Page 29 of This I Promise You
Well,it is!
“What? So we can fit into the heteronormative bullshit storybook idea of what it means to love and be happy and lead a fulfilling life? No thanks. I got enough of that from my parents before they knew I was gay and I sure asfuckdon’t need that from myqueersupposed friend. I told you to stay out of it and you didn’t fucking listen. You never do.” I’m fuming. “You just do whatever the hell you want like you always do. I was perfectly fine hating the dude and now I have to deal with him looking too fucking adorable in my clothes? Nah, I’m good on all that.Andif I ever wanna see that shirt again, which I do ’cause I really like that shirt, then Ihaveto see him again. I. Don’t. Want. That. You fucked up, Huxley. So instead of standing there looking all smug and happy about whatever you think is going to happen, you’d do well to mind your ownfucking business.”
And then I do the only possible thing that could follow my monologue without a rebuttal: I storm out of the kitchen into my bedroom and slam the door.
I don’t want her to be right, but fuck. Andwhy can’t I just talk like a normal person instead of exploding all the time? I don’t want to hurt people around me just because I’m hurt, just because this monster inside of me is tearing me apart.AndI hate that I might be falling for someone and she can see it. This is the last thing I need. I’m clearly too fucked up to be loved.
Easton
They All Just Want One Thing
“I say trash the shirt and never see him again.” Aidan shrugs on my phone’s screen, sitting in Tyler’s dorm room.
The thought crossed my mind, but the shirt’s not technically mine, so it seems sort of wrong. Even if Paul is a douche, he did come to the party when I was absolutely wasted and made sure I got home—well toahome—safely. Still, I’ve been dealing with damage control all morning. Aidan isn’t a fan, and when I didn’t text him back last night it sort of scared him. He thought I was in a ditch dead or something.
He’s calmed down, a little. Now we’re Facetiming and he’s going on about where I was. He absolutely lost it when I told him, and I might have yelled back that he was getting too involved in my love life—and I use the wordlovelightly. I apologized though, and I think we’re good now, he gets that I didn’t mean to end up at Paul’s house at least.
“Maybe he’s notthatbad,” I say, fully knowing the response I’m going to get.
“Not that bad? We are talking about the same asshole, right?” Aidan turns and resettles himself. He must have turned toward a window; sunlight stripes his tanned skin.
“Yeah,” I drag it out. There’s just something else there, like, yeah he comes off this brash asshole, but maybe we’re reading him wrong. “I mean, would a real asshole have picked me up?”
“Uh, yeah. To get in your pants.” Aidan’s eyes go wide like it should be obvious.
“Yeah, but he didn’t,” I remind Aidan for what’s probably the sixth time since this call started. “And would it really have been so bad if he had?”
The look on A’s face tells me it wasn’t the right response. But would it have been that bad? I mean how can you not just drool over that thick neck, and oh my, those abs. I didn’t need to see that, but God am I glad I did.
“Really? Yes. You have to stop falling for the bad guys!” Aidan rolls his eyes. “You are so much better than that, Easton! So much better. You’ve got a warm heart and you deserve someone who’s going to understand that and care for that. Not just have their way with you and leave you. You deserve love too, ya know.”
A few seconds pass and I can’t think of what to say to that. It makes something deep in my chest stir, but A just doesn’t get it. He’s got Tyler. He has it made. Guys like that don’t want me. They want cuties, or the hot twinks, not…whatever I am.
“Would a real asshole have cleaned my shirt for me? The one I puked on, by the way,” is what comes out instead. “Or hell, asked me to stay for breakfast? Like really?”
I don’t know why I’m trying to convince him. I have been mulling over that last bit all morning though. He asked me to stay for breakfast after I popped off at him. Who does that? And for a second, before Huxley came walking out and it all became clear what happened, I almost said yes.
My phone vibrates. Huxley.
HUXLEY: Could I treat you to Waffle House soon? My apology tour?
She’s been apologizing all morning, and rightfully so. When she came walking out at Paul’s place—actually, their place—I knew exactly what had happened. She’d given me his number during the party, not hers. Sneaky bitch. She says she didn’t mean for me to call him drunk off my face to pick me up. Something about hoping I’d try calling her later in the week and maybe it leading to Paul and me going out. Fat chance on that. Like, I want it, but it’s such a stupid idea. Aidan’s right even if I don’t want to admit it.
“But he’s still bad news!” Aidan complains. “You always go for the bad boys, East, like the really bad boys. They all just want one thing.One thing.”
I release all the air in my lungs with a massive sigh. He’s not wrong.
“Yeah,” I say right as my phone vibrates again.
HUXLEY: Oh! And maybe bring Paul’s shirt? Please!
HUXLEY: Wednesday, say 9:30pm?
The text pops up and I frown at it. She wants me to wait until Wednesday to give this damn shirt back? Whatever. I send a quick text back and make a mental note not to forget.
“Huxley wants to meet Wednesday to get his shirt back,” I tell A.
“Just get the shirt to her and be done with him, okay? Please,” Aidan pleads.
