CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
ANTHONY’S POV

I couldn’t sleep.

My mind was occupied by thoughts I didn’t want to think of, and I was as uncomfortable as if they were squeezing me into a clown’s car lying on that couch.

I was still very much mad at Blake and I still very much hated him, but I wouldn’t lie, I wish I hadn’t gone off on him like that, maybe then I would have been able to take on his offer of sleeping on his bed.

He had the audacity to be mad me when he betrayed me twice. He waited for me to fall for his charm again, to let my guard down and think that he was on my side, just for him to out me. Again!

Thinking about his actions in the ninth grade and his actions now succeeded in driving away what little sleep I had left in me. I tossed and turned on that couch, boiling to a thousand degrees, mad at myself for letting Blake use me again to satisfy his sick sense of humour.

Damn Blake Lindell!

My phone buzzed on the coffee table in front of me and I groaned in annoyance. It was way passed two in the morning, so who the hell was calling me?

For a brief moment, the delusional part of me that had trouble accepting reality thought it was Blake so I rushed to carry it. But reality set in as I stared at the caller ID and my annoyance was transferred to myself for even hoping that that bastard would call me.

“I know it’s late and you’re probably really mad right now since I woke you up and I know how much you value your sleep, but I really need to see you now. I miss you.”

Sigh. I couldn’t be mad at him.

Gingerly I got up from the couch, climbed upstairs and got my – Blake’s (ugh!) – hoodie from my room and then went back downstairs and out of the house without making a sound. I put my car in neutral and rolled it down a few blocks before starting it and driving all the way to Citrus Park. When I got there, Michael was already waiting for me. His face broke out into a smile when he saw me and I felt guilty as the memory of kissing Blake surfaced.

“I am so happy you came,” he said and kissed me. I tried to get into the kiss, but guilt was making it impossible for me to do so. I felt angry that I made out with someone as despicable and obnoxious as Blake Lindell. I was mad for cheating on sweet, innocent Michael with the likes of that two-faced nutsack.

“I couldn’t sleep and I kept thinking about you and the urge to see you just consumed me. I didn’t think I was going to make it to the morning without seeing your face.”

Why I didn’t like Michael was beyond me. I desperately wanted to like him – he was the perfect boyfriend! – but that idiot Blake Lindell kept showing his face in my memory box and kept pushing Michael out each time I tried to associate him with a fun memory. God, he was frustrating me even though we weren’t friends anymore!

“What’s wrong?” Michael asked noticing my dilemma. I sighed and rubbed my forehead. I wanted to lie to him and tell him everything was alright, but I couldn’t. Despite the fact that I wasn’t as attracted to him as he was to me, I still liked him and I didn’t want to keep hurting him. He may not be able to understand it now, but I hope one day he’d know I only had his best interest at heart.

“Michael...” I started, but he interrupted me before I could get the full sentence out.

“Do you want to break up with me?”

I was taken aback by his question. Yes, I did want to break up with him, but it wasn’t like that at all. How the hell did he figure it out?

“Michael...”

“Did I come on too strong? Was I clingy? I’ve been told I can be a bit clingy.”

“I like clingy,” I said in a lame attempt to make this better. I did like clingy, but not from him...or anyone else. He smiled, and I felt my heartstrings begin to break from how sad but genuine his smile was.

“But you don't want me,” he said flatly. I didn’t respond. I didn’t think I needed to because he knew.

“Sweetie, I’m sorry for getting you strawberry ice cream when you didn’t like it.”

“What?” I asked surprised. “How did you know I didn’t like strawberry ice cream?” I never told Michael about my preferred ice cream flavour. In fact, after the first time he got it for me, when we went on another date, he got it again. I didn’t want to tell him I hated it because he had struggled to get the last scoop for me and I didn’t want him to feel bad.

My boyfriend shrugged his shoulders and gave me a cheeky smile. I loved that smile of his.

“I think you’re the prettiest boy ever and I love that I got to kiss you first.”

“Now it sounds like you’re breaking up with me,” I said. He looked at me and his eyes were filled with these unspoken words that he wanted to speak but couldn’t.

“I would have loved to know everything about you – the kind of songs you listen to, your favourite food and what you love to do. But I guess that job is reserved for someone else. Man, it sucks that that person is the one I can’t stand in the whole world.”

I knew without a doubt he was referring to Blake. Still, there was no way Blake spoke to Michael about the things I liked and didn’t like. He hated the guy too much to even mention his name.

“If you’re referring to Blake, then...”

“I didn’t say it was Blake. You have a best friend, don't you?” I felt heat creep up my cheeks. It didn’t even occur to me that there was someone else out there who had my best interest at heart. Anderson probably talked to him. But when did Mchael and Anderson even get the chance to do that?

“I’m teasing you,” he said and tapped my nose. “You are too damn adorable; I can’t believe you’re not gonna be my boyfriend anymore.”

I was the one who didn’t feel the same way and so wanted to break up, but it seemed like I was the one getting dumped. My heart wrenched and it felt like it was being squeezed.

“Blake is a nice guy,” he said after a beat. I had to blink a couple of times to see if the person speaking those words was the same person I went to meet.

“You don't really mean that, do you?” He chuckled and faced me completely.

“Of course I do. I feel almost fine being dumped by you knowing that he’ll be there to take care of you instead. Dare I say, he may even do a better job than me.”

“Michael, you’re scaring me.” He laughed then and his laughter got carried by the light breeze.

“Well, it doesn’t really matter if you think he’s nice or not. Blake isn’t nice and we aren’t friends anymore so he’s not gonna be taking better care of me than you.” I sounded like a fifth grader for sure and I knew Michael thought so too. He had an amused look on his face and it was obvious how hard he tried to hold his laugh.

“What did that idiot do this time around?” I liked that he assumed that it was all Blake’s fault even though he didn’t hear the story. It made me like him even more, although it wasn’t enough to get back with him.

“It’s not just about what he did now. It’s also about what he did back in ninth grade. I know it sounds petty to bring up something from so long ago, but what he did last week kind of reminded me of that incident and it just pisses me off.”

“Do you mind sharing this terribly awful thing that Blake Lindell did to you in the ninth grade?

I haven’t spoken about it since it happened. I didn’t like thinking about it because it reminded me of the mess I had to go through at home with my father each and everyday. But here was Michael asking me about it, genuinely interested in knowing what went on in my life before so he could defend me properly. Maybe it was time to speak about it again.

“I was like this socially awkward kid who never knew what to say to people and didn’t even have the balls to make eye contact for more than a second,” I started. “But Blake was the exact opposite. See, we’d been friends since we were four and I only ever knew Blake Lindell, so I guess it was natural for him to have been my first crush.

“At first, I thought it was just that – a crush. A very harmless, very non-romantic crush. I admired him and I wanted to be just like him – beautiful, bold and an amazing friend. He warded off anyone who would so much as look at me like a weirdo. And I strongly believed Blake loved me more than anything. I was like his favourite toy that he wanted no other person to play with. He made me feel special and by ninth grade I realised I didn’t just have a crush on him – I was stupidly in love with him.”

Telling my now ex-boy friend about his nemesis that I happened to have intense feelings for felt weird and it made me a little uncomfortable. I knew he didn’t like the idea of me talking about another boy like that, but he paid attention and listened to me bitch about how Blake totally fooled me and broke my heart. Michael was amazing, but I still didn’t develop feelings for him.

“I was scared when I realised I liked my best friend. I mean, I was a boy and he was a boy and the normal thing was for me to like a girl. No one else seemed to be liking boys at that age, it was all about how many girls they’ve kissed and which girl liked which guy. No one said anything about a boy liking another boy, and those that did made it sound like such a taboo.

“My feelings for Blake started to gnaw at me and soon I was having sleepless nights, feeling anxious and getting mad at the slightest thing. It especially affected Blake because I wasn’t acting myself and it didn’t do well with his precious image. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I came out to him.”

“Blake was the first person you told you were gay? And you did that in the ninth grade?” There was something about the way he asked that question. He had a surprised smile on his face, as if hearing about this made him happy or something.

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell him I liked him though.”

“How did he react to it?”

“Well, he was shocked at first. I was shocked too so I don't blame him for his unsupportive reaction.  But after a few days he started to be cool around me again. He still treated me the same way, maybe even better and he made me feel special again. That’s when it happened. The Ninth Grade Incident.”

“It has a name and everything.” Michael was finding this very amusing and it was odd and quite annoying. But I’d already gone so far, I couldn’t stop telling the story, so I had to go on.

“It started with the stares. I would pass by a group of people and they’d start whispering loudly and pointing at me. Some would squeeze their face in disgust while others just scurried away as if running away from someone with leprosy. No one wanted to sit with me in class and they treated me more like an outcast than ever before.

“Then there were the notes that they passed in class. The boys would tell each other not to seat with me because I’d want to...you know...stick it up to them and the girls would ask me if I wanted a manicure or to play dress up with them. When I walked down the hallway, someone would ‘accidentally’ push me and then everyone else would do the same. By the time I got to class I already had bruises on my knees and then everyone would say I got that from sucking dicks in the boys’ bathroom everyday after school.”