I stood there like an idiot, watching Luke and Braden walk away until they disappeared around the corner. My knuckles throbbed. My chest felt tight.
"Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck."
I paced back and forth outside the locker room, running my hands through my hair. What the hell was wrong with me? I just called Braden a faggot. In front of Luke. My best friend since freshman year. The same Luke who came out to me recently and trusted me not to treat him any differently.
And I just proved I was exactly the kind of asshole he was scared of.
I wanted to throw up.
I grabbed my bag and headed to my car, but I couldn't even bring myself to drive home yet. Instead, I sat in the parking lot with the engine off, staring at the steering wheel.
I took my phone out of my pocket and opened our chat history.
Me: Yo, man, I'm sorry. I was pissed and took it out on him. I didn't mean it like that.
I couldn't send it. It felt too weak. Too late.
I typed and deleted the same message five times before finally giving up. Nothing I say is going to make up for what I did, and what if he demands an explanation? What am I going to say to him? Sorry, Luke, me and your crush made out in the bathroom, my dick got hard, and when I went to sleep, I dreamt of him jerking me off, so I punched him.
Hell no. Luke can't find out about this. Ever.
"Fucckkkkk," I groaned as I banged my head against the steering wheel. What am I supposed to do now?
This is all that asshole's fault. If he hadn't kissed me in the bathroom… Memories started to flood back. Shit. I slapped myself hard.
"Get it together, Zack," I muttered. "You're not gay. You're not. It was one weird night. One stupid kiss. That's it."
But even as I said it, I remembered how my body reacted in the dream. How hard I came just from his voice in my head. How I kissed him back in that bathroom like I'd been waiting for it.
I slammed my fist against the steering wheel again.
Okay. That's it. There's only one way to fix this, and that is to see Braden again.
But how do I find him?
Wait, I know where he lives. I started my car and drove to the dorm on campus. I put a hat on and pulled it down over my face, hoping no one would recognize me, and jumped out of the car. I quickly made my way into the boys' dorm, looking for the room number. Finally, I found it. I stood at the door, but before I knocked, I took two glances around. There weren't many people, but I was still cautious.
I took a deep breath and finally knocked on the door.
No answer. I knocked again.
The door swung open in rage.
"Who the fuck is it?" Braden stood in front of me, with a busted lip and a black eye.
As I stared up at him, a guilty feeling started washing over me. Damn… did I punch him this hard? No, fuck. Snap out of it. He is the enemy. Remember that.
Before my mind could go into a spiral, his low, angry voice cut through.
"How long are you gonna fucking stare at me? What do you want?"
"We need to talk."
"Haa," Braden scoffed, anger boiling through his eyes. "Some fucking nerve you have. An hour ago, you punched me, and now you show up at my door?"
"Look, can we not talk out here?" I said, still anxious someone might see me.
He moved out of the way, which signaled to me that I could go in. I quickly stepped inside, and he shut the door behind us.
Now the two of us were in the room together, along with heavy silence.
"Why are you here?" Braden asked, crossing his arms.
"I want an apology," I said. "And an explanation for why you kissed me that night."
Braden stared at me like I was insane, "Are you fucking serious? You punched me, and now you want me to apologize?" Braden snapped
Braden," I said, trying to stay calm, "did you not see what you did wrong? You kissed me in a bathroom without my consent, then mocked me like I was a fucking joke."
Braden stared at me for a second, then started laughing. He turned serious fast and started stepping so close to me that my back hit the wall.
"Zack," he said, his face close to mine, "you're not mad about the kiss. You're mad because you liked it. You're mad because your dick got hard while my tongue was down your throat. So tell me, Zack… who here really is the faggot?"
My blood began to boil. Anger started to build up.
Braden smirked, eyes dark and mocking.
"Oh? There it is. What are you gonna do now? Punch me again?"