We meet early at Tyson’s house. After our run, Tyson offers me the shower first. Twenty minutes later I’m in black jeans with a purple polo, half tucked in, half out. I’m even wearing a belt. Tyson tells me that I can wait in his room if I want. While he showers, I sneak across into the art room. This room was the scene of the crime five days ago. His stunning creations are as amazing as anything we’ll see at the museum later. To me anyway.
As I head back to his bedroom, Miranda intercepts me in the hall. Even though the shower is on and there’s no way Tyson can hear us, she leans in and whispers, “I’m guessing Tyson didn’t tell you, but Sunday is his half-birthday.”
She sees the confused look on my face and explains. He turned 18 six months ago, but his whole life, their parents didn’t think it was fair to him to have to celebrate his birthday just after Thanksgiving and so close to Christmas. The weather is bad, people are busy, you get gipped on presents… So, they always celebrate his half-birthday instead.
“Our parents won’t be back from New York yet and, well, I just thought you should know.” She disappears down the hall.
Shit. I was already cast to be the villain in our little drama. What the fuck do I do now? Do I break his heart (and my own) at midnight ruining both prom night and his sort-of-birthday, or do I wait, making it worse later? Either way, is anyone on planet earth a bigger asshole than me?
No, no, no. I have to remind myself that the right decision isn’t just the right decision for me. He has a whole world of opportunity ahead of him as well. No matter what direction he goes in, I know Tyson Courtland will win at life. I have no right to stand in his way.
I have to stop thinking. Fuck.
~~
It’s our ninth day together, but I can’t help getting a giddy feeling about being in Tyson Courtland’s bedroom again. I mean, come on, he’s Tyson Courtland. The Tyson Courtland. His room is as neat and clean as the first time I was here. Other than a couple pairs of Shaq-sized sneakers in the corner, everything seems to be in perfect place.
When I used to have erotic dreams about Connor, one of them was of me being alone in his bedroom. I would snoop through his things, find his underwear drawer, go through his hamper of dirty clothes, try on his oldest, most beat-up sneakers, steal some souvenirs, etc. As I wait alone in Tyson’s room, it’s not just that I won’t allow myself to do those things…I don’t even feel the impulse to. I don’t want Tyson’s things. I want Tyson.
I sit down on his bed and the shower turns off. Within a minute he walks into the room wearing a pair of jeans, but nothing else. He moves around in front of me like it’s no big deal. I feel my heart rate kick up and I know that I’m blushing. Tyson notices and asks if I’m okay. I just nod and I can’t rip my eyes away from him. Suddenly I wish we were spending the day at the beach or a pool or anywhere that he could remain shirtless. I force myself to divert my gaze before I get caught ogling.
Tyson looks me up and down, “You look good. I like the color.”
I blush again, but I take a chance and say, “You look pretty damn good yourself right now.”
Fortunately, he laughs. I stand and walk up to him. I put my hands around his waist and pull him in close. I crane my neck up and we kiss. Our first kiss was amazing and each one since has only gotten better.
Just then, a throat clears from behind us and Miranda says, “You really should remember to close your door.”
We separate quickly and this time we’re both blushing. Miranda disappears and I say, “Oops.”
Tyson slides his big feet into socks, pulls on a shirt and says, “I guess I should talk to her…soon.”
I step up to him again and take his hand. “Speaking for myself, getting busted was totally worth it.” I give him my best charming smile and he squeezes my hand.
The museum awaits. “Let’s bounce.”
~~
My parents are gone all weekend for my older brother’s college graduation and my kid brother is sleeping over at a friend’s house. I cook Tyson dinner at my house. After, he offers to help clean up. We’re standing side by side in front of the sink. We turn and face each other. Tyson spreads his legs about three feet apart so that he doesn’t have to crane his neck down and I don’t have to stretch up. We’re the same height now. Almost. He puts his hands on my hips and we do my favorite thing. His hands work their way under my shirt and onto my bare skin. I quiver from his light touch and goosebumps spring onto my flesh. In this moment the whole world seems to shrink down to just the two of us, right here, right now. Soft tenderness turns to rough passion. My whole body is responding and I squeeze him tightly. I wish we didn’t have to go to that fucking bonfire. I just want to stay in with Tyson and watch a movie curled up together on the couch. Keep doing more of what we’re doing. But responsibility is like a kick in the dick. I suppose we istanbul travesti are the poster boys of inclusion week. Sigh.
We finish the cleanup and I run up to my room, swapping my polo for a hoodie. The temperature is supposed to drop this evening, so better safe than sorry.
I give Tyson a reluctant, “Lets bounce.”
~~
There’s a group of protesters across the street from the school parking lot. As we get close enough to read their signs, we’re assaulted by their hatred and ignorance. Their chants match the hate-speech on their signs: “GOD H8S FAGS”, “YOU’RE GOING TO HELL”, “AMERICA IS DOOMED” and “FAGS ARE BEASTS”. Tyson reaches over and squeezes my hand as he passes by them and turns into the parking lot. I recognize about half of them as people from our class, including Hannah, Stacey, Kevin and Ricky. My heart rate kicks up and my face flushes in anger.
Tyson says, “They don’t matter.” He squeezes my hand harder. “I could turn around and we could leave. I think people would understand.”
I would have jumped at the chance to stay home with Tyson an hour ago, but now that we’re here…I say firmly, “No. They don’t get to win.” I have to remind myself that they are the minority. “We shouldn’t be surprised. Based on the Facebook comments going all the way back to our promposal post, we should have known this was coming.” I turn and look at him, “What about you? Some of those people used to be your friends.” He cringes.
“Besides questioning my own judgment and intelligence…”
“No. Don’t. You don’t know who people are until they show you. This isn’t on you. Fuck them.”
We find our fellow council members and offer our assistance, but Ellen and Heather have everything under control.
Mrs. Horan is also here as the nominated school representative to ensure safety and appropriate behavior. She informs us, “The police have been notified of the protesters and they plan to drive by periodically throughout the evening to ensure the protest remains peaceful. We’ve been asked to not engage with them. We should call 911 immediately if the situation changes.”
Somehow Mrs. Horan’s announcement leaves me feeling less comforted and more uneasy. But the protest is across the street. I look around and I see friendly faces. I see Danny, Layne, Troy, Gabe, Ellen, Heather, Connor, Natalee and many others. We’re good here. We might as well enjoy the night.
There’s a s’mores-making station. Even before I gave up sugar, I never liked s’mores. I don’t get it. No matter how perfectly a marshmallow is toasted, it will never be hot enough to melt a square of chocolate. And marshmallows gross me out anyway. They’re like eating sweet foam rubber. Yuck.
The music is loud and the fire is roaring. There’s a Glow Stick Capture the Flag station and a Team Scare Competition. Tyson and I defeat all challengers in capture the flag. As the evening progresses, couples begin to gather around the fire. We’re standing near Danny and Layne and Natalee and Connor. Tyson is holding my hand, but most of the couples are kissing. Tyson and I are not “out” in general. Hand holding is one thing, everybody knows that we’re “together” for the week, but kissing in front of everybody? Tyson leans down and whispers, “Follow me.”
We slip away from the group, away from everyone. Tyson takes me under the bleachers on the “home” side of the football field. This is even farther away from the protesters — farther away from everyone. Nobody else is around. Because there’s an outdoor school event, the field lights are on, but under the bleachers it’s shadowy and dark. Tyson says, “We haven’t really talked about public displays of affection beyond handholding. I thought we could use a little privacy.”
I rest my forehead against his chest. “Hmm. PDA is a weighty subject. What are your thoughts?”
“I already told you, there is only one person whose opinion matters to me. I’d rather make prom week more memorable for us than worry about what others think. But if you’re not ready, then I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“We should talk about it, but right now, we’re alone.”
We begin to lean into each other and I hear something. Urgent pounding footsteps. Someone is running and the sound is getting closer. Suddenly the runner is upon us, slamming full force into Tyson, who, with an oomph, literally goes airborne and lands ten feet away.
I can see now that it’s Kevin Johnson. Kevin looks down at Tyson as he’s splayed on the ground and says, “I knew you were a fucking fa-“
“Hey, asshole,” I cut him off. I stop him from saying that word, but he barely registers my presence. Either I don’t matter to him or I’m just a slight nuisance, easily dealt with after Tyson. I can see that Tyson, still on the ground, has had the wind knocked out of him. He’s desperately trying to breathe in but can’t. He can’t do anything right now. Kevin’s attention is 100% on Tyson and he begins to move toward him. I’m no physical match istanbul travestileri for Kevin Johnson, but I have to at least buy Tyson some time. I have to give him a chance to recover and find his air or Kevin will kill him. I remember what Tyson had told me about Kevin being strong, but slow. Just don’t let him catch me. I also remember how Tyson goaded him into throwing a punch.
I try to get his attention again. “Hey, Tiny Dick!” This stops him. As he turns to look at me, I notice that Stacey, Hannah and Ricky are all watching from a distance. Those three homophobes are the only other people around. No support for our side anywhere. It looks like Hannah has her phone out and is recording the scene.
Kevin is facing me now. “What the fuck did you say?”
“I called you by your new name, Tiny Dick! Because everyone knows your steroids left you with a micro penis. I’d try kicking you in the dick, but the target is so small, I’d probably miss.”
I must have said the magic words, because now he seems to have forgotten about Tyson and he moves to grab me. I easily twist away. He lunges again and I dart again. Now he runs straight at me, but I run too and I’m quick and agile while he’s slow and stiff. I have to balance not letting him catch me with staying close enough to him that he doesn’t decide to give up on me and turn back to Tyson. It’s a delicate dance and not easy to do. I also attempt to keep his attention by continuing to antagonize him. I call him, “needle dick” and “teeny peeny” and he roars in anger as he continues his pursuit.
I’m having no problem keeping ahead of him, but there are too many dark shadows and I trip on an angled metal support beam that I don’t see in time. I can hear a laugh in the distance from our small audience as I land hard, face first on the jagged rocky surface. Kevin pounces and he’s on me. He’s all muscle and over 250 pounds. I’m probably 135 soaking wet. He has a knee on my upper back, one hand pressing on my lower back and the other hand mashes my face hard into the stony earth. He crushes every last bit of air out of my burning lungs and I can’t breathe. I’m trapped and helpless. All I had to do was stay ahead of that fucker and I failed. He’s gonna kill us both and it’s all my fault. How long does it take for a person to lose consciousness? Or to die?
Just then, Kevin is ripped off me. I inhale a lungful of sweet cool air and roll over. Tyson. He must have had just enough time to recover. He drags Kevin aside and gives him a chance to stand up. Kevin is the strongest guy in our class, but Tyson takes second place. Plus, Kevin is slow and stupid. He winds up for a big, powerful but deliberate punch that Tyson easily dodges. Kevin’s follow through carries him forward and Tyson takes advantage of that momentum by delivering an uppercut to the gut. Kevin collapses in a heap.
At this point, Ricky realizes that his friend might be in trouble and he starts running toward them. Tyson has his hands full with Kevin, who’s back up again, so I scramble to my feet and run to intercept Ricky. I slide into his path and trip him. He catapults forward and lands face-down on the gravely ground. I approach Ricky as he attempts to stand. He’s on his hands and knees when I give a powerful kick to his ribs. I hear a crack followed by a yelping gasp and he crashes back down. I squat, kneel on his back and speak into his ear, “If you try getting up again before Tyson and I walk out of here, the next kick will break your jaw.” I stand up straight and emphasize my dominance by stepping on the side of his head and pressing his face harder into the sharp rocks. I look back to the Tyson and Kevin show.
Kevin takes another swing and misses again. This time, Tyson connects with his face. Kevin’s head snaps back, but he stays on his feet. Tyson is done toying with him. He delivers a quick one-two to the solar plexus, followed by one more to the jaw and Kevin falls.
Stacey and Hannah are both screaming from their spot on the sidelines. Hannah still has her phone out and is wailing, “Assault! Help!”
I take my foot off of Ricky’s head and approach the shrieking girls. We’re a good distance from the bonfire and I know that the loud music is drowning out their cries. Even if anyone hears, it’ll take a few minutes before help or witnesses arrive. I walk up to Hannah Vaughn and snatch her phone right out her hand. She screams, “Hey! What are you doing?”
I look at her screen, press stop on the recording and delete the video. I say, “Once and for all, Hannah Vaughn, shut the fuck up.” I whip her phone to the ground and stomp on it three times. Satisfied that it’s beyond repair, I pick it back up and slip it into my pocket. I look at Stacey and speak what I believe are the first words ever passed between us. “Where’s yours?”
She holds out her empty hands for me to see. “It never left my bag.”
I say to the two of them, “I don’t think either of you saw anything here tonight. Now get the travesti istanbul fuck out of here.” They scurry away.
Tyson appears at my side and I take a quick look back to make sure that neither Kevin nor Ricky is moving. I say, “You know how in horror movies, you think the guy is dead but he comes back to life for one more attack?” They remain still and quiet.
Tyson says, “They’re not dead and this isn’t a movie.” He hooks his arm around my shoulders, “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know why I need to be constantly saved from that guy.”
“Hey, you saved me. I had the crap knocked out of me. I couldn’t move.” He squeezes his arm tight around me, “You are a fucking idiot!”
Not what I was expecting, “What?”
“You should have run. He wasn’t interested in you. You should have gotten the hell out of there and stayed safe. Look at you.” He angles my face to get a better look at the damaged left side. I wasn’t really aware of it before, but now it feels wet and sticky.
“And leave you there defenseless? You couldn’t breathe. Seriously? We’re in this together. You have to know that running away was never an option. Then I tripped and…” I trail off.
“You were brilliant and brave and stupid.” We stop walking. “If anything had happened to you…” He sounds genuinely terrified and tears run down his cheeks. “I don’t know what I’d…” He sniffs. “You should have run and saved yourself.”
“You couldn’t breathe! He would have killed you!”
“And he almost killed you.” He hugs me so hard; my feet leave the ground and I almost lose my air again. He lets go and we resume walking.
I say, “I guess we saved each other. If I could go back, the only thing I’d do differently is not trip on that fucking beam.”
Tyson almost chuckles, “We make a pretty good team.” He puts an arm around my shoulders.
We walk past the school gym and I take Hannah’s phone out of my packet. With all my might, I hurl it and it lands on the gym roof. Tyson looks at me and says, “You do realize that they attacked us, right? We were the victims here. Video doesn’t lie.”
“It could with creative editing. What if the recording started with me taunting Kevin and calling him names? He finally catches me and you swoop in and attack him. She could have manipulated the video to make it tell a completely different story. It’s not worth the risk. Neither of us is getting expelled over any of those assholes.”
Tyson looks at me, “I hate to break it to you Pearson, but there’s evidence of what happened tonight all over your face. And I mean that literally.”
~~
“Where are your first aid supplies?”
“I’ll get them.”
He steps in front of me. “Before you look in the mirror, just know that it’s not as bad as it looks. I’ll get you all cleaned up.”
That scares me. I go into the bathroom and flip on the light. I’m a terrifying sight; like a creature from a slasher film. Dried blood trails on my face. Even though I’m not feeling the pain, I begin to crack. I start shaking and shuddering. Tyson is nearby and swoops in. He carries me to the couch before dashing back into the bathroom and reemerging with the first aid kit.
I look up at him, “I did this to Ricky.” I point to my own fucked up face. “I didn’t have to. He was down. He was done. Did I need to mash his face harder into those rocks? Did I need to crack his ribs? Did I really need to threaten to break his jaw? I didn’t know that was in me. It’s like I got angry and hulked out. And you… Kevin could have killed you.”
“Your quick thinking saved both of us.”
“I thought I was an idiot.”
“A heroic idiot.” Tyson continues to clean and disinfect my wounds. “Ricky made his choice. He picked the wrong side. Don’t waste one more brain cell thinking about that asshole. It’s not like he was some innocent victim. He so deserved what he got.”
“When did you get the shiner and the new bruise on your jaw?” The old bruise from last week was finally almost gone.
“Kevin got a few elbows in while I was dragging him off of you.” He finishes dabbing my face and uses his phone’s camera to show me. “See, it’s not nearly as bad as it first looked. You’ll be scraped up for a while, but in the meantime, you look like a freaking badass with street cred.”
I almost laugh. It’s after 10:00 already and I worry that he’ll be leaving soon. I’m still shaking and rocked by what’s happened. “It’s just so unfair. Why do some people get to be who they are out in the open with no fear of consequence and others can’t? I mean ‘normal’ is subjective. My normal, your normal, our normal might be different from many others, but that doesn’t make it wrong.” He puts his phone away and I lean against him. “And what the fuck? Go ahead and don’t like it. You do you and let us do us. How are we hurting anyone? We’re not. What the fuck is with the anger and violence?” I shudder as I take in a broken breath.
He squeezes me tighter. “I’m not leaving you alone tonight. Someone needs to be here. Danny? Your brother? Or me? I mean, like, I’d stay on the couch or something. Nothing is going to… I mean I just want to be here. With you. If you want.”
It’s cute that he’s embarrassed. I look at him and he’s blushing. “Yes, that’s what I want.”