Jeff shoved his hand away. Despite the move, he savored the heat left behind by Braeden Britely’s touch. “Don’t say stupid things.”
Braeden grinned. “Then I better get serious, eh? How about meeting up at lunch tomorrow?”
Lunch. With Braeden. He’d need to ask Maya’s forgiveness, but had the feeling she wouldn’t mind at all. He nodded.
“Cool. Later, man.”
Jeff watched him walk away, marveling at the strange, crackling warmth spreading through his chest. Braeden Britely was something else. An enigma. A protector, a jokester, a victim, a healer. Though many flaws had been revealed in just a couple hours, Jeff couldn’t hold them against him. They only made him like Braeden more, appreciate the whole package.
No—not like.
Jeff’s fists clenched. He almost couldn’t think the words, but they came anyway.
I think I love him.
Chapter Eight
Jeff thought Maya would be happy for him. She’d been pushing the issue from day one, after all. But when he told her his feelings, even in the safety of his room, her face fell.
He tensed. “What?”
“No. Nothing.” She waved her hands.
“What, Maya?”
She tugged a lock of her blonde hair and sighed. “It’s just … I’m worried.”
“You were the one pushing me to hang out with him,” he accused.
“I know—and I’m sorry.” She bit her lip and shifted on his bed. The books spread between them shifted as well, along with their notes: Jeff’s in small but neat print, Maya’s in sloppy, curving letters. “But I didn’t think you’d say that.”
Jeff pressed his lips together. He looked away.
Discomfort leaden in her voice, Maya said, “I thought you’d crush on him, and maybe—maybe—he’d like you back. Maybe you guys’d date a little.”
“So what’s changed?” Jeff felt the threads connecting them snapping off one by one.
Maya grabbed his arm, almost like she sensed the fragility of those threads. “It’s different when it’s a crush and when it’s love. Actually love. Because—because it’s not so easy anymore. You can’t just get your heart hurt a little and move on, now.”
Jeff stared at her hand.
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I can handle myself,” he said.
She shook her head. Long hair caressed her collar bone as she did. “I don’t mean from Braeden.”
Jeff’s fist clenched. His stomach ached. His fingers ached. His arm ached. Bruises and broken bones and bleeding…
He sighed. How could he be angry with her for worrying about that?
His fingers flexed a few times. In his periphery, Maya watched him, silently prodding. He wanted to say he would be fine, that he wasn’t scared of schoolyard bullies anymore—but the problem was, he wasn’t certain any of that was true.
She surprised him by changing the subject—a little. “How’s tutoring going?”
“Fine.” He unwound a little, like a tight coil stressed so far it had no choice but to relax. “Sorry about lunch.”
She waved off his apology. “I ate with Julie.”
He blinked. “Julie Sato? You hate her.”
Maya lifted a shoulder. “Used to. She’s mellowed out.”
“She chopped your pigtails off in fifth grade.”
“Yeah, and she’s mellowed out.” Maya gave him a weird, concerned look. “People change, Jeffy. Even bullies.”
No, they didn’t. As far as Jeff could tell, they just honed their craft. The chances of a real and true change were one in three million. At a maximum.
But arguing with Maya would get him nowhere. He recognized, in part, that some of him thought this way because he didn’t want to share her. Maya was just a friend, but she wasn’t just a friend. She was his best friend, the only one he trusted wholly—aside from maybe Braeden. And that was tentative, based on how well Jeff could hide his feelings.
They said nothing for a few tense minutes. Maya scribbled in her notebook. Jeff stared at his textbook without seeing it. His butt was beginning to go numb from sitting in one position for so long.
At last, he muttered, “I’m rewriting the article.”
Maya tilted her head.
“You were right.” He rubbed his mouth and exhaled into his palm. “It was too mean.”
A faint smile brushed her lips. “Can I read the new one?”
Jeff slid off the bed and grabbed his backpack. Inside one of the binders were photocopies of his previously published articles. All boring, innocuous things: two paragraphs of world news, a notification for a city-wide blood drive, a list of nominees for the senior prom king and queen candidates.
This one was different. Everything about it was. Perhaps because he was pouring his heart into it.
Jeff handed over the page. A single page. Not multiple, like before, not padded out with insults.
Maya held the sheaf with a tenderness she hadn’t used last time. Her eyes scanned quickly. Then they rose over the top to eye him, and then shifted back down again, moving slower this time.
She handed it back.
“So?” asked Jeff.
She smiled. “It’s good.”
“Just good?”
She nudged him with her socked foot. Jeff hated her socks; she loved the kind with the individual toe pockets. “Don’t be like that,” she said. “It’s wonderful.” Her expression dimmed. “I wouldn’t publish it, though.”
“Why not?” He put the paper back in the binder. “It’s not a love poem.”
“No,” she admitted. “But it’s super obvious.”
He frowned. “Maybe because you know me.”
“Maybe…” She sounded unconvinced.
Jeff almost dismissed her concerns, but then rethought the idea. She was probably right. Maya was close to the situation, but she wasn’t stupid. Compared to him, her social awareness was through the roof. Braeden had been right stating she could have been popular if she wanted to. In large part that was because she was sensitive to her peers.
He zipped his bag closed. “I’ll type it up and submit it anonymously.”
“It’s too obvious.”
“So I’ll take his name out.”
She shook her head, though her posture was gentle. She grasped her ankles and leaned forward. “Why don’t you stop using the school newspaper as a cover and write him a letter?”
A blush crept up his neck. Jeff grunted.
“Jeffy…”
“No.”
“But—”
“You just got upset because I told you I think I—” The word stopped in his throat, choking him. It had been hard enough to say the first time. A second was difficult, much less writing a letter, which was unthinkable.
Maya rolled her eyes. “I’m worried for your safety, but I think you can write a letter.”
He scowled at her feet. The socks were so weird, wrapping her toes in stretchy rainbow tubes.
“You don’t have to send it,” she urged. “Just get your feelings out. Maybe it’ll help clear your head.”
Maya had cute toes, he supposed, but all toes were weird. Like aliens. Little tiny necks with bulbous heads, a crowd of bobble heads at the end of every foot.
“Good god, Jeff, stop criticizing my feet or I’ll kick you in the face.”
He tore his eyes away and looked up at her, jaw set. “I’m not writing a letter.”
“Well, you can’t ask the school to publish that,” she said. Her toes wiggled. Probably on purpose, to taunt him. “Even if you send it anonymously, they’re going to find out who wrote it. You heard about that kid in Seattle who got doxed last month? Happens all the time now.”
Jeff said nothing.
“If you want to tell Braeden, tell him in person. Or give him a letter.” She nudged his cheek with the point of her big toe. He shoved it away. “You know he won’t tell.”
“Unless he’s a closet homophobe,” muttered Jeff.
<
br /> “Seriously? What are the odds?”
“Higher than him returning my … feelings.”
Maya’s expression sobered. She pondered the wall for a few moments. Then she looked back at Jeff. “Either way, it’s safer than an article. You don’t even need the credit, and you know it.”
Jeff’s glasses were falling down his nose. He pushed them up. Then he nodded.
Maya’s shoulders sagged. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Jeff almost said something but bit his tongue. She was, after all, changing before his eyes. Getting taller than him, even if by mere centimeters. Talking to Julie Sato, which was so weird it made his skin crawl.
Maybe it wouldn’t just be a Braeden-sized hole left behind at the end of the year. Perhaps there would be a smaller, just as significant hole that looked suspiciously like Maya.
Interlude
Braeden,
I don’t know how to say this, so I’m writing this letter. I know. Super lame.
The thing is, ever since I met you, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. Figured it was just a crush. Something stupid. But then we started talking. Hanging out. You figured me out so fast it honestly freaked me a little. I never planned to get close. But you’re the nicest person I’ve ever met. (Except Maya, of course.) The more you got to know me, the more you wanted to. It’s never felt right like this before.
I know you’re straight. And I don’t expect you to return my feelings. But I had to tell you that I like you.
I hope we can still be friends.
From,
Jeff
Braeden,
Hope this isn’t awkward, but I like you. More than I should.
Braeden,
Just to start with, I know you’re straight
Braeden,
I’m trying not to make this about me, but
Braeden Britely,
I don’t know where to begin.
Yo, Braeden, just gotta say
Dear Braeden,
Dear Mr. Britely
Braeden,
I’m in love with you.
I’m sorry.
- Jeff
Chapter Nine
In some ways, Jeff regretted writing the letter. He didn’t give it to Braeden—that would be social suicide—but the fact it was always there bothered him. He kept it hidden in the binder of his newspaper articles, where no one would ask to borrow any notes or get a peek while he scribbled something down. Even so, its presence burned. Every time the binder was in his backpack, he could feel the shame of unrequited emotions smoldering a hole into his spine.
It also had the annoying effect of making him notice Braeden more than ever. Like now, at lunch, where they huddled at one of the indoor benches with algebra problems spread between them. Braeden’s arms were just inches from his. Jeff could feel his body heat roiling off, washing over him like a warm bath.
Annoying. And wonderful.
A group of guys approached. Jeff vaguely recognized them as members from the Hogs team. All but the one who piped up. “Hey, Braeden—”
Braeden waved a hand. “For the last time, guys, I’m studying. We’ll hang out later.”
Jeff said nothing. He didn’t like the eyes boring into him, so kept his head down while going over a page of problems Braeden had done the night before. He was making some improvements. That was heartening, even though the red lines outnumbered the pencil marks.
The ringleader huffed. “Since when were you such a nerd?”
Braeden looked up. “Since I wanted to do more than skate by.”
“Dude—”
“Rob, seriously, piss off. Okay?” Even with the harsh words, Braeden’s tone was friendly. “I’ll catch up with you guys after meet today.”
Rob rolled his eyes.
Jeff tried not to stare. He wasn’t a fan of the guy. Rob had failed to make the football team, but that was far from the issue. Maybe it was because he looked similar to the playground bully from several years ago. Not in facial features. Rob was considered handsome by many of the girls with his clean-shaven face and sharp eyes. But he was big. Shorter than Braeden, but stocky, wide. Meaty hands, thick waist. Primo football material … except he was too slow.
Too similar to the jerkoff, thought Jeff. He could already imagine Maya scolding him for his prejudice.
“Whatever, man.” Rob slapped Braeden on the back. “Later.”
Braeden shook his head with an unimpressed look. The guys left, laughing and joking about something that eluded Jeff. He tried not to be too relieved about their absence. Instead, he watched Braeden closely. He couldn’t detect any ire from his friend. “You really friends with that guy?” He kept his voice quiet. Sitting with Braeden was very different than sitting with Maya. With Maya, they were left alone. With Braeden, people kept scooting closer and trying to make conversation. It was aggravating.
Braeden raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Should I not be?”
Jeff shrugged.
“Rob’s cool, man.” Braeden folded his hands over his work. “As far as I know, anyway.”
“Yeah, okay. I get it.”
Braeden’s eyebrows furrowed. “Seriously, is there something I should know?”
Jeff shook his head. “Forget it.” It wasn’t like a gut feeling meant anything, not when he didn’t know the guy. He just shared a few similarities to the playground bully. Nothing to drag Braeden into now.
Braeden rested his chin on the heel of his hand. He looked like he was contemplating the ceiling. “You can chill with us sometime, you know. Maybe make some new friends. Maya’s been hanging out with Julie, right?”
Jeff scribbled on his notes so hard the pen threatened to snap.
“We could do a group hike,” said Braeden. “Take you out of your comfort zone but keep things familiar.”
“Trust me, I’m already out of my comfort zone,” muttered Jeff.
Braeden grinned. “Fair enough.” He glanced down at his work. “Yeah. Okay. You don’t bug me about you-know-what, and I don’t push you about this. Deal?”
“Deal.” Jeff pointed. “But you’re procrastinating. You got half a sheet to finish.”
Braeden laughed. “Whoops. You caught me.”
Jeff snorted. What he didn’t say was that he, in his own way, was procrastinating as well. Part of him knew Braeden was right, that he should make friends who weren’t him or Maya, but that wasn’t something he wanted to deal with. He preferred solitude.
At the very least, it was easier to keep his secrets when there weren’t so many people to tell them to.
Braeden bent back over his work, affording Jeff another chance to watch him covertly. Braeden’s mechanical pencil scratched over his worksheet, less confident than usual, but still swift and smooth. He had surprisingly good handwriting. Curvy, like Maya’s, but less sloppy. Which was surprising, because his hands were big enough that they almost swallowed the pencil.
Braeden glanced up and raised an eyebrow. “Am I screwing this up?”
It took Jeff a moment to remember they were working on algebra. He shook his head.
Braeden opened his mouth as if to say something else but grunted instead as a girl nudged his shoulder and sat next to him. “Hey, Braedy,” she chirped.
Jeff’s hackles rose. His grip tightened on his pen. Carrie. The girl from the newspaper class who’d been flirting with Braeden hardcore for months.
Jeff waited for Braeden to dismiss her like he had Rob, but Braeden grinned. “Hey, Carrie. What’s up?”
“Not much.” She leaned over his work, toying with her hair in her left hand. “Oh, math? You need help with it?”
Jeff’s jaw tightened.
Braeden shot him a sideways look but kept that annoying smile on his face. “Jeff’s tutoring me.”
“Oh.” Carrie flashed Jeff a brief smile before laying a hand on Braeden’s shoulder. “If you need extra help, I got a B-minus in it last year. So, you know.”
Jeff closed his eyes. His heart bange
d against his chest. He tried to breathe past it, but it was like trying to force a pocket of air into a steel ball.
“Well,” said Braeden slowly. “That’s cool, but—”
Don’t freak out, Jeff told himself.
“You could come over.” Her voice lowered. “Mom’s gone. Left some booze in the fridge.”
Don’t. Freak. Out.
Braeden hesitated.
And for a moment too long. Jeff slammed his book closed. Papers and binders clattered to the floor. He turned and knocked his bag down. He refused to get flustered. He climbed out of the lunch bench and knelt. He shoved his notes into his bag. Zipped the bag. Stood.
“Hey,” said Braeden, surprise widening his features. “Jeff—”
“If you’re not going to focus, I’m not going to help,” he snapped.
“Dude—”
“Later.”
Jeff stormed off, barely hearing Carrie’s exclamation of, “What’s his deal?”
Braeden answered, but his voice was swallowed by the commotion of the lunchroom.
Jeff couldn’t stay and watch that. His blood was too hot, his pulse too loud. And Maya was eating with Julie fucking Sato, so there was no way he could even stay in the same room as Braeden.
Jeff ducked into the hallway. The best part about being small was how easily he could get lost in a crowd. He wasn’t worried about Braeden finding him.
Right then, that was the last thing he wanted. Liking Braeden, he could handle. Loving him, even. But being jealous of girls, girls who he was clearly more interested in…
Well. The line had to be drawn somewhere.
Jeff stopped at his locker. Few students filtered through the weirdly open space. It looked strange without others flocking to their classes. He rested his head against the cool metal, closed his eyes, and cursed himself.
He’d screwed up. He’d freaked out.
With a sigh, he spun the lock and opened the door. He took out the notes he’d used to help Braeden study and started trading books for the last half of classes. At least one was gym, so his backpack would be a little lighter. Unlike his stomach, which was so leaden with anxiety he wanted to gag.
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