Guyliner Page 19

  Connor straightened, snapping to attention like a soldier in boot camp. “Not tonight, Roy,” he said, not bothering to turn around.

  “Ah, c’mon, man. You’re not fooling anyone with your beard here. That’s the word, right, Clint?”

  Clint leaned against a countertop and smiled at Allyson. “That’s the word. You know the term?”

  Allyson stood next to Connor and glared at the two assholes.

  “A beard is a chick fags use to fool people into thinking they’re not fags.”

  “Knock it off.” Connor growled the words.

  “You saw the pictures, didn’t you?” Clint’s attention never left Allyson. There was something in his grin, something like gleeful anticipation. And that something would likely make Connor’s life even more miserable.

  “Fess up.” Roy moved closer, trying to loom over Connor.

  Disgusting. The two of them were some kind of demented tag team. It was like they’d rehearsed this. Connor screwed up his face in disgust.

  “That was you and Guyliner in that picture, wasn’t it?” Roy walked two fingers across the counter toward Connor.

  “Yeah. My freak cousin April went to some homo club in Chicago a couple of weeks ago and posted some pictures online. As soon as I saw it, I knew it was you guys. Just think: telling the truth is good for the soul. Come clean.” Clint smirked.

  Allyson stepped closer, edging slightly between Connor and Clint.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Connor tried to draw Allyson back.

  “You’d rather get all up close and personal with Guyliner rather than tapping that.” Roy jutted his chin toward Allyson, licking his lips.

  “Don’t talk about Allyson that way. Haven’t we had this conversation before?” Connor kept his voice cool, though he gripped the handles of the crutches so hard, the foam-covered aluminum creaked.

  “You sound pretty tough, but we both know that you won’t do crap.” He looked at Allyson. “You can’t tell me you don’t wonder about him. There’s no way he’s as perfect as he wants people to believe,” Roy shot back.

  “Roy, what I believe is that you’re an ass. I believe a lot of things are none of your business. Where do you get off treating people the way you do? Now, why don’t you take your boyfriend and get out of here so my boyfriend and I can enjoy this party.”

  Allyson was as irate as an angry mama bear protecting her cub. Connor would have enjoyed the image if it didn’t make him the cub.

  Roy’s face heated, and he took a step toward Allyson. Connor shifted his grip on one of the crutches and settled his weight more securely on his good leg. If Roy tried anything, Connor would be ready to act.

  “Jesus, Roy, you can’t hit a girl.” Clint placed a restraining hand on Roy’s arm. Connor would have been impressed by the old-fashioned idea coming from Clint—until he added, “Not here with all these people around.”

  Not so very chivalrous, after all. Connor held his breath as they glared at Connor and Allyson before spinning away and heading out of the kitchen.

  “Now,” Allyson said, returning her attention to Connor, “let’s grab a drink and find you somewhere to sit down. You shouldn’t be on your feet all night.”

  “I’m fine.” Connor bit off the words as though they were beef jerky.

  “Don’t be stubborn. You need to stay off your leg as much as possible.”

  “I’m not a baby, damn it.” At the rate this evening was going, Allyson might as well throw a diaper on him and call him sweetums. Connor grabbed a can of beer from an ice-filled cooler on the floor. Allyson, taking her duties as designated driver seriously, poured herself a glass of Coke from a two-liter bottle on the counter.

  She scanned the living and dining rooms for a place for Connor to sit. “I bet if we ask, one of the guys on the couch will let you sit there.”

  “No. We’ll find a place or we won’t. I’m not making someone move so I can park my banged-up ass on the couch.”

  She harrumphed—not something he’d ever heard from her before—and kept looking. Finally she led him to an old window seat at the back of the dining room, next to a group of guys playing beer pong, but he was able to sit. He wouldn’t admit it to Allyson, not even under threat of torture, but the pain in his knee did ease a bit as he sat down. He tucked the crutches against a wall. The damn things were a hazard.

  This was so humiliating, parking it on the sidelines while everyone else got to move around freely. He popped the top on his beer and took a cautious sip. He cringed at the unfamiliar taste. How did people drink this stuff?

  Next to him, Allyson sat straight-backed and proper on the edge of the seat. She looked like she should be attending an afternoon tea party instead of a kegger.

  “If you aren’t having fun, why are we here?” Connor glared at her.

  “Are you kidding me? You needed to get out, be social. It’s good for you.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  Her eyes widened in hurt. “Do you really think that’s why I’m here? You don’t think I’m happy to have the chance to spend time with you?”

  He took another drink of the beer, and then another. “You know,” he told her, “beer isn’t as bad as I first thought. I think it’s growing on me.”

  “Avoidance isn’t like you.”

  “Since I can’t play ball anymore, I figure it’s time to develop a new skill.”

  “Connor, you’re acting like a dick.”

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Lately tension seemed to center right between his eyes. He downed the rest of his beer and stood up. “I’m getting another one of these and then I’ll be back. We’re here to be social and have fun. I’ll try and keep my grumpiness to a minimum.”

  She smiled at him. “Okay. But—please don’t be upset—let me get you that beer.”

  He wanted to object, but his leg throbbed like a mother. “Okay, thanks.” She patted his arm on her way to the kitchen. It made him feel like an obedient dog.

  She came back with the beer and settled in next to him. She smelled good, floral and sweet, but it didn’t cause nearly the same reaction as Graham’s scent. He ground his teeth, cursing himself. He was doing it again, and it had to stop. Comparing Allyson and Graham was a waste of energy. He opened the beer and downed half the contents in one swallow. His stomach churned, but when it settled, he chugged the rest of the can.

  Allyson watched him with disapproval. “I didn’t know you drank beer.”

  “I don’t.” He paused to cover a belch. “But I think I’m going to start. People seem to be enjoying it.” He nodded at partiers standing around, laughing and dancing, all with plastic cups or aluminum cans in their hands. “I’ve always wondered what the draw was.”

  “I take it you’re going to try and find out tonight?”

  “Yep.” He shook his newly empty can. “I wonder how many of these I need to drink to forget about the shitfest my life is turning into?”

  Allyson crossed her arms over her chest. “I think you’ve probably had enough. I thought you were too smart to try and escape your problems with something like alcohol.”

  “I told you, I think avoidance is my new hobby.” He focused on her pale face and the big green eyes staring at him so seriously. “You know,” he said, leaning close, “you really are pretty.”

  Those pretty eyes widened. “What—” she was cut off when his mouth covered hers. I can do this. He could get past this stupid infatuation with Graham and put his life back on track. He could start with this.

  Allyson stiffened when he pulled her close. He didn’t want to think about how desperate he was to feel normal, or how dark his thoughts had turned. This was supposed to be right; this was expected. “We should have sex.”

  She jerked back. “What? What did you say?”

  “We should have sex. We’ve been dating for, like, six months. I like you, you like me. People assume we’re already doing it.” He tried to kiss her again and his head swam
. The effects of the beer seemed to be kicking in.

  She held up a hand. “You decide to get drunk and then you decide we should have sex? A few weeks ago kissing me sent you into a panic that had you tripping over your own feet in your hurry to get away.”

  He tightened his arms around her, forcing her close. “Come on, Allyson. You don’t have to think it to death. Let’s just do it, get it over with.”

  “Get it over with? We’re talking about sex, not a root canal.”

  “You know what I mean. I…. Maybe if we do it, people will forget about that stupid picture.”

  “Oh, Connor.” She sighed, her body relaxing against him. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. What you do—what we do—is nobody else’s business.”

  “I agree. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to sleep with you. I bet Matt could find us an unoccupied room and we can… you know.” It may have tasted like shit, but the beer definitely made him so much more relaxed around Allyson. He tried to smile seductively. Going by Allyson’s reaction, he failed. Miserably. She looked skeptical. Not the reaction he was aiming for. How did guys do that? He maneuvered her around until her legs were draped over his good one. He slid his hands along her sides and up her ribs. Steeling his nerves, he slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt.

  She slapped his hand. “Connor, knock it off!”

  “Come on, Allyson, don’t be that way.” He released her soft curves only to shift his grip to her legs when she wriggled away.

  She was pale and shaking, standing in front of him. “What’s the matter with you?”

  There were too many possible answers to that question, none of which he wanted to share. Instead, he got pissed. “Fine. Be that way. Why don’t you leave? If you’re not here to have a good time, you might as well get out. I’m sure I can find someone else to play with.”

  Allyson checked the surrounding area before whispering, “You’re being an ass.”

  “You’re being a prude.”

  She gasped. “You want me to go? Fine, I’ll go. Find your own way home.” She spun around, her glossy red hair swinging like a cape behind her, her strides jerky with indignation.

  Connor grabbed his crutches and surged up as Allyson pushed her way through the crowd. He didn’t need Allyson to have a good time at the party. He clenched his jaw and limped to the kitchen, unsteady on the crutches. He preferred the anger and shame to the bleakness that threatened to overwhelm him. Most of the people he passed took one look at his angry face and let him by without a word. In the kitchen he found a mostly full bottle of coconut rum. He held it awkwardly between two fingers and hobbled away with it.

  It took a few minutes, but he found an unoccupied room on the other side of the big farm house. By the looks of it, it served as a small office with a couple of shelves, an ancient computer, and a cushy chair with truly horrible gold and green paisley upholstery. The lights were off, and when he shut the door the room darkened immediately. Nearly blind, he made his way forward until the tip of one of his crutches hit the chair, and then he settled into the flat cushions.

  Connor rested his head against the back of the chair. The room smelled a bit like cigars. It was a faint odor, and not unpleasant. Away from the heart of the party and with the door closed, the music was a muted thrum. He opened the bottle of rum and threw the cap at the door. He took a tentative swallow, testing the flavor. It was sweet, and he imagined coconut-flavored mouthwash would taste the same.

  He didn’t know how long he sat there, rum burning its way down to his stomach. By the time he’d finished about a third of the bottle’s contents, his head was fuzzy and the room tilted around him. It was kind of like the night in Chicago, but darker and meaner somehow. Thinking of Chicago made him think about Graham. He squeezed his eyes shut, pushing back the regret.

  He dug out his phone to call Marc for a ride. His mind was mush, but he remembered Marc was at some family thing in Indianapolis that weekend. When he exited his contacts, his thumb brushed his photos icon. The first image he saw was a picture he had snapped of Graham at Stripes. A red light highlighted his spiky, tousled hair and a sly smile played at his mouth. Beads of sweat trickled down his temples. His head was cocked to the side, and his eyes were half-closed. Something about that image, and the night they had spent together, caused something to crack in his chest. Connor ran his thumb across the screen, tracing the quirked lips and angled brows.

  Before he could think better of it, though thinking wasn’t the easiest thing for him at the moment, he found Graham’s name in his phone’s contact list and pressed the green Call button.

  “Connor?” Graham’s voice was distant, tinny. Then he realized that he still held the phone in front of him rather than to his ear.

  “Hey, Graham.”

  “You sound funny. Are you okay?”

  Connor looked around the dark room. “You know, I don’t think so.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothin’.” The word came out slurred. He tried again. “Nothing. ’S important to ’nunciate.”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Yep.”

  “Connor, where’s Allyson?”

  “She left a while ago.”

  “She left you alone?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why?”

  “’Cause I wanted to have sex with her.”

  “What?”

  “Yep, I told her we should have sex. She wasn’t very interested, though. Got mad and left me here when I said I’d find someone who would.”

  “Jesus, Connor.” Graham sounded appalled.

  “Didn’t really want her, though. Not like that.”

  “Then why did you tell her you wanted to have sex?”

  “’Cause I’m s’posed to want to have sex. I’m seventeen. I’m s’posed to want to have sex with girls all the time. But I don’t.” Connor took a swig of the rum. He couldn’t even taste it anymore.

  “Are you still drinking?”

  “Yep. Good stuff. Tastes like coconut mouthwash.”

  “Coconut mouthwash? Sounds disgusting.”

  “It’s really coconut rum. I bet I smell like suntan lotion.”

  “I don’t think you should drink any more. Are you at Matt Macy’s party? I’ll come get you.”

  “You will?” Connor beamed at his phone. “Hey, you should come and drink some coconut rum with me. You could smell like suntan lotion too.”

  “Connor, you need to keep the phone by your mouth. I can’t understand you.”

  “Whoops!” He leaned back in the chair and felt the earth tilt on its axis. When the office stopped spinning, he tried again, holding the phone by his mouth. “I didn’t want to have sex with Allyson, you know. I think about having sex with you, though. Hey, have you had sex before? If you come over, can we have sex?”

  Chapter 29

  GRAHAM STUMBLED with his jeans halfway to his knees and dropped the phone. No way had Connor said that. No. Way. He pulled up his pants with one hand even as he bent forward to pick up the wayward phone. “Connor? Connor, are you there?”

  Silence.

  Graham looked down at his phone. It was almost one in the morning, and he didn’t know where the Macy farm was. Should he call someone? “Connor, if you can hear me, I’m coming to get you. Stay there.” He disconnected the call and opened a web browser on his iPhone. A quick search showed him that there was only one Macy listing in the Green Valley area and it was outside of town, along a county highway. It sounded like the perfect place to throw a party.

  The drive took about ten minutes, but it felt like eons, made worse by his constant watch for cops. Green Valley had a strictly enforced curfew.

  The party was still going strong when he reached the farm. Several people gathered around a fire barrel in front of the house and dozens more were milling about inside the decades-old house. He stopped the first person he recognized when he went into the house. “Have you seen Connor?”

  The bleary-eyed teenage
r blinked owlishly at him.

  “Connor Fitzpatrick?”

  “Oh, him. He was here earlier. I haven’t seen him in a while, though.”

  “Looking for Connor?” Matt Macy appeared at his side, clear-eyed and sober. “He got into some kind of fight with Allyson. He’s been holed up in my dad’s office ever since.”

  “Where’s that?”

  Graham headed in the direction of Matt’s pointing finger to a closed door. When he opened the door, the light that spilled into the office revealed Connor slumped sideways in an ugly chair with a bottle cradled in his lap. Graham shut the door and flicked on a desk lamp. The dim light barely made a difference to the darkness.

  He took the bottle of liquor out of Connor’s lax grip. A quick sniff of the contents made him cringe. Coconut-flavored mouthwash. He couldn’t find the bottle’s cap, so he set the rum on the desk. Now that he was here, he could tell that Connor had simply passed out. Connor hadn’t struck him as a big partier, so his tolerance for alcohol probably wasn’t that high. He considered waking Connor up so he could take him home, but he hesitated. Instead, he sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the ugly chair and looked at Connor. His bad leg stretched out in front of him and his left hand lay protectively over the edge of the brace. His crutches lay haphazardly on the floor next to him.

  Graham rested his hand on Connor’s good knee. “What are you doing to yourself?” he asked the sleeping Connor.

  Connor’s lids fluttered and he blinked slowly. “Graham?” Graham turned his face into Connor’s palm when he reached down to cup his cheek. “You’re not wearing your eyeliner.”

  Graham smiled. “I was already in bed when you called.”

  “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Connor yawned and snuggled deeper into the chair.

  “I’m glad you did. You can call me whenever you need to. I don’t mind, I swear.”

  After a minute of silence, Graham thought Connor had fallen back asleep. Then Connor muttered something unintelligible.

  “What’s that?”

  “I like the dark. It makes me feel… anonymous.” His voice was still slurred, so when Connor started to slide off the chair, Graham leaned forward and tried to keep him sitting.