Tarrant has been topping her up with the cash he makes from fixing cars. Now, I need to find a job too. The only thing my father has paid for is our tuition—I guess we should be grateful. However, my tuition comes with conditions. I need to continue playing football. I don’t mind, not really, but I wish I could use my time how I choose. There are so many things I’d love to do, like hiking and painting, but between school and football, I don’t have time for it.
When I do get a job, it will be even harder. It’s only a couple of months until school’s out, then I have one more year. That means I need to think about what I’m going to do afterward. For right now, I just need a job. As a guy, when you take out a girl, there’s an expectancy to pay for the date. I’ve only had three dates with other guys since I came out—I paid for two and the third we split the tab. I’m now going to have to watch what I spend. His family obviously have money, what’s the betting this guy does too? And I don’t. It’s just another drop of poison from my internal tap, telling me I’m not good enough.
“How recently did you move here?” I try to keep my voice relaxed, pretend like I’m not burning up on the inside, as we come to a stop at the stonewall.
“About ten days,” he tells me.
I nod and stretch my arms up, yawning. His eyes skim over my body, stopping briefly on my exposed stomach. I hum without realizing it, and he quickly averts his gaze. He shakes his head angrily. It’s such a small movement he probably doesn’t think I notice.
“You okay?” I ask, scratching the back of my head on purpose, so my top rises again. His eyes stay locked on mine this time.
“Yeah, I gotta go.”
“Of course. You go to college around here?” I push to get a little more information out of him. I know I want to see him again, I just have to figure out a way.”
“Erm… actually, I start West Hayden tomorrow.”
I almost swallow my tongue when he mentions my college. “That’s where I go.” My words come out slightly raspy, and he raises an eyebrow. Smacking a fist on my chest, I give a lame excuse. “Sorry, must have caught a bug in my throat.”
Casper nods slowly like he can’t decide if I’m crazy or not, but when the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s fighting a smile, a brass band starts performing inside me. He’s gay, he’s gay, he’s gay. The words accompany the brass band, and I hope like hell I’m right.
“So, see you tomorrow?” I whisper.
Casper tilts his to the side. “Sure.”
I don’t wait for anything else, not wanting to make myself look like an idiot. I know I’ll see him tomorrow and that’s enough for now.
“Hey, Morgan, hold up,” I semi shout as I spot her small frame. Morgan’s long dark hair flies around in the breeze as she hustles to class. “Morgan,” I shout again, this time I place my finger and thumb in my mouth and let out a high-pitched whistle. She jerks to a stop and turns tentatively. Worry passes over her face until she spots me, then a smile breaks free. Her smile is real, but it looks almost like it’s from relief more than anything else. I jog forward, brushing through the crowd until I make it to her. “What’s up with you?” I ask the instant I’m in her space.
“W-what are you talking about?” Her voice is steady, but her eyes look everywhere except at me.
“There’s something up with you. Ever since you split up with Aaron last week, you’ve been different.” I scratch my chin, unable to put my finger on it.
Morgan threads her arm through mine. “Nah, I’m good, big guy.” She pats me on the chest with her free hand, as though reassuring me.
“Okay,” I reply. I know there’s something happening, I’m going to need to speak to Laura. Whatever’s going on with Morgan, I think it’s going to require a night of tequila to draw the truth out of her.
“You see Laura and your brother this morning?” she questions, dragging me toward the food hall.
“Nope. He mainly stays at the garage now, so I don’t see him at home much. Laura stays there with him sometimes, right?”
Morgan worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “Most of the time, yeah.” It’s a simple answer, but her delivery tells me so much more than her words.
“Food?” I ask.
“Huh?” She looks up at me, confusion washing over her features.
I nod toward the food hall. “Want something to eat?”
Morgan looks between me and the entrance. “Oh, no… I mean I don’t want anything. Ermm… sorry, Caden, I need to get to… the…” her head darts from left to right, “…to, S-Sociology,” she stammers before running off.
“But you don’t…” I shout as she disappears into the river of students, “…take Sociology,” I finish in a whisper.
I scratch the back of my head. That was weird, even for Morgan. Pulling out my cell, I shoot a text to Laura.
Me: Need to chat. Morgan’s acting strange.
I watch the three little dots moving on the screen as she types.
Laura: Stranger than normal :-O
Me: Yep.
Laura: One word answer. This is serious. Be there soon.
Me: What do you mean, you don’t know where I am.
Suddenly slender arms wrap themselves around my waist from behind.
“You all right, Button?” I ask. Using my nickname for her.
Laura lets go and walks around to face me with a smile.
“Brother,” Tarrant’s voice is so low it feels like it’s chafing my chest. He gives me a chin lift and slides an arm around Laura’s shoulder. A couple of girls walk past giggling. Glancing over, one winks at me, obviously unaware I don’t swing her way. The friend pretends to slap her on the arm with embarrassment. However, she’s sporting a grin as her eyes wander over Tarrant’s frame. He doesn’t notice them. Not ever. He only sees Laura, and luckily she doesn’t get jealous of the attention he receives.
“So what’s going on with Morgan?”
“I don’t know? She seemed off this morning, stuttering and stumbling over her words. She seemed…” I pause and consider my words.
“What? She seemed what?” Laura urges, stepping out of Tarrant’s hold and nearer to me.
I stare down at her bright green eyes. She’s been through so much in her life, yet she’s still somehow so innocent. “Lost… she seemed lost,” I tell her.
Her mouth forms an O as she frowns. A resolve comes over her. “Tequila?” she asks.
“Tequila.” I smirk back at her.
Tarrant rolls his eyes. “Come on, Lemon, time for class.” His voice is soft, gentle when he’s speaking to her like she’s precious and delicate, and he wants her to remain that way. He tugs her back toward his body and kisses the top of her head. “Catch you later?” His question means he wants to have a chat, no doubt about Mom.
“Lunch?” I question back. He nods in the affirmative and slaps my back with his free hand as they walk past me.
The twisting sensation in my gut starts about five minutes after Art begins.
I walk in and take my seat—second row from the back. When I started at West Hayden the school year had already kicked off. The seat I occupy now was one of the few available. I love it, though, because I’m next to the window and can watch the world slip by.
The first few minutes are no different than any other. I pull out my books and go over some notes from the last class. Football practice has been kicking my ass lately, and I’ve not been studying in any subject as much as I should be. Luckily, this is my class, my peace. It’s something I love. So, I never struggle, I only relish it.
Mr. Stark instructs us to pull out our drawing pads and practice light versus dark in shading, using any object in front of us. Sighing with disappointment, I open my pad. This is commonplace, he asks us to do this when he hasn’t drawn up a proper assignment for class. Organizing some of my things, I set my water bottle and pen on my desk and pull my watch off arranging it in front of me. It’s not great, but it will have to do for now. My pencil makes the first strike against t
he paper when he walks in.
Casper.
I knew I’d see him around school, I’ve been expecting it. I guess I just wasn’t ready for him to appear in my favorite class. He’s bulldozed me by doing nothing except walking through an open door. If this is what my future looks like where he’s concerned, then I’m officially fucked, and I’m not sure it’s such a bad thing.
“Mr. Somerville, is that right?” The professor asks him almost the second he enters the room. Casper nods in reply. “Welcome to introduction to art. You have all the appropriate items needed for this class?”
“Yes, Sir,” Casper replies.
“Good, good. You’ll need access to a camera later on in the year. Not a phone camera, a proper one. Think old school,” Mr. Starks tells him with a grin.
“Noted,” Casper replies, an easygoing smile lounges across his lower face, like it’s at home there, as though you’ll only ever find him smiling.
“Find a seat. Draw something. Practice shading, and light versus dark,” Mr. Stark orders before looking back at whatever’s holding his interest on the desk.
Casper looks around the class, his gaze moves up and closer to mine. I feel my mouth drying out by the second. The moment his eyes clash with my own, I start coughing. Choking on dry air and humiliation. My cough dies down as water gathers in my eyes, and just like the night before, I find myself looking at a blurry Casper.
“Hey.” He chuckles. It causes a ripple effect through my body. Each cell knowing it belongs to him, to that voice, to that chuckle.
Drawing the back of my hands over my eyes and clearing the escaping teardrops, I hold up a finger and grab my water bottle. As I open the cap and take a long slug, Casper seats himself next to me. His physique reminds me of a swimmer—his upper body is sculpted with muscles, his legs leaner.
“Shit, sorry about that,” I manage to mumble out the few words once the cap is back on the bottle and I’ve settled my emotions. “How you liking this place so far?” I continue, not wanting to end our interaction, no matter how small.
“Yeah, it’s okay, I guess.” He pulls out his pad and pencil tapping the end against his lips. “No real difference to any other school.”
I don’t answer him, watching the pencil bounce against his full, pink, bottom lip is currently taking every ounce of my attention.
“Dude,” the sharpness of his voice pulls me from my fascination with his mouth. The moment my eyes meet his I know I’ve done wrong. His eyes are narrowed, lips pursed, and there’s a slight blush creeping across his cheeks.
“Sorry, yeah… I mean, n-no… no real difference,” I murmur.
Casper leans back in his chair and draws in a sharp breath. “Football facilities look good, though.” His voice is a little tight, but I’m glad he’s decided to ignore my blatant staring.
My brain turns over a couple of times before all my faculties are back in play, and I catch onto the fact he’s just mentioned football. “You play football?”
“Yeah, tight end,” he replies, and I want to comment something smutty, but I manage to hold it in.
“Offense,” I reply, and his eyes widen slightly.
“Which position.”
“Center normally.” I shrug.
“The team looks good by the stats I’ve seen. I guess we’ll be on the team together.”
“Guess so.”
Throughout the class we’re both quiet, pencil lead against parchment paper is all I can hear along with the low hum of the hanging lights. When class is over, we make our way out, and I clear my throat. “So, Casper, you heading to lunch?”
“Yeah.”
“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the other football players,” I offer.
“Sweet.” He walks in step with me. I’m reminded of how different our pace was last night. How much more relaxed we both were.
“Guys, this is Casper, the new tight end,” I tell everyone when we arrive at the table.
They all grunt words of ‘hi’ or ‘sup’ before going back to their food and conversations. We take seats at the table and start eating our lunch, chatting about the latest football game. I know when Tarrant arrives because they all start jeering him. The guys on my team love my brother. Scratch that, everyone loves my brother. I smirk up at him and shake my head when his eyes meet mine. His lip twitches and he takes a seat opposite, keeping a space for Laura and Morgan. A couple of freshman on the team try to take the seats. Tarrant looks up and slowly shakes his head, pointing his finger at them, and then toward the other end of the table. He—silently—denies them the seats, and they rush off with their tails between their legs.
“Tarrant, this is Casper. New to school, and it looks like the new football team’s tight end. Casper this is my twin brother, Tarrant,” I introduce them, and they nod at each other.
When Laura and Morgan arrive there’s a flurry of introductions, and my thoughts are momentarily taken from Casper as I focus on Morgan. She’s still acting strangely. Aaron, her ex-boyfriend, tries to talk to her and she snaps his head off. Then she quickly proceeds to get up and leave the table. Laura and I both stand at the same time and rush after her. All thoughts of Casper are pushed to the back of my mind as I barge through the crowd trying to catch up to Morgan, who’s surprisingly quick for someone so little.
“There...” Laura pants, pointing to the left. We spot her rushing around the side of the building, and we chase after her. “Morgan!” Laura shouts as we turn the corner, but she doesn’t slow down.
Pumping my legs harder, I catch her easily grabbing her by the shoulders. “Whoa there, M,” I mutter pulling her to a stop.
She spins around and reigns closed fist punches against my chest. She’s hitting me, but I can see the tears pouring from her eyes, and I know this isn’t about me. “Shhh,” I murmur hauling her against my chest. Laura walks around and holds her from the other side. We’re making a Morgan sandwich, trying to give her all the comfort she so obviously needs.
“I-I f-fucked up every-y t-thing,” she cries.
“I’m sure you haven’t, M. Talk to us.” Laura’s voice is tentative, she’s approaching the situation carefully, not wanting Morgan to clam up again.
“I…” Morgan shakes her head against my chest. “I c-can’t.”
“Tequila,” I offer. “We’ll do Tequila, and we can talk.”
“No. Not t-this time,” Morgan starts.
“Morgan,” Laura huffs out her name.
“No.” Morgan’s voice is stronger now. She pulls away from me, and in turn, Laura takes a step back too. “I need to figure stuff out on my own this time.” She glances up, her eyes pleading with me silently, before turning toward Laura. “I love you two…” she reaches out her hands and grips onto both of us, “…I really do. But I’m not ready to share. I have some things I need to figure out, and it has to be me, alone.”
“But Morgan—”
I interrupt Laura, “I can’t pretend we understand, because without knowing what’s going on, obviously, we can’t. But we want to, M, we want to be here for you.” I look toward Laura, who seems to be trying desperately not to speak, then back at Morgan. “You can tell us in your own time. We’ll give you that much. But if we see you in pain, see you upset, we’re going to come ask you. We’re going to want to help ease the burden. You have to understand that, right?”
She looks between Laura and me, then back again. Her shoulders slump. “Yes, of course, I understand. I know I seem like I’m being ungrateful, but I’m not, honestly.” Breaking free from our hold she walks over to a nearby bench. Looking around, I note the quad is pretty empty. I’m guessing everyone’s still in the lunch hall eating. Which, in a way, is a good thing as it gives us some quiet time. All three of us sit down and wait. “I did something stupid, I stole something and ended up getting arrested.”
“Oh my God, Morgan!” Laura gasps, covering her mouth quickly. I look toward her and shake my head slightly, hoping she’ll get the idea we need to let Morgan speak in h
er own time. She narrows her eyes at me, and I try to suppress a grin at her annoyance, before turning my attention back to Morgan.
“Max doesn’t know, and I don’t want him to,” she says referring to her older brother.
“What’s going to happen?” Laura asks softly.
Morgan shrugs and pulls at the cuff of her jacket. “I don’t know.” She looks across the open space and back to us. “Anyway, that’s why I’ve been upset and a little off.”
I know she’s lying, there’s more to it than what she’s telling us. But I can also see whatever it is, she needs to process it in her own mind first.
Laura obviously senses the same thing as me because she slips her hand into Morgan’s and gives her a squeeze. “Just know we’re both here, okay?” she whispers, and Morgan looks between us nodding. I can see the sadness and more than that, there’s hurt and fear in her eyes too. But she’s a trouper and holds it together before standing up.
“I need to get to class. Catch you both later?”
Laura and I nod and hum out our agreement before she walks away.
“There’s sooo much more to it than what she’s saying,” Laura growls the moment Morgan is out of earshot.
“True,” I agree. “But we need to let her be for now.” She opens her mouth to say something, but I hold up my hand. “Hear me out. There’s a reason she’s not sharing. She always tells us what’s going on. Sometimes she only tells you if she wants to be super private, but one of us will always know. If she’s keeping it to herself that has to mean she’s trying to work it through in her own head, right?” I question, and Laura begrudgingly nods. “We have to give her the time, and the respect to believe she’ll come to us when she’s ready.”
Conflicted (The Deliverance Series Book 2) Page 2