Hating Cain Read online

  “No,” I said firmly. “I can handle him myself. Thanks, though.”

  He gave me a wary side-eyed glance. Maybe he was just still feeling protective over an old friend about events that happened a decade ago. He was entitled to his own feelings, but I didn’t want him to hurt Cain over it.

  As if reading my mind, Nash muttered, “But he hurt you. Doesn’t that piss you off?”

  I snorted humorlessly. “All the time.”

  “So why not do something about it? Why show up on his arm to this party?”

  I bristled at Nash’s accusatory tone. “I’m not on his arm. He just invited me, and I needed a distraction, so I said yes.”

  “Don’t you think it’s weird that he invited you to a party for women only? And he’s the only other guy here?”

  “You’re here,” I argued.

  “I’m here for work.”

  I didn’t know that. “Yeah, but–”

  “But what? Why are you defending him?” he demanded. “Johnny, he’s just setting you up to knock you down again.”

  My mind stormed with bad memories. The pain of old scars flared like the wounds had just been inflicted. But Nash’s accusations bothered me.

  “Why does our reunion have to be about him?” I said with a cold laugh. “I haven’t seen you in ages, man. Can we talk about something else? Why are you here, anyway?” I asked it as casually as possible, innocently trying to change the subject, but I was afraid it sounded like a bad insinuation.

  Nash sighed, blowing out a tuft of dark blond hair from his eye. I noticed how different his shade of blond was compared to Cain, then mentally drew back from the thought. “Cherry’s my aunt. She hired my business to cater the party. Anyway, I was just leaving when I saw you here.” He paused. “It’s good to see you back.”

  “We should hang out sometime,” I said thinly. I didn’t know if I really wanted to, or if I was just being polite by repeating the invitation.

  Still, Nash nodded. He hadn’t explicitly turned me down this time.

  It wasn’t exactly the reunion I imagined with my closest childhood friend. As Nash turned to go, I stood there feeling cold and unsatisfied, like I’d bit into something expecting it to be hot but instead it was lukewarm.

  Someone appeared in the front door, holding something in both hands. When he saw us, Cain froze. His blue eyes widened. In the shadowy hall, with anxiety and dread lurking behind his gaze, he looked smaller than usual.

  Nash’s frame went taut. I couldn’t see his face, but judging by his stiff muscles, he wasn’t happy to see Cain.

  The feeling was mutual. Cain’s expression darkened, his lips a thin line and his grip so tight on the champagne bottles I was afraid they’d shatter.

  16

  Cain

  Nash was the last person I expected to see here, and his presence violently threw me off. For a moment I felt like a stupid, skinny sophomore student again, trembling in front of the older guy on the football team.

  It was Johnny’s eyes that jerked me back to reality. I brought the bottles of champagne up to my chest, like weapons.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded from Nash.

  “None of your business,” Nash replied. “Move.”

  He started towards me and I leapt out of the way before he shouldered past. When I heard a car rev its engine and speed down the driveway, I assumed it was Nash.

  Bewildered, I turned back to Johnny, hoping to see a friendly face after running into my nemesis. But where I expected to see the kind expression I’d grown used to over the past few days, instead I found him and wary.

  My stomach dropped. Had Nash said something to Johnny while I was gone?

  “Sorry for running off,” I said quickly. “I completely forgot these at home. I’m gonna go give them to Cherry.”

  Johnny just grunted in reply, not helping my anxiety at all.

  “Why don’t you come with me? Why are you here in the hall, anyway?” I asked.

  Johnny’s gaze hardened. “Why did you lie to me, Cain?”

  “What?”

  “About this party,” he said, his words clipped.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said honestly.

  He gritted his teeth. His fists were clenched at his side, and when he spoke, his words were like a slap to the face. “Cherry called us a couple of gays.” He strode closer, towering over me. “Why would she say that?”

  A knot tightened in my gut. “She didn’t mean it in a bad way, Johnny, she was just–”

  “I don’t care what kind of way she meant it in!” he snapped. “Why are people calling me that?”

  I stared at him, suddenly ashamed at the trouble I’d caused.

  And disappointed for other reasons.

  “Oh. No, she wasn’t talking about you,” I said softly. “She meant me. She doesn’t think you’re gay. In fact, I think she was even checking you out earlier.”

  His eyes were dark shards of obsidian threatening to cut me. A beat passed.

  “What?” he finally asked.

  I smirked, even though the situation wasn’t that funny. “I’m gay, Johnny, and she knows. That’s why Cherry said that. She wasn’t talking about you. The plural thing was probably just a slip of the tongue.”

  Johnny stared at me in confusion like I’d asked him an impossible math problem.

  I stepped away from his looming shadow. “I’m gonna go give these to Cherry now. I don’t think she’ll take it personally if you want to leave, seeing as you’re straight and all.” I turned away from him. “Thanks for being my plus one anyways.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Johnny blurted out.

  The pure confusion in his voice made me turn back.

  “What are you talking about?” I said with a laugh. “What's your problem?”

  “You’re gay?”

  He said it so loudly I flinched. “Yes?”

  He stared at me slack-jawed, and I found myself becoming defensive. I wasn’t in the mood for a straight guy to crow about my sexuality in public, childhood crush and pseudo-friend or not.

  My stomach twisted further into knots when I realized Johnny suddenly looked scared. My mind put two and two together–Johnny had just been speaking to Nash, his old friend from school, and stepbrother to the homophobe who bullied me years ago.

  Why was I even surprised that Johnny had a negative reaction to learning my sexuality?

  But something made me hesitate. There was a flicker in Johnny’s eyes of something I couldn’t quite discern. The tension in his stiff shoulders faded and he visibly relaxed. His dark eyes watched me with renewed interest, blinking slowly every few beats–like he was seeing me for the first time.

  “Why are you staring at me?” I asked quietly.

  “When did you know?”

  I balked at the intrusive question. “Why do you care?”

  “Please,” he said softly, nearly begging.

  Something about the vulnerable way he looked right now compelled me to reply honestly.

  “In high school,” I replied.

  “Before or after I left?”

  “Before, but why do you give a shit?” I asked, getting defensive. “It’s none of your business. Now I’m serious, I need to give these to Cherry.”

  Johnny seemed fearful again. I didn't know what kind of weird revelation he was having, or why it involved me, but it was starting to freak me out. I headed to the yard to finally give Cherry the bottles, along with a heartfelt apology about causing a scene the other day. I found her standing next to Kaitlyn by the booze.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Cherry said after I said my piece. She gently put a hand on my arm. “Thanks for coming. Tell Johnny I said so, too.”

  Kaitlyn giggled. “You know, you boys remind me of Rowan and Alec. You and Johnny make a cute couple.”

  I blushed. “Oh, we’re not–”

  She winked. “I know, I know. Just teasing.”

  That’s what she said—ye
t somehow, I got the feeling she wasn’t entirely kidding.

  “He’s straight,” I said firmly on his behalf, wanting to clear that up. I’d known that Johnny wasn’t gay, and I was an idiot for ever hoping he wasn’t–and if I wasn’t sure before, his minor meltdown in the hallway just now proved it.

  No longer in the mood for a party, I said a quick goodbye to Cherry and Kaitlyn, and left.

  I didn’t see Johnny in the hall on my way out.

  The evening air was cool on my skin as I walked home. A bitter part of me thought I could’ve been home already if I’d taken the car like I originally intended, but Johnny had to go and convince me to walk.

  Stupid…

  It was all very stupid of me. Inviting Johnny to the party, trying to get closer to him in the first place, revealing my not-secret sexuality to him. All of it was a mistake. I should’ve never greeted him when he moved back and set myself on this path of disappointment.

  Who was I kidding when I entertained the slightest hope that Johnny wasn’t straight? And even if he wasn’t, why did I think that I had a chance with him?

  I kicked a pebble into the street as I turned to my driveway, then I remembered with a curse that my car was parked at Johnny’s.

  And he still had the keys.

  “Fuck me,” I mumbled.

  A light shone inside the house, so I assumed he was home already. I bit down on my pride and rapped my knuckles on the door, wanting to get my keys and leave as quickly as possible.

  Johnny opened the door. He was lit dimly from behind, the light coming from the kitchen. His eyes were half-lidded and glinted in the dark as he gazed intensely down at me. Something about his presence seemed charged, like electric currents danced around him.

  I fidgeted, wanting to leave ASAP. “You have my keys.”

  He glanced to the side, presumably where the keys were but made no move to return them to me.

  “Johnny,” I said firmly.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other anymore,” he said.

  I stared at him. Anxiety and irritation mixed in my stomach in a noxious cocktail.

  Then he spoke again, his dark eyes boring into me. “But I want to.”

  I didn’t know what he was saying. Was he drunk?

  “You’re freaking me out,” I said.

  Sympathy flashed across his face. “Sorry. I’m not trying to, I–” He shook his head, then grabbed the keys and tossed them to me without meeting my gaze. “Nevermind. Just go.”

  My legs hesitated. Half of me wanted to turn and get in the car, but the other half was rooted firmly in place.

  “What happened tonight?” I asked instead of leaving. Then, with a prickle of fear, “Did Nash say something weird to you?”

  Johnny shook his head, but conflict raged behind his eyes, and I couldn’t tell if he was winning or losing whatever war he was fighting in his mind.

  He took a step forward. He stood so close I felt the warmth of his body radiating from him. I couldn’t chalk up his odd behaviour to drinking because there was barely any tang of alcohol on his breath. My heartbeat picked up, tripped over itself. Fluttered like a caged, panicked bird.

  For a moment I was a teenager again, staring up at the hero who’d saved me. My childhood crush flooded back. Every part of me yearned to lean up and press my mouth against his.

  But the idea terrified me.

  It wasn’t real. My crush was based on a fantasy.

  Or at least, that’s what I thought until I noticed the way Johnny was staring at me.

  Suddenly I didn’t want to run away anymore. My body wanted to be closer to his, to feel his warmth against me, his chest against mine.

  Johnny reached out and put his hand on my shoulder, large and firm. The last time he laid a hand on me was to slam me up against a wall, but there was no violence in his touch this time.

  The moment felt like an eternity, like time had stopped just for the two of us. I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t think Johnny knew, either. We were both perched on the edge of a yawning chasm neither of us knew how to cross.

  As Johnny continued to hold my shoulder and blink slowly at me, I was struck by a realization.

  Straight guys don’t act like this.

  The notion dawned on me. If Johnny wanted to push me away, he could have. If he wanted to get away from the gay man in front of him, he would have. But he didn’t. He held me closer.

  Still, I wasn’t going to do it. I wouldn’t make this choice for him. I refused to be the gay man who forced his way onto his apparently confused friend.

  So I was deeply, intensely relieved when Johnny leaned in to kiss me.

  It was brief. In the span of a blink, Johnny brushed his lips softly against mine, barely putting any pressure behind it. The kiss was timid and shy, like one shared between virginal teenagers instead of two adult men–but when Johnny pulled away, his cheeks were flushed deeper than I’d ever seen.

  And my heart ached.

  “Sorry,” Johnny said, his voice hoarse. He shook his head and backed up. “Fuck, that was stupid of me.”

  “No,” I said quickly, but my own voice came out barely louder than a whisper, and I wasn’t sure if he heard me.

  It was too late. Johnny shot me a panicked look. His face paled and he shut the door without letting me get another word in. The last thing I saw before the door slammed in my face was the utter terror in Johnny’s wide, dark eyes.

  I stood there on his front steps completely dumbfounded. My lips still tingled from where he kissed me, and I raised a finger to touch, as if making sure it was real.

  It was.

  17

  Johnny

  Fuck.

  I wished I’d drunk more at the party. At least that way I might’ve had an excuse for my behavior. But a couple sips of booze weren’t enough to explain what the fuck I’d just done.

  My heart threatened to tear out of my ribs.

  A cold sweat broke out over my skin, and I wiped my clammy palms over my pants. I rushed upstairs to tear out of these clothes.

  Clothes that Cain had picked out for me.

  In the bedroom, I gasped as I stripped down to my underwear and tossed the clothes haphazardly across the back of a chair like they were on fire. It was only when I stood only in my briefs that I realized I was rock fucking hard.

  My arousal was tinged with fear, but apparently not enough to turn my dick limp. It flagged almost painfully against the fabric, desperate to be freed. I bit my lip hard. I’d die of shame if I holed up in my room and beat off like a frantic teenager after the world’s smallest fucking kiss.

  I sat on the edge of the bed, trying to ignore my stubborn boner. My mind buzzed with countless questions and no answers. Things I’d thought my whole life to be truths were shattered.

  Cain was gay.

  Not only that, but he’d known since high school. Since before I left this hellhole.

  My first reaction was of anger. I wanted to accuse him of lying, of hiding secrets and skulking behind my back like he always had.

  But that wasn’t the Cain I’d grown to know after moving back here.

  The Cain I knew offered help to me when no one else did. He gave me rides, paid for groceries and fancy clothes, stood up for me when I was an outcast. Little things on their own that added up. He gave and gave and expected nothing in return–except maybe my friendship.

  The Cain I knew was kind.

  And that didn’t mesh with the image I’d had of him in my mind for a whole decade.

  Ten years ago, a rumor destroyed my life.

  I wished I didn’t remember the day so clearly, but every detail was etched into my memory like a brand on my brain. I’d been waiting for Nash to finish football practice so we could head out for burgers like we did every Friday afternoon.

  Maybe I should’ve known something was off when I waved to Nash ten minutes before the end of practice and he didn’t smile back.

  At the time, I didn’
t think anything of it. The coach stressed him out sometimes, pushing him too hard. It was one of the reasons I didn’t care to join the team. Being yelled at by an older man reminded me too much of my home life and I didn’t need it replicated at school.

  So I waited, leaning against the bleachers and playing a game on my phone. I thought it was odd that the rest of the team kept glaring at me. Annoyed but not unnerved yet, I pocketed my phone and walked lazily off the field back towards the main campus.

  I should have known something was wrong when I began to feel like a zoo animal. A dangerous one. Some people glanced at me from the corners of their eyes while others full-on stared. I felt dozens of eyes pinpricking the back of my skull. I quickly grew uneasy, but I didn’t know what to do about it. I looked over myself to double check I didn’t have a spill on my shirt or something.

  It wasn’t that. The glances and murmuring were too insidious for that.

  My skin began to crawl. For reasons I didn’t know, it seemed like the world had turned against me, like I was the single thing that was out of place. Like I didn’t belong.

  It was exactly the way I felt at home, except this was at school–the only place I felt some semblance of normalcy.

  And now that was fading, too.

  I ducked into a stairwell to get out of sight. The door slammed shut behind me, and the silence was heavy and still.

  But I wasn’t in there alone.

  Sitting at the top of the flight of stairs with his head in his hands was Cain. There was a pen and loose piece of paper beside him. When he saw me, his eyes widened. He picked up the paper and quickly crumpled it into a ball. His one leg was bouncing impatiently. I noticed a few small bruises on his arms, just big enough to be visible. But with both of us being rowdy teenaged boys, I didn’t think anything of it.

  “Johnny,” he said in surprise.

  I leaned back against the door and sighed. “Hey.”