A Little Bit

Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Eli

My knee won’t stop jumping. I take a deep breath to try to calm my nerves. I don’t even have anything to be antsy about. I think I just want to get out of here.

Sitting up straighter, I crane my neck to get a better look out the window, taking note of all the pumpkins and scarecrows decorating the campus.

October crept up on me. I was too busy looking over my shoulder every day, waiting for a timid blond boy to show back up, but he never did and now it’s been weeks.

It’s what I wanted, so I’m happy, but I still can’t help searching him out and then being irritated at myself when a shard of disappointment wraps around me in his absence.

I can feel Terrence’s eyes on me from across the room. He’s been trying to hook up again ever since the party back when I first got here. And honestly, it was an okay lay, nothing to write home about, but I’m not interested, which is a problem in itself. I’m usually one to outsource my pleasure, even if they’re an overeager guy who can’t seem to let go.

But lately, my hand is all I really want, making myself come to the mind’s recollection of a sad sailor with blue eyes.

I know that sounds sad as fuck. I agree. Maybe I’ll take Terrence up on his offer in a few days. A palate cleanse, if you will.

Professor Neilson continues to drone on about some old-ass art at the front of the room, while I tap my pencil’s eraser on the desk, impatiently waiting for class to end.

“Okay. Don’t forget that sign-ups for The Astorville Art Foundation Exhibit end this Friday, so submit your portfolio to the board if you’re interested. You need to create one new work specifically for the event, which is in January so you have a good amount of time to get it done. This can go toward your exhibition credits that you need in order to graduate, so make sure to sign up! Don’t wait until the last minute. Thanks, guys. See you next Tuesday,” he says, ending his lecture and inadvertently shooting me out of my chair.

I need to sign up for that. My last school didn’t require us to have any art exhibition experience to graduate, so I have none. Just another way Astorville is a cut above the rest.

I’m speed walking out of the building, pulling a joint out of my pocket when I hear a breathless, “Hey. Wait up,” next to me.

Goddamnit. He caught me.

“Hey, man. What’s up?” I mumble around the joint between my lips, veering off the sidewalk and into the grass to light it.

He looks up at me, eyes sparkling. Everything about his outfit is preppy and pastel, just like everyone else here. Just like someone else. But it doesn’t work for Terrence like it works for Warren. Or maybe he just doesn’t affect me the same way Warren does.

Shifting from foot to foot, he watches intently while I cup my hands around the autumn breeze to light my joint. He really wants to fuck again. It’s written over every movement he makes. He needs to play it cool because the yearning is not helping his case with me.

“Hey. I haven’t heard from you in a while. Just seeing how you were adjusting to Astorville,” he says, a bright smile across his face.

I inhale deeply, taking a hit. “I’m good,” I say. It comes out clipped and strained while I hold the smoke in my lungs, letting it calm my nerves before blowing it out of the side of my mouth.

“Okay. Well, I was hoping we could hang out again. I had a lot of fun the first time. Like a lot,” he says flirtatiously, head angled down while his eyes flick up at me.

I give a noncommittal shrug while taking another hit. “Uhh, maybe. We’ll play it by ear. I want to submit my work for that exhibit thing Neilson was talking about, so I gotta create a new piece. It’ll probably keep me pretty busy.”

His shoulders immediately sag with dejection. “Oh, yeah. I was thinking about doing that too.”

I nod my head and we both look off at the orange and red leaves littering the ground as the conversation dwindles to uncomfortable levels of silence. I’m about to excuse myself when he blurts, “Are you seeing Warren?”

I swivel my eyes back to him, radiating a calm facade, but inside my hackles rise, sensing some type of invisible threat in the air about that question.

“Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles. “That was so aggressive. It just burst out. I saw you talking to him the other day. I just wanted to warn you. I have some experience there and it’s not a good time.”

I raise an eyebrow at him, still not saying anything. He watches me for a beat before explaining himself. “We-we had a thing. Well, maybe not a thing. It was a long time ago. My parents got invited to his mom’s fundraising party for her campaign. We had been making eyes at each other all night, so I was pretty sure it was a go, especially when he invited me up to his room.”

I don’t like where this story is going. My skin feels entirely too hot, tingling with an uncomfortable sensation.

He continues, “Anyway, he starts blowing me and then his dad walks in the room, because I guess we didn’t lock the door.” He pauses and widens his eyes for effect, but I still give him no outward reaction. “His dad had this crazy, shocked look on his face and then just stumbled out. Warren started freaking the fuck out. I was trying to calm him down. Telling him that he’d have to tell them that he liked men eventually, but he just kept saying, ‘You don’t get it. You don’t get it.’”

He shrugs and runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if you know anything about his mom. But she has an ultra-conservative agenda. Like everyone else here.” He rolls his eyes at that. “So, I mean, I guess I could see why he was kind of freaking out. He kicked me out and then I don’t hear from him again. Like ever. He won’t even look at me if we pass each other on the sidewalk. He’s so deep in the closet, not even the jaws of life can pull him out.” He chuckles at his little joke and looks expectantly at me.

I take one last pull of the joint then stub it out on the sidewalk and tuck the roach in my pocket. While I hold in the smoke, I look off at the ivy crawling on all the buildings and try to calm myself. Because now, I’m not feeling antsy. I’m fucking angry. Not only did he tell me that obviously private interaction, and out Warren, but he also got to see Warren on his knees. And only I should get to see that. How perfect he looks. How ruined he looks. Choking on cock. My cock, specifically.

Letting the smoke out, I turn my attention to Terrence’s enthusiastic smile. “Do you really think you should be telling that fucking story?” I say, a calmness in my voice.

His face falls. “I-I was just trying to tell?—”

I cut him off. “Seems like some pretty intimate information. Probably traumatic for him, even.”

“I guess. I didn’t mean to be insensitive. I was just trying to help you,” he mumbles, a vulnerable, sad expression on his face.

I smile at him. “Well, listen, Terrence. I don’t need your help. And just because I don’t want to fuck again, doesn’t mean I’m fucking someone else. It means I don’t want to fuck again.”

Somehow, his face falls even more, while he slowly nods his head. “Of course. I’m-I’m sorry. I’ll see you around,” he rushes out, then scampers off through the leaves.

Rolling my shoulders, I hike my backpack up higher on my shoulder and start heading back to my dorm, trying to ignore the green snake of jealousy suffocating me with every step.