – was the one who made sure he wasn't. The person who gave me the most amazing gift – that charcoal sketch of him and me hugging at Thanksgiving – stabbed me in my back.
I could feel the anger boiling in my chest, rising like bile. After everything I'd done for Jack – holding him through his panic attacks, letting him cry on me, protecting his secrets, inviting him into my home – and this was how he repaid me?
He had manipulated me. Lied to me. Played some pathetic, desperate game to have me all to himself.
I would never speak to him again. I would put in a request to change rooms first thing on Monday morning.
I didn't bother knocking on Noah's door.
I didn't hesitate.
I flung it open like I had every right to be there – because I did .
And then I froze.
Because what I saw didn't make any sense.
Noah was naked .
So was another boy.
They were tangled together on the bed, gasping, moaning, skin flushed, their bodies undulating in perfect rhythm. Lips collided, legs twisted, fingers dug into skin, hands grabbed asses. I stared in silence as their bare chests pressed together, sweat glistening in the low lamplight. Noah was on top; I watched as his small butt cheeks clenched as he grinded hard against the guy on the bottom. I almost threw up in my mouth.
Fuck-me. Hard.
The other guy, who I barely recognized, was Jeff Purdell. A redhead. Tall. Smug. An upperclassman from the neighboring dorm who had always carried himself like everyone was beneath him – except, apparently, Noah, since he was beneath Noah at the moment, his hands gripping my boyfriend's hair as they made out and thrust wildly against each other.
They were so absorbed in what they were doing, they didn't notice me, or that they'd been caught.
In flagrante delicto .
When they started moaning each other's names, I finally made a sound. I'm not sure what it was – a sob, a gasp, a guttural, wounded animal sound that erupted from somewhere deep and raw inside of me.
That's when they finally noticed.
"Oh shit!" Noah yelped, his voice cracking as he scrambled for a pillow to cover his rapidly shrinking boyhood. At least he wouldn't need a very big pillow to cover it, I thought to myself.
"Fuck!" Jeff shouted, leaping for his boxers and tripping over a shoe.
"No, Nick – wait –" Noah stammered, halfway to the floor, arms flailing.
But I was already backing out of the room, eyes wet, throat closed, the world spinning around me like a carousel I couldn't get off.
People were pouring into the hallway, drawn by the noise. Whispers started. Then laughter. Then the sound of someone saying my name like it was breaking news.
I turned and walked away as quickly as I could. If I didn't, I would collapse right there in front of everyone.
My legs carried me through the stairwell and down the hall toward my room, but I couldn't feel them. My body was ice. My hands were shaking. My ears were ringing.
How could I have been so blind? How could I have been so naïve?
Jack had warned me. Jonah had yelled at me. Everyone saw it but me.
Oh, I'd seen plenty of clues. There were plenty of things "off" with Noah, almost from the beginning, or at least since Halloween, but I just brushed them aside and continued to defend him. Now I looked like a total idiot, and I would be jeered and teased about it for the rest of my time here at Harrison West.
And worse? Worse than all of it?
Even as I watched Noah arch his back under another boy's hands, even as I stood there humiliated and betrayed, I still thought he looked beautiful. And I was even getting hard.
My stomach turned.
I was a mess. A joke. A loser.
And a pervert.
I reached the door to my room, barely able to breathe. My hand hovered over the knob, but I couldn't bring myself to open it. How was I supposed to walk in there and face Jack after everything I'd said – after yelling at him, humiliating him in front of everyone? I'd accused him of sabotaging my birthday when, in reality, he'd done everything he could to make it unforgettable. And it was . He made it perfect. It wasn't Jack who ruined anything – it was Noah. Jack was completely innocent, and I hadn't trusted him. I hadn't believed in the one person who believed in me the most.
At last, I gripped the doorknob and eased the door open, my hand trembling with hesitation.
Jack was there.
He was sitting on his bed, knees drawn to his chest, tear-streaked and puffy-eyed. When he saw me, he looked like he'd been punched in the gut.
"Nick," he said. "Please. I swear to God, I didn't do anything. We invited Noah. I asked him myself. Emery reminded him. He said he was coming. I would never try to keep him away. I'd never hurt you like that."
He was desperate. I could hear it in every cracked syllable. He was on the verge of breaking.
And I didn't say a single word.
Because I couldn't.
Because I didn't deserve to.
Because I had screamed at him in front of everyone. Accused him. Blamed him. Looked him in the eyes and believed the worst.
And he hadn't done anything wrong.
He was crying because I had hurt him .
Hadn't he learned by now that all I would do is hurt him if we were together?
I felt like my whole world was collapsing around me.
I stepped into the room, kicked off my shoes, and peeled off my clothes slowly, like they were made of lead – hoodie, jeans, and shirt. I left my underwear on and climbed into bed. I pulled the covers over my head and curled into a ball so tightly I could barely breathe. At that point, I was ready to give up. I was so done with Harrison West. I just wanted to go home. I wanted my mommy. I wanted Mr. Bojangles. I wanted all of this to go away.
I wanted to disappear.
I wanted to be erased.
Across the room, Jack cried softly into his pillow.
His sobs weren't loud. They weren't theatrical. They were the kind of sobs you only make when you're alone – or when you think the person you love doesn't love you back.
I had wanted so badly to believe in love. To believe I had found it.
But now I knew the truth. Love didn't exist for people like me.
I had picked the wrong boy. Wasted months of my life with him. I'd even been thinking of taking that next "step" with him.
And I might never be able to make that right.
I stared into the darkness under the blanket, my face damp, my chest aching. I wished I could crawl into Jack's bed, hold him, tell him that I loved him and always had. But I didn't move. I couldn't.
I stayed where I was.
Because I didn't think he wanted me anymore.
And maybe he never would again.
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