We'll eventually be...

I sat there…waiting for someone to pick up, someone, anyone, please. And then he did. That masculine voice I hadn’t heard in so long. “Hello?” I quickly hung up and threw the phone in my purse.

/////

“I think he’s GAY!” I sobbed into the phone.

“Wait, honey, calm down. What happened?” Turk asked calmly.

“I- I walked in on him.”

“Doing it with a GUY?” she questioned.

I shook my head even if she couldn’t see me. “N-n-no!” I wailed. I turned my music up so my mom couldn’t hear me.

“So what happened?” she sounded breathless as if she’d been running.

And so I told her the story. I had just gotten off the bleachers when I was reading. I was walking towards the other side when I heard the whispering voices.

“I can’t do this.” a familiar voice hissed.

“Please. Please?” the other -Grant, apparently- voice replied.

“Once I start again, I-I can’t stop.” the first voice replied. Why was it so familiar?

“You know you like it, Booth.” Booth? As in Nick Booth? My boyfriend, Nicholas Booth?

I peeked under the bleachers. It was Nick and Grant, Grant Hutcherson.

“I…I really would like this to happen.”

“You’re the only one who treats me well.”

“My girlfriend wouldn’t like this. Not at all.”

“You know you want to, Nick. Please.”

Grant stuck his hand out. Nick hesitantly reached out for it. Grant pulled him into a hug. He pulled back a bit and looked into Nick’s eyes. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve done this. “

And that’s when I dropped my book. It attracted both of their attentions. I could feel my cheeks redden and my eyes water. I reached down to grab my books, putting my hair in front of my face to try to hide my face. “Mia?” Nick asked.

I picked up my books and dusted myself off. “I’m…just gonna…go now.” I squeaked as the tears threatened to fall. And I ran.

“MIA!” Nick yelled. No, no, no. I wasn’t going to listen to him. No, no, no. Never. And I ran all the way to the bus stop, where I sat down for the bus. But what if he followed me? So I got up and walked home.

/////

I sat at the bus stop, waiting and waiting. And then I though, “Fuck this.” and got up and walked.

/////

Now, you may be wondering why I thought he was gay. I mean, any girl who walks in on her boyfriend hugging a guy would probably just be weirded out, right? But this was Grant Hutcherson. With his curly brown hair, girl like face and long eyelashes, he was known for turning straight guys gay.

He had turned the football captain gay and they were caught making out a couple of times. But he dumped the captain because he wouldn't put out. When he dumped Andé Jacobs, the amazing artist turned into a suicidal gay mess.

And by the time I got home, my face was soaked and I was a mess. I ran into my room as soon as I got inside the house and dialed Turk’s number.

“And here I am.” I sobbed. Turk didn’t reply. She only panted.

There was a loud thud outside my window. “Shit!” Turk shouted on the phone, but I
could hear her outside. I looked out my window to see Turk climbing the vines that led to my window. My tiny ass attic window. Which was the fourth floor of my house. I opened the window that I barely fit through and helped Turk into my room.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my tears long forgotten.

Turk collapsed onto my canopy bed. It swung a bit. She threw her bag at me. “I brought reinforcements.” She inhaled sharply as I looked at her, confused. “My best agents. Ben and Jerry.”

“Oh, my two best friends.”

“What about me?” Turk asked, feigning hurt.

“You are THE best friend.” I said as I hugged her. I pulled the tubs of ice cream out. Pistachio for me and Everything But…for Turk. She pulled out some spoons.

“I also brought,” she dug through the bag, “Red Vines, Mountain Dew, oh and Zombieland.”

“I love you.” I replied.

“I know,” she answered, cracking a smile. She popped in the DVD and I opened the tubs of ice cream. Worrying about Nick could wait ‘til tomorrow.

/////

I had reached his dorm. What was I gonna do? What was I gonna do? If you haven’t caught on, I didn’t know what to do. The last time he saw me didn’t end so well.

/////

After my day of indulgence - and a talk with Turk- I decided to ask Nick clearly what was going on. I needed to know. I was his girlfriend. I was entitled to this information.

So I set out to talk to him, instead of in the movies where the heroine avoids the awkward-ness at all costs and ends up hurting the love interest. No, my life wasn’t going to play out like a movie.

He was the one avoiding me. I didn’t see him in Chemistry or in the halls. But I
found him, under the bleachers. His head in his knees. I walked over to him and a strange scent washed over me. “Nick!” I shouted. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

He didn’t say anything. Just like always. “Nick, please. I wanna know what was going on.”

“Nothing, Mia.” he mumbled.

“There is something. Are you gay?” I asked frankly.

“What?” he yelled. “Is that what you think it is?” He asked. His breathe reeked of the scent. I coughed. “Get away from me.” he told me.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, leave!” he shouted.

“WHY? I’m your girlfriend. I should know what’s going on!” I screeched.
“
YOU CAN’T BE HERE. NOT WITH ME, NOT NOW!” He shouted.

“WHY?!”

“BECAUSE I JUST SMOKED SOME POT!”

Was that the scent that made it hard to breathe? “What?” I asked softly.

He pulled me out from under the bleachers. “I’m an addict. I do drugs. The smoke isn’t good for you. That’s why I wanted you to leave. Yesterday, Grant was in desperate need of money, but he wanted to smoke his pot. When ever I bought from him, I’d share it with him. So he wanted me to buy it from him then share it with him, but I stopped doing drugs after the incident. You had asthma. It wasn’t good for you to be around this shit.”

I looked into his remorseful eyes. They were so sad. So so sad. It made sense. That’s why he was under the bleachers. That’s why Nick was “special.” That’s why Grant “needed this.”

“And now, that I’ve started again, I’m going to have such a hard time stopping.”

I took my hand in his. “It’s okay.” I answered, kissing his hand gingerly. “I’ll help you.
We’ll get through this together.” I answered as he pulled me in for a kiss. It was absolutely wonderful. But there was something off about it. The scent was so..overwhelming. But I waved it off. It would probably just take some getting used to. Then I repressed the urge to cough.

/////

I into the dorm only to be stopped by a guy only a bit older than me. “And you are here for….”

/////

I sat there and waited for Nick. He was going to go to New York in an hour. He should’ve been there in a few minutes. And suddenly, it was dark. There were fingers covering my eyes. I giggled. I knew who it was, but this was my favourite game.

“Guess who?” Nick asked.

“Pauly is that you?” I asked in a southern accent. “I’ve been awaiting you for so long. I’d like you to come and make me happy.” I said coyly.

“Well, dear, I’d like to do somethin’ better to you, darlin’.” He replied in a southern accent.

I put my hands up to pull his hands away from my face. I turned around and he kissed me. But it was gone. That whole spark. Gone. Lost. But that’s okay. They said weed dulled the senses. Maybe I just, finally got used to it. Then we broke apart.

“So…are you excited?” I asked.

“Why are you so Awkward Aunt?” he replied.

“Whaddaya mean?”

“You’re askin’ me all this small talk.”

“It’s fun to make people awkward!” I answered. Out of the corner of my eye, this short guy who was almost bald. He waved. Oh, how familiar he looked. I waved back.

“Who’s that?” Nick questioned. “Some guy you’ve been seeing behind my back?” he asked aggressively.

“He looks familiar.” I replied.

And then he did the unbelievable. He slapped me.

/////

“Well…there’s this guy that I’ve known since forever and I haven’t seen him in so long and he came back and the fake dru---“

/////

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?” I hissed, not wanting to cause a scene.

“You lying whore. Who the hell was he?” He gritted through his teeth.

“I don’t know!”

He held up a hand. “Whatever, slut.”

“What are you on, sweetie?”

“Nothing. I’ve stopped.”

“Are you okay?” I asked gently.

He leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Nothing’s wrong you piece of crap.”

What was with this change of attitude? What was this smell?

“Are you drinking?”

“Goodbye, wanker.” he said as he walked onto his train.

What was going on?

/////

He held up a hand. “Anyways, we have a strict curfew. If you want to stay past 8 PM, you have to check in with me.” he said, stretching out the “anyways.” “I’m Doyle, by the way.”

“Mia. I’m looking for Eric?”