chapter thirteen
Knox
What the fuck was that?
Why did I fucking do that?
Yeah, sure, he was messing with me, but I’m the one who shoved him down on his knees and plunged my cock down his throat.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I shoot off a text.
Me: Are you free right now?
Katie: Yeah, why?
Me: Can you meet me at my house? Need to get drunk, don’t wanna do it alone.
Katie: Be there in twenty.
Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I pull out my pack of smokes, lighting one up and picking up my pace, heading in the direction of my house. If anyone will be able to help me figure this shit out, it’s Katie.
Now that the high of the mind-blowing orgasm is wearing off—and it was mind-blowing—the sheer panic is setting in. The shame. The disgust in myself, in the situation. How could I let him do that to me? How could I let my desire take over my better judgment?
God, I can hear my dad clear as day if he were to see me right now. I didn’t raise no faggot, boy.
The same shit he used to say to me when I was a kid before she would come over.
A monstrous shiver wracks my body. I shake that shit from my head, taking one last drag from my cigarette before putting it out.
Running up the stairs of the house and through the front door, I’m relieved that it looks like no one else is home yet. I leave the front door unlocked for Katie and head into the kitchen, going straight for the hard shit. There’s no other option. I have to get this crap off my chest, and in order to do that, I’ll need to be at least halfway blitzed.
Hovering over the cabinet, I decide against shot glasses. We can shoot straight from the bottle. Fuck it. As I head down the hall, I pull my phone out and open my bedroom door.
Me: Front door unlocked. In my room.
It doesn’t take more than a couple of minutes before my door opens and a sheepish Katie walks through. Taking in the bottle of vodka, sans shot glasses, she comes right over and sits next to me on the bed.
“What’s going on?” she asks, looking equal parts nervous and curious.
“Shots first, then we talk,” I mumble, unscrewing the cap and taking one long ass pull. The burn will give me the liquid courage to do this.
Passing the open bottle to her, she follows suit, only not taking quite as large of a drink as I did.
“Okay,” she says tentatively, wiping off her mouth with the back of her hand. “What’s this about? You’re freaking me out.”
Taking a deep inhale through my nose, I let the words exhale out of my mouth in a rush before I can pussy out. “Aston sucked my dick in the library today.”
“I’m sorry, what?!”
I can only glare at her, taking another swig from the bottle. “You fucking heard me, Katie.”
“No, I know… but how?”
Falling backward on the bed, I run my hands over my face, letting a pathetic groan escape my lips. “I don’t fucking know, dude, but it happened. It sure as fuck happened.”
After several long moments, probably contemplating her next words, she finally says, “Was it… good?”
Rolling my eyes and grumbling, I sit back up. Taking the bottle from her hands, I gulp another mouthful, leveling her with a stare. “Yes,” I respond reluctantly, barely above a whisper.
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Katie! I’m not fucking—”
“Gay,” she finishes for me. “I know, so you’ve said. But, I think after this, it’s pretty safe to say you aren’t one hundred percent straight either.”
“Fuck me,” I grumble, downing another hefty shot.
“Knox, forgive me if I’m not getting this… but I don’t really see why you’re freaking out this bad?”
She takes the bottle, tossing back another drink before continuing. “Your best friend is gay, so I don’t think it’s because you’re homophobic. You said it was good, so it can’t be about not enjoying it... So, then what?”
“Katie…”
“No, Knox. I’m sorry, but no. You asked me to come over here, so you clearly want to—or need to—talk this through. Let me help you.”
“My dad,” is all I manage to get out. This shit is something I’ve never divulged. Ever. Ninety percent of the time, I pretend it never even happened inside my own head.
Her face is screwed up in confusion. “Your dad, what?”
“Uh, well… I have some pretty shitty childhood memories that I tend to mentally block out, and he is homophobic.” I clasp my hands together on my lap to try and stop them from trembling, but it doesn’t help. My stomach churns as bile threatens to come up at the thought of even telling her this shit.
But I need to. I’m going to fucking crumble if I don’t get this off my chest.
Her features soften, and she reaches for my hand. When she speaks, her tone is soft, rich, and free of all judgement. “Knox,” she whispers. “You can’t change who you are or repress part of who you are as a person to please him, or anyone, for that matter.”
I laugh, but it’s dry, lacking all humor. “After having things instilled in your brain for years, it’s a little easier said than done, Katie.”
“Look, I know you said these are memories you don’t like to think about, but you know if you need to talk about them, I’m here, right?”
“Yes. I do, but I can’t talk about those… Not right now. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
“Okay, well, as long as you know,” she says quietly, taking the bottle and setting it on the nightstand.
“Come on. Let’s lay down.” She climbs farther up my bed and gets under the covers. I kick off my shoes and do the same. Never in my life have I had a friend like her.
Cuddling with girls, even after hooking up, is damn near unheard of for me. Yet, cuddling with her, even sleeping next to her, feels like the most natural thing in the world. She’s quite literally the sister I never had.
Getting ourselves situated, she rests her head on my chest, wrapping her arm around my stomach, while I wrap one arm around her and the other behind my head. The liquor coursing through my veins has my eyes feeling heavier than usual, and a nap actually sounds great right about now.
“So, what are you going to do about Aston?”
“Man, I don’t fucking know. Preferably nothing. Pretend it never happened.”
“Let me know how that works out for you, big guy,” she teases lightly, patting my chest.
I flick her on top of the head, laughing. “Fuck off.”
That’s the end of the conversation, and after a while, I hear her tiny snores. Allowing myself to finally close my eyes, I let sleep take me too.
******
The rest of the week drags on, but luckily our professor canceled our Wednesday sociology class—she was sick, or some shit—so, I haven’t had to see Aston since the library incident. Aside from Katie, I haven’t peeped a word about it to anyone. Obviously.
It’s Friday now, and I’m getting out of my last class of the day. Weston and Branson are meeting me at home, so we’re going to get in some practice before we get ready to leave. The frat is throwing a huge party tonight, and we’re all going. Letting loose with my bros sounds fucking perfect.
Aston is probably going, but no way in hell am I going to ask around to find out. I’ll pretend his ass doesn’t exist. Problem solved.
Walking home, I pull out a cigarette and my phone. Lighting up, I take a drag and relish in the feeling of my body physically relaxing as the smoke enters my lungs. I’ve been on edge all fucking week and want nothing more than to get my mind off everything and let go.
Powering on my phone, I have a few text messages waiting for me.
Katie: Hey, can I meet you at your place tonight and we’ll go together?
Katie: I don’t want to go alone.
Katie: Also, would like to pregame with you guys.
Katie: You suck at texting. K, byeeeee.
Laughing at her last message, I thumb out a response to her.
Me: Damn, psycho.
Me: You know I have class on Fridays, you impatient ass.
Katie: So, is that a yes? :)
Me: I guess I’ll allow it.
Katie: Oh, fuck off.
Me: ;)
Finishing the rest of my smoke and putting in my AirPods, I get lost in the music and nicotine for the rest of the walk. OK Not to Feel OK by Tre Bolton starts playing. It hits home every time, and it’s one of my current favorites.
Once I head inside, I’m greeted with Weston and Branson already setting up their equipment in the living room. When we all play together, we move the furniture out of the way and play in here. It’s the only space in the house that would really accommodate all of us and our instruments. Branson’s drums stay in the living room because it’s kind of illogical to move all of that continuously.
“’Sup, asshats,” I say, throwing up a peace sign.
Getting a duo of grunts back, I head back to my room and grab my guitar before walking back out.
We start with our favorite song to play together, Nutshell by Alice in Chains. Even though I’ve been playing with them for years, I’m still always amazed at how incredible they sound, how we sound together.
Branson is one of the most effortlessly talented drummers I’ve had the pleasure of hearing in person. He picked it up so easily, a true natural.
Weston has the perfect voice for the music we like to play. His deep, rugged, and raspy voice sounds phenomenal through a microphone, his range of sound unmatched.
We fluently move right onto the next song, Black Hole Sun by Soundgarden. Another favorite among us. As we start getting into it, Luca comes home. His eyes light up, quickly ridding himself of his shoes and bag, coming to sit down on the couch.
He enjoys watching us all play, sure, but his eyes and focus are definitely on Branson for the most part. The adoration and sheer pride in his eyes when he watches him play is sickening, but also low key cute. It’s a miracle none of us picked up on their little relationship before they told us, especially if he looked at him like this all the time.
Finishing up with another few songs, we put our equipment away and move the furniture back. Migrating into the kitchen, we all crack open some beers while Weston starts making nachos for us.
I hear the front door open, and as I peek around the corner, I see Katie shutting it behind her.
“Hey, hey, K-Dawg!”
Rolling her eyes at me, because she thinks the nickname is ridiculous, she says, “Hey K-Dawg to you too, idiot.”
She joins us in the kitchen, cracking open a cold beer and taking a long swig. Her ability to be “one of the guys” is easily my favorite quality of hers. She gets along so well with everyone, and she has no trouble shooting the shit right along with us.
Once the food is done, we grab more beer and pile into the living room, eating our body weight in nachos.