If I Told You I Loved You, How Far Would You Run?

If looks could kill …

I would be a very dead man, since Ryan’s glaring at me as though he’d like nothing more than to murder me this very instant.

Mentally thanking Pete, I casually turn my head so Ryan can get a better view of the bright red mark on my neck. I know I’m being arrogant, but I just can’t being smug after all Ryan’s lead me on and ripped me down.

Pete gives me a wink and puts his arm around my shoulders. “You’re all so near and dear to us,” he begins, as though he’s giving a toast at a fancy dinner party, “and we thought that you should be the first to know: Brendon … and I … well, we’re dating. You guys are cool with that, aren’t you?”

And just like that, Ryan’s furious gaze moves on to Pete and stays there. Is our plan working? I wonder, feeling just a tad gleeful, but Ryan’s not the only one glaring.

Spencer is looking at me, clearing saying, Are you crazy?! And Keltie is pouting since Ryan’s not paying enough attention to her. Patrick and Gabe look pleasantly surprised, and William is positively bursting with excitement. But then again, he’s in on the trick, so …

“Brendon,” Ryan says flatly. “I had no idea you had such bad taste.”

In response, I pull my lips back in a snarl.

“Pete, though, you’ve managed to get quite the catch,” he continues, and I can’t help but blush and turn away.

Why is no one surprised that we’re gay or bisexual or whatever the hell Pete is?

“I hope you two are very happy together,” Ryan says in the same, dead voice, and it worries me.

One-by-one, as they finish eating, our friends clear their trays and leave the room. Ryan and I sit alone at the table, though both Pete and Keltie hover in the doorway, and I wonder if this is where step three comes into play.

“You know, Keltie’s made a great catch too,” I say softly, waiting to see what he’ll say.

“Yes, pity I can’t say the same about you,” Ryan says bitingly and gets to his feet. “I’ll be seeing you, Brendon, though if luck has it, I won’t.”

And then he’s gone, and Pete’s coming over to drag me out of my shell-shocked state and escorts me to my next class.

“It’s not working, Pete,” I say hopelessly. “He hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Pete says stubbornly. “He loves you.”

In my mind, I’m back in my bathroom with my razor in hand, outlining his name on my skin. Every single day, you’re hurting him. And why would he love a parasite like me?

“STOPPIT!” I scream, pushing him away from me. “DON’T!”

“Brendon?” Pete questions. “What are you—”

“Stop telling me these things!” I screech. “Stop building my hopes up only for him to tear them down again! It’s not helping! You’re not helping! You’re not helping me!”

Pete’s breath catches and he stares at me in wide-eyed shock. “Brendon,” he says and takes me in his strong arms. “Brendon.” And his kisses my neck tenderly. Right on my hickey.

“Stop trying to be Ryan!” I hiss, pulling out his embrace. “Because you’re not!”

“Brendon …” he begins, but I tear away from him and run off down the halls.

Screw pre-calc. Screw school, I think viciously, smashing into the boys’ bathroom. Screw Pete. Screw everyone!

Locking myself in the middle stall, I slam down on the toilet seat. It smells awful and all I can hear is my wracking sobs, but all in all, it’s not a bad place to hide.

Then I hear the pitiful whimpering coming from the stall next to me.