Rush

by Nyrae Dawn

  That’s not him.

  “I knew spending time with them would help. They’re talking to him about football, and I can see how excited he is to heal so he can work toward getting on the field again.”

  Because he can lie about who he is there.

  Then she looks at me, with eyes just like Brandon. “And you of course. It’s so good for Brandon to have friends here for him.”

  “Thanks.” I cross my arms. “I needed to get away for a couple days anyway.”

  “We’re going to head in now, Mom.” Nate tells her.

  The three of us go back toward the house. The urge to stay out here is strong, but I push through it. We’ll hang out and Brandon will play his game and then when they leave, it’ll be normal again.

  As soon as Nate opens the door, I hear one of them laughing at something. Brandon’s house is huge, the sound almost echoing. We turn into the oversized living room, where everything is perfectly in its place. Brandon’s sitting in a chair. Even from here, I can see how tense he is, but who the hell knows if it’s because of them or me.

  Two guys are sitting on the couch, one on each end, and another in a chair “ ’Sup?” Two of them say at the same time.

  Nate and Charlie both tell them hi. I’m sure they’ve met the guys before. Charlie says they all fly out to games often.

  “This is Alec,” Brandon tells the guys. “He’s Charlotte’s best friend. We used to spend our summers in his hometown. Alec, this is Dev, Theo, and Donny. Dev’s our quarterback. Theo’s our kicker—”

  “Best fucking kicker in college football.”

  Brandon and Donny laugh at Theo’s interruption.

  “You’re so fucking gay. What you do wouldn’t matter if my ass wasn’t out there blocking for you.” Donny, the beefy one, shoves him.

  Brandon’s eyes burn into me even though I’m not looking at him. Charlie freezes as Theo and Donny talk crap to each other and I pretend I don’t want to slam my fist into all their faces. Maybe even Brandon’s too. Not because his friends are assholes because everyone I know throws the word “gay” around like it’s nothing but I can’t even be his friend anymore? I’m Charlie’s friend—oh and we used to vacation where he lives. What the hell is that?

  Finally the guys stop and Donny stands and holds out his hand. “What’s up, man? What did he say your name is again?”

  “Alec.”

  Theo and Dev say hi too before Donny asks, “You play ball?”

  I shrug. “Not really.” It’s a lie. I’ve always loved football. After meeting Brandon I used to secretly wonder if I could play somewhere one day too, but I don’t so I know that “no” is the answer they’re expecting.

  “Alec was really good when we were in high school. He could have played in college if he wanted to.” Charlie smiles at me like she just did me this huge-ass favor. I know she only wants to help, but she didn’t. It’s shitty, but they’ll think it’s a joke coming from her. If Brandon would have had my back, that’d be different, but he doesn’t say anything.

  None of the guys really say anything to that. I don’t mean for it to happen, but my eyes find Brandon who’s looking at the floor.

  “She’s kidding,” I say and they laugh like it’s a hilarious fucking joke.

  “We gotta bail in a little while. Wanna go downstairs and hang out?” Dev asks Brandon.

  “Sure,” he replies. Brandon winces as he stands, and I wonder if anyone besides me notices. I wish like hell I didn’t.

  “You should be taking those stairs a hundred times a day. You’ve lost like fifteen pounds,” Donny teases. “Get your ass in shape so you can get back on the field next year. We need our boy.”

  “Fuck, I got this. Nothing’s holding me back. Come practice I’ll be kicking everyone’s ass in drills like I always have. No other running backs will be able to touch me.” Brandon laughs and his friends do the same. He’s hunched over a little as they walk to the stairs that lead down to their family room where they have the big screen TV and pool table.

  I stand there waiting to see if he’ll tell me to come. He knows I know how to fake it too. There’s no reason not to tell us all to go down there with them, but he doesn’t. It’s not till they get to the door, that he looks over his shoulder right at me.

  I make myself turn away.

  Brandon and I manage to avoid each other the rest of the night. I chill with Charlie and Nate. When his friends leave, his mom doses him up with pain meds and he passes out.

  I go to bed early, in the spare room, but don’t sleep. To pass the time I play some games on my phone, before something makes me pull up Logan’s number.

  Hey. I text him.

  Hey. How’s your friend?

  How are you? Brandon is the last person I want to talk about right now.

  I’m cool . . . been thinking. Might be jumping the gun since you’re there with your boy, but not sure I wanna keep doing this.

  A deep breath leaves my lungs, and it feels like I don’t have any air left.

  He’s not my boy, but I get it. You’re smart to say that.

  And he’s a prick to fuck around with you.

  The way I did you? I ask.

  Nah. You never made promises. I just kept pushin’. You’re hot. Hard not to.

  A smile tries to pull at my lips. I wish I didn’t make it so hard.

  There’s a pause before Logan replies. You ever find your way away from your boy, you get a hold of me.

  Anger slams into me out of nowhere. I’m fucking pissed at myself and pissed at Brandon and even Charlie for calling me and telling me Brandon needed me when he doesn’t.

  K.

  I toss my phone to the floor. Thinking maybe Brandon had it right all along. Maybe I just need to lie and pretend like he does. Get a girl and find a way to be happy.

  I don’t know how much later it is that I hear the door open, see the shadow slowly step inside before it closes again. My heart kicks up. My brain telling me to say, “Fuck off” but nothing comes out.

  Brandon stands by the edge of the bed. It’s dark as hell in here, but I know he’s looking at me and I’m looking at him too.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, his voice cracking. “I was such a pussy. I could have let you come down. It wouldn’t have mattered. Christ, I’m so fucking sorry.”

  “You should be . . . and I’m sorry too. Come here.” The words come out more easily than they should

  “Ouch,” Brandon whispers as he gets into the bed.

  “Be careful.” Reaching for him, I try to figure out how to help him or where to touch him.

  “No. Just wanna hurry.” And then he’s lying down with me, but he’s propped a little higher on the pillow. “I want to be strong. Why the fuck can’t I be stronger?”

  But it’s not just him. It’s me too. Having him or not, I could have come out. “Maybe we’re not supposed to be. Maybe this is the way it’s supposed to be for us.”

  I feel him shake his head. We’re quiet for a little while when he asks, “Did I ever tell you about when I started playing ball?”

  “No,” I say, even though he has.

  “I was fucking up in school. I was young, like second grade or something. The teachers kept saying I didn’t try and that I interrupted in class. I got in trouble for a little while, but then Dad pushed and got me tested and they found out I was dyslexic. I didn’t know what it was, but it made me feel stupid.

  “They got me a tutor and it was this guy who loved football. If I worked really hard during all our sessions, we’d play football for fifteen minutes after every day. Found out real quick I was better at football than school.”

  “Shut up. You’re smart. You worked your ass off and you do well now.”

  “Not as well as I play ball and I only did well so I could play. I’m . . . I’m so fucking scared I’m going to lose it and if I do, I’ll lose me. Even if it’s not because of this heart thing, but because . . .”

  “ . . . of me.” If he
ever tried to be with me, that is. He thinks if people knew about us, he’d lose the team. I try to pull away, but Brandon’s hand grabs my waist, his fingers digging into my skin.

  “Not because of you. Because of me.”

  We’ve done this so many times in the past, even when we were a thousand miles away and only on the phone. That’s how we really started—just talking. We could always talk.

  “That’s why I can’t and I know that’s fucked up.”

  I don’t reply because there’s nothing to say that will make a difference.

  “Wanna know something else? I’m scared to start trying to work out again too. Scared I’ll fail and lose myself and scared I’ll succeed and have no choice, but to keep on being who everyone expects me to be.”

  That last part, I didn’t anticipate.

  Suddenly, I really want to touch him, but I don’t know where or how because he’s hurt. One of my hands finds its way to his chest, as I roll over and face him. Even though he’s lost weight, I feel the muscles under the skin and the rough edges of his bandage.

  If I wasn’t so scared too, I’d do more. Be like Logan and let my hands slide under his shorts. He should be the first guy who I touch like that. It took us summers to work up to touching on the outside of our clothes when we were kids.

  “I lied to you about Logan. I mean, he’s real, but there’s not a whole lot going on with us. He tried, but I freaked out. It’s not fair that I push you when I’m just as locked in the closet as you are.”

  Brand tenses for a second. “I still hate that another guy has touched you.”

  “I hate that girls have touched you. Hate that you’ve probably fucked them and held them and gone out together with all your friends.”

  His silence is all the confirmation I need. When I start to pull away again, his grip tightens. “Once . . . I slept with someone once and I felt like the biggest piece of shit in the world. Even worse than with Sadie. I haven’t even dated another girl since then. It’s been a year, Alec. A year and the guys talk shit, but I can’t do it.”

  It’s the same as always, not that I’m surprised.

  “I’m going home tomorrow.” I need to get that out there now. All these things he tells me will make me hold on to him. I gotta stop holding on.

  “You could stay.” His words are so soft, I hardly hear him. “I want you to stay. The guys are gone. My parents won’t think anything—”

  “No. It’s not that easy anymore.” Even though the words hurt, I almost feel like they build me up too. It’s time to step off the roller-coaster ride for good. Not to try and be straight either—to try and be happy.

  Silence.

  Finally, what feels like forever later, he asks, “Can I stay in here tonight?”

  I nod and he looks down and I look up and I have to taste him. I lean forward, my lips on his, but I can’t go slow. My tongue pushes inside and Brand moans. It’s like our tongues are fighting, both trying to take possession of each other and his hand tightens on the back of my neck like it always does and if I just go lower . . . I can dip my hand under his shorts and wrap my fist around him and touch him like I’ve always wanted to.

  I shift, hungry, urgent, crazy, wild, and try to push forward and—

  “Ouch. Fuck!” he hisses.

  “Shit. Your chest. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay.” His hand is still on the back of my neck. “Jesus, I fucking missed you.”

  We both relax back into the bed and just lie there. He pulls my hair and rubs my neck and again I wonder how this can be wrong. How feeling comfortable with him, how belonging with another person can cause so much pain and anger.

  Finally, after hours of lying here, I’m almost asleep. Before I go out, Brand says, “When they fixed my heart, I wish they would have fixed me. Made it so I wasn’t so weak.”

  I don’t answer. Nothing will change it anyway.

  When I wake up in the morning, he’s not in my room.

  Chapter Four

  Brandon

  I sit in our workout room, earbuds in with no music playing like I’ve done way too many times over the past month since Alec left. That tingle beneath my skin whips through me, hungry, eager for the sting in my muscles and sweat beading on my skin that I used to get lifting. That I should feel take me over right now as I pretend to work out again.

  I want it. Want that burn and pain because it’s been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Every time I try, I see my muscles failing. If I don’t try, I won’t discover I can’t do it. Yeah, I know I’m not doing it now but that’s by choice, not because it was taken away from me.

  Even to myself it doesn’t make sense but it doesn’t stop me from using the excuse. A lot of things I’ve done haven’t made sense.

  Before Alec has the chance to climb out of that dark corner I make him hide in in the back of my head, I push to my feet. My T-shirt hangs on me looser than it used to, but taking it off is worse because then it’s easier for the scar to taunt me.

  For the millionth time I wonder if I shouldn’t have refused the rehab and personal trainer my parents and my team tried to force on me. At least then I wouldn’t have a choice about doing what needs to be done. All the doctors are enough though. I know what I’m doing. I don’t need someone breathing down my neck.

  Turning, I head for the staircase from downstairs to the main level of the house. It’s only about ten steps, which I take two at a time. As soon as I round the corner, I see Nate sitting in a chair. “Done pretending to lift already?”

  My brother didn’t used to call me out on my shit as much as he does now. I’m caught between having respect for him and being pissed off. “Can still kick your ass, little man.” I fall into a chair beside him.

  Laughing, he shakes his head. “Asshole.”

  Well we know that’s the truth. I’m pretty sure Alec would say the same thing. Without asking, I grab his water bottle from in front of him and take a drink. “Where’s Charlotte?”

  “She’s got some volunteer thing going on at school. It’s her last day and then we gotta get ready to go to Virginia.”

  He takes the bottle from me and finishes it off and all I can do is sit back and watch him, wondering if he knows how fucking easy his life is. I’m not mad at him for it. More power to him, but it must be nice not to have people who expect certain things out of him. He has the girl who he’s been in love with since he was fifteen years old. He’s smart and has plans that he really wants. His life is perfect.

  “Cool.” I screw around with my iPod, not wanting to look at him. If he starts talking about Lakeland Village I run the risk of him talking about Alec.

  “So you scared or what? Why do you sit down there and pretend to exercise every day?” He gets this cocky smile on his face and I know he realizes exactly what he’s doing.

  “I’m not scared. That’s ridiculous. Maybe I’m just not feelin’ it anymore.”

  “Sure you’re not.” Nate pushes to his feet, and my arm automatically flies out to grab his arm.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  He grins again. “That you’re full of shit.”

  Shaking my head, I let go of him. “You’re a comedian now?”

  “You make for easy jokes. Did you hear the one about the football player who didn’t love anything like he loved ball, but when he ran the risk of losing it, he sat back and pretended to fight for it, while he really did jack shit?”

  Anger burns through me. Without realizing I even got up, I have Nate’s shirt in my hands, and I’ve pushed him against the wall. “Fuck you.”

  Nate’s breathing heavy when he says, “I’m sorry. Shit. That was an asshole thing to say.”

  My fingers don’t work when I try to pry my hands away from him. I’ve never hit my brother in my life but my fists are begging me to do it right now. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “How am I supposed to when you don’t tell me anything? I thought . . .
I thought we got over that when you told me about Alec. I’m your brother, man.”

  At that my hands slip away and I turn my back to him, not because I’m pissed at him, but because I’m an asshole. Growing up we were like any brothers, I guess. We fought all the time but we still always had each other’s backs. He didn’t know that practically everything he knew about me was a lie. Yeah, I was all about ball but not for the reasons he thought.

  Then . . . then I told him about Alec and I know he thought that meant things would change but I’m still lying. The only person who really knows who I am, I push even farther away than I do everyone else.

  “Talk to me.” Nate steps around me.

  “You’re hanging out with Charlotte too much. You’re getting soft, bro.” He rolls his eyes at my attempt at a joke. “It’s not that big a deal. I’ll figure it out like I always do, yeah? Maybe it just feels good to have a little break from the routine. There doesn’t always have to be some huge reason behind everything, Nate.”

  Before he has the chance to reply, my cell rings. As soon as I pull it out of my pocket, I shake my head. “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hi, sweetie. I wanted to check in with you to see if you need anything before I come home. It’ll be about an hour or so.”

  Nope. And if I did, I could get it myself. “I’m good. Thanks though.”

  “How’s your day? I bet it feels good for you to be back in the gym.”

  Tightening my fist, I squeeze my phone. She’s trying to help and that makes me feel even worse about my anger, but it’s hard. Our parents have never really been the clingy type. Dad was always working at the university and Mom always had her own projects going on. Even when we’d go to Lakeland Village for the summer, we did our own thing. Nate and I have always been used to having freedom and pretty much doing what we want. Every time she asks me if I’m okay it reminds me how much shit has changed. I mean, I don’t want to make it sound like they were shitty parents. We knew they loved us, they just weren’t overly involved.

  “I’ve always loved working out.” It’s not a real answer but she doesn’t seem to notice. Mom rambles on for a few more minutes before I manage to escape the conversation. Tossing my cell to the table, I look at my brother. “I know they just want to help but they’re driving me crazy.”