Chapter 19

Something kept nagging at me.

It wasn't the fact that I fucked up a crazy dude's truck, or that I had almost gotten into a fight with Wesley. Looking at Eli run across the gym court to shoot a basketball straight in made me realize a few things.

One: god damn, he's handsome with his hair pulled back like that.

Two: god damn, he's sexy when he uses his shirt to wipe off the sweat on his face.

Three: god damn, I need to stop staring at him.

And four: despite that he wasn't bothered by that one incident at my house, I couldn't help but feel embarrassed and stupid all over again.

Sometimes, when the basketball gets out and they have to pass it back and forth, Eli will look over at me and smile. And, boy, does my heart beat faster than should be healthy. I smile back and feel myself blush, then watch him jump back into another round. Ah, look at him being all suave and badass.

How can he be so normal? How can he pretend that I wasn't a little weird the other weekend? It's been bothering me just as much as the prospect of me fucking up a crazy guy's truck.

It's been bothering me so much that I've done nothing but look up how to properly have gay sex on the Internet in my free time. I almost got caught by Oscar looking stuff up on my phone and my excuse to him was that I was looking at slightly less gay shit, which he didn't question at all.

I've seen guys going at it a bunch of times on sites I really shouldn't be on. I've read smut, though granted it's not always the best literature out there... But why the hell is the actual thing so...daunting?

Is it because I'm self-conscious about my body? A little bit, but not enough to completely hide myself away.

Is it because sex is such a personal and sensitive thing? Maybe.

Is it because I'm a virgin? Yeah, kinda.

Or...is it because Eli would be my first?

And there's the kicker.

Thinking about Eli being my first definitely gets my nerves thrumming. I don't want to screw something up. I don't want to turn him off from me. I don't want to look like an idiot in front of him, even though I do stupid crap all of the time...

Eli. Eli. Eli.

"Calvin..."

It's Eli.

"Yo, Tae...!"

I'm not anxious because of him, but, at the same time, I am. Eli, Eli, Eli.

"Calvin, watch out!"

It was far too late for me to react to the basketball striking me across the face.

•••

"Be careful next time, sweetie," the nurse warned me in a soft voice as she handed me an ice pack.

I took the ice pack and held it against my mouth where most of the throbbing was. The nurse gave me a kind smile and turned to sit back at her desk. Eli stood next to me, staring at me with concern. "You okay?"

I nodded and murmured, "I'm just glad my glasses didn't break."

He sighed and sat next to me on the patient bed. Taking a hold of my hand and squeezing it, he said, "Not just the whole basketball thing. I mean, are you okay in general? You've been out of it a lot."

Bumping my shoulder against his, I chuckled and said, "I'm doing just fine."

Eli brushed his thumb against my hand before reluctantly saying, "...Okay."

Smiling warmly, I leaned my head against his shoulder, knowing he was starting to realize the growing discomfort I've been having since that incident. I hoped he didn't think this was his fault, because it's not. I'm happy he's willing to wait for me, but I still can't help but feel a little dumb.

"C'mon," he told me as he stood up, "the bell's almost going to ring. I'll walk you to class."

I held onto his hand while he carried both his backpack and mine. As we walked, I couldn't help but place my focus on his hand. His skin is so warm and his grip is so firm. I wanted to keep holding his hand, but he'd have to go to his own class. Hanging out after school isn't exactly an option, either, because he works today. I wanted to just...have him all to myself; to hug him, and kiss him, and touch him, and show him that I'm not such a nervous dumbass.

Without thinking, I lifted his hand up to kiss the back of his palm. He glanced down at me and smirked. "Cutie," he murmured lovingly. I blushed, but him saying that only made my longing worsen.

The bell had rung by the time we got to my class. Eli handed over my backpack and gave me a tender kiss on the forehead before saying, "I'll call you later when I'm out of work, okay?"

I nodded and kissed him back, this time on the cheek. "Have a good day. Say hello to Auntie for me..!"

The dark haired delinquent bore a gentle smile before reluctantly letting go of my hand and walking down the hall. Watching him go, I couldn't help but sigh.

I need him around more.

•••

Despite that it was mid-December, I still craved an ice cream from that shop that's near the school. Yani wanted to go with me, but apparently her aunt called her last minute to pick up her three cousins from school since no one else could. (She and I hoped this wasn't going to be a regular routine.) So, even without Oscar, I took a walk to the ice cream shop on my own.

Instead of having to hear the wind in my ears and cars driving by on the street, I popped in some earbuds and listened to music on my phone. Checking the battery on it, I sighed with some annoyance. I forgot to charge it to full last night, and out of all days, I didn't pack my charger with me. Still, all I had to do was text Appa that I'd be at school with a soon-to-be-dead phone.

As I was texting, someone grabbed at my arm and I accidentally hit send, only sending a simple 'hey, my ph'. I furrowed my brow and looked over to see who grabbed me. As soon as my gaze met a pair of piercing blue eyes, my pace faltered and I nervously pocketed my phone.

When I pulled out my earbuds, the first thing I heard come out of Wesley's mouth today was, "You're lucky I don't kick the shit out of you right now, Creep."

"Haven't you harassed me enough?," I grumbled, not even bothering to worm my way out of the situation.

"I don't think that really matters right now...," he muttered.

"Well, it does to me, so go away," I said, yanking my arm out of his hold.

He grabbed onto me again anyway and tugged me close to him. "Listen, as much as I'd love to shove you onto the street, I want to make a few things clear."

"What?," I hissed, narrowing my eyes.

"Did you tell anyone about what happened Saturday?," he asked, referring to me breaking the window of Anthony Turner's truck.

"Only Yani, and we agreed not to mention it to anyone else," I replied honestly. "And you?"

"Of course, I didn't tell anyone..," he grumbled, beginning to drag me along with him in a stroll.

Remembering that night, I gulped and said, "There were people outside."

"I know," he hissed, not looking at me, "but luckily they weren't from Turner's school."

"Still..."

"Don't get me more anxious than I already am, Creep," he muttered. "I've already seen on Turner's Facebook that he's fucking pissed at what happened."

"Maybe he won't find out."

Wesley sighed. "For the first time ever, I'll hope along with you..."

Glancing down at his hand still squeezing my arm, I asked, "Is that all you wanted to talk about? You could've texted..."

"Didn't feel like it. Plus, I was gearing up to kick your ass if you had told more people."

"Gee, how considerate."

"Thanks for noticing."

I flashed him a look. "I was being sarcastic."

"And I don't give a shit."

"Let go of me already," I grumbled, trying to pull myself away again. He kept his vice tight grip, glaring down at me with annoyance more than anger. Just when I was about to kick him, his expression changed to utter terror as he stared behind me.

Curious, I turned around to see what had him spooked and laid eyes on a red truck with a skull on the hood stopped at a stop sign we stood next to. The passenger window was still broken and through it I saw two guys in the front (two more were sitting in the back). One of them simply stared ahead looking bored, while the driver bore a fierce scowl. I could only guess that was Turner.

"We need to go," Wesley murmured, the fear present in his voice. Without hesitation, I nodded and pulled him along to cross the empty street in front of us. While we hurried across the sidewalk, trying not to look suspicious, a voice hollered from behind us. Glancing back, I saw the guy in the passenger seat point at us. Wesley's grip on my arm suddenly became tighter and I was almost afraid he'd cut off circulation.

The red truck pulled over next to us, and the guy in the passenger's seat asked us, "Hey, were you two at that party Saturday?"

Clearing my throat, I answered, "Y-Yeah." Wesley pinched my arm but I didn't glance back at him.

"Did you see the fucker that messed up this truck?," he questioned, pointing to the slot where the window should be.

"No, we didn't," I said. "We were inside the house."

"You sure?," the guy questioned again, narrowing his eyes.

"Positive," Wesley replied for me.

He frowned, then turned back to the driver, whispering. After an exchange I couldn't make out, the guy leaned towards us and said, "Alright, thanks."

"Sure thing!," I chimed, maybe a little too eagerly.

The guy glanced at me up and down before remarking, "Nice shoes, by the way..."

I looked down at my zebra patterned shoes and chuckled nervously. "Th-Thanks..."

Slowly, the truck drove away, and Wesley and I watched it turn a corner ahead of us. A minute after it disappeared, we were still holding our breaths. We finally inhaled and loosened up when the tension wore off.

"That was way too fucking close," Wesley panted, holding his chest.

"How long until they give up?," I asked.

The blonde haired man shook his head and answered, "With Turner, there's no telling. All I know is, I'm staying low for a while."

"Why are you so scared of him?"

He gave me a wide eyed look before replying, "Did my comment about him putting dead cats on our football field not get the message across?"

"Well, it did, but you seem more bothered on a personal level," I added.

Wesley glared at me for a good few moments before looking away and saying, "He's just a terrible guy, that's all." He started walking away and after watching his back for a minute, I rushed to catch up with him.

"Why are you going in the direction the truck went?," I questioned.

"I'm walking home," he grumbled, "my car isn't working right now. Why do you care?"

"I don't."

"Then screw off."

I frowned, but kept walking a little behind him. Once he noticed me, he growled and asked, "Why are you following me?"

"I'm going to the ice cream shop," I answered. "Like I'd follow you home, asshole."

"If I wasn't eager to get home, I swear I'd kick your ass right now..."

"You keep saying that, but..."

Suddenly, he grabbed the collar of my shirt and hissed, "Want me to punch your teeth out, you little bitch?!"

I didn't say anything else to intimidate him, but he didn't let go. Just when Wesley shook me again, I noticed a sliver of red move behind him. Gasping, I shoved him away and said, "He's back again...!"

"What...?!" The blonde haired man turned around and went pale.

The driver's side tinted window rolled down, allowing us to glimpse at Anthony Turner. Even from here, I could tell he was a built guy, and sported a shaven head. The glare he flashed us radiated hatred and sent chills through my body.

He knows. But how?

Then I remembered my shoes.

Fuck.

"Run!," Wesley said, grabbing onto my arm and dragging me along with him. My feet carried me while my mind was still caught up on terror. I sprinted along side Wesley as we ran back, trying to get to the school. We neared the end of the sidewalk right when Turner's truck skidded and pulled up in front of us from the right. At the last second, I yanked Wesley around the corner and we kept running.

We ran through one of those crummy looking neighborhoods, thinking Turner wouldn't speed through the road. Unfortunately, I underestimated just how insane the guy was when the truck roared behind us, tires screeching. "Dammit!," I exclaimed, panic racing through my veins.

As we ran, Wesley ended up tripping and falling on the sidewalk. Something scattered next to him, but I didn't have time to check what it was. I helped him up without thinking and pulled him back into a sprint again. While we were delayed from his fall, Turner's truck pulled up by the curb behind us. With one glance, I saw Turner and his three buddies hop out of the vehicle. That was enough to get me running faster. My chest was burning but my fear kept me going. I could tell Wesley felt the same as he ran beside me, his face already sheen with sweat.

We ended up leaving the old neighborhood and ran down a dirt alleyway that took us to a backroad. I still heard the four boys chasing after us and tried running faster. My legs already felt so tired and I was scared that they'd give out soon.

"Through there," Wesley panted, pointing to an old, abandoned house sitting within a grove of trees ahead. I wasn't sure what he was hoping to achieve, but I followed him anyway. When we arrived, Wesley ducked through the decaying doorframe of the house first, and I went next. Right when I passed the living room and turned the corner into the hall after him, I saw him fall into nothingness.

"Shit!," I hissed, stopping in my tracks before a gaping hole in the floor. It was too dark to see Wesley, but I could hear him groaning down there. Before I could figure out a plan to help him, the sounds of Turner and his friends entering the house startled me. With no where to go, I jumped down into the hole and landed on cold concrete. My ankles buzzed with pain from landing hard on my feet, but it was bearable. Looking up, I saw Turner and his friends look down the hole, laughing.

"Fuckin' idiots," one of his buddies cackled.

"Wanna go after them?," the guy who spoke to us earlier asked.

Turner only huffed and grumbled, "Leave them. Maybe they'll starve down there."

Without a moment to spare, they left the abandoned house, leaving Wesley and I down in what must be the basement. Once I couldn't hear their voices anymore, I looked around for the blonde haired man. My eyes adjusted to the dark quickly, and I saw his figure lying a few feet from me. Thankfully, he writhed, which told me he was still conscious.

"Hey, are you okay?," I asked, crawling towards him.

He sat up and held his right shoulder, wincing and panting. As soon as I lifted my hand to grab him, he smacked it away with his left hand and said, "D-Don't touch me..."

"What's wrong with your shoulder?," I asked.

There was a pause before he mustered up the strength to say, "I...I can't move my arm..."

Staring at him, I inquired, "Is it dislocated? If it is, I've gotta set it back."

"No," he grumbled, scooting away from me.

"Wesley, let me see." I grabbed for his arm, careful not to agitate him, but I was only shoved away.

"Get the fuck away from me!," he snapped, standing to his feet.

As a precaution, I stood up too, and argued, "I need to check if your arm is okay!"

"Don't touch me...!"

"Just let me see--."

"This is all your fault!," he snapped.

For a moment, I flashed him a shocked look, then shook it off and frowned. "My fault? How is this my fault?!"

"If you hadn't gone and broken Turner's truck window, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

As a defense, I argued back, "Well, I wouldn't have accidentally broken the damn thing if you hadn't wanted to fight with me!"

"Don't pin this on me!!"

"I'll pin this on you as much as I want!," I yelled back.

"Fuck you!"

I scoffed. "Nice comeback, Collins. Everything you say is just amazing and so original! I wish I could pull my words and ego out of my ass as easily as you do, but I guess we can't all be as perfect as Wesley fuckin' Collins: master of douchebaggery and king of all dumbasses--!"

In the blink of an eye, he rammed a fist across my face and I fell back onto the concrete. I could taste blood on my tongue as it dribbled down my chin. Standing in front of me, Wesley heaved as he glared down at me intensely.

"You're lucky my other arm is fucked up," he growled, left fist still clenched, "or else I would do more than punch you, you lousy piece of shit...!"

Sneering back at him, I spit out some blood onto the floor and wiped at my mouth. Wesley walked to the farthest wall from me, leaned on it, then slid down to the floor. He laid his head against the wall, clutching his shoulder as he rested.

Even though I knew he'd suffer from his dislocated arm, I left him to his own. Quietly, I asked, "Do you have a working phone? I can try calling for help."

Without looking at me, he muttered, "I dropped it when I fell earlier..."

That's what scattered across the sidewalk. Damn...

"Fine," I said, pulling out my phone.

Battery was at 12%. And there was no cell reception.

Gritting my teeth, I glanced at Wesley's crouched figure, then my bloodied hand, then up at the hole above us.

We're going to be here for a while...