Chapter 11

Disclaimer: This chapter contains a hint of sexual assault and homophobia. Reader’s discretion is advised.

OLIVER

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“Lionel,” I breathed.

A part of me cursed inwardly. I’d been so worried about Jude that I forgot Lionel existed. I should have been on the lookout for him too.

Shit. Damn it. I hate my life.

The guy in question was exploring my body with his eyes, his expression smug. I didn’t like it. It reminded me of those nature documentaries I used to watch with my Mom where a predator cornered its prey, relishing in its fear.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he said.

“Really?” I said with gritted teeth, “Says the guy who ghosted me. I haven’t heard from you in weeks.”

“I was busy, Ollie,” he said.

“Busy with your next fling?”

“I had tons of work. You know exams are in two weeks. My grades are crying.”

I folded my arms. “Really? That’s your excuse? I have exams too.”

“Well you’re a freshman,” he smirked though a part of me wondered what about that statement was worth smirking for. As if being a freshman made college life easier.

I didn’t say anything which led to a long, awkward gap of silence. I was hoping he’d take the hint and realise I was not in the mood for conversing with him.

But of course…he didn’t.

Are you surprised?

“I’m late for a class,” I said.

“You’re lying,” He said, inching closer to me. I could smell sweat and dirty socks from him. He must have finished soccer practice recently and didn’t have the common decency to shower after. Gross. “It’s Monday. You don’t have a class after lunch.”

Did he have a copy of my schedule? I definitely didn’t give him that piece of information.

And was he stalking me? Now I’m wondering whether he had followed me into the bathroom. My heart kickstarted into overdrive. My fingers turned clammy.

“I have to go,” I said, in the process of turning to leave when he grabbed my arm, a little too strong of a grip for my liking, stopping me in my tracks.

“Wait,” he muttered. His voice had lowered, sending chills down my legs. “We’re alone. Just the two of us.”

I forced myself to breathe normally though my neck was pulsing with the force of a thousand drums. “And?”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Ollie. Don’t you want this?.”

A rush of insurmountable rage rushed through me. “Fine,” I whispered, “I want this. But let’s do it outside… where everyone can see us.”

His grip on my arm loosened a little and the lust in his eyes vanished. “Maybe in a bush or in my car or-“

“See that’s your problem,” I stated, “You don’t want to be seen. You don’t want to associate yourself with me publicly. Proudly. I don’t want that.”

“But my friends…you don’t understand. They’d…” he searched for more words but they seem to elude him.

“That’s your problem,” I replied, putting as much acid into the statement as I could.

I tried to shake his grip off but suddenly with renewed vigour, he tightened it and pushed me until my back was pressed against the sink.

“What the hell?” I said, trying to control my voice but my words were shaking.

He leaned closer, until our bodies were touching. His face was inches from mine. His breath was a slap to my face; a combination of stale alcohol and cigar.

I didn’t feel his hand until it was on my face, making up and down motions on my cheek.

“Lionel,” I tried shaking off his grip again but it was like shrugging a titanium coat off me. “Lionel, stop.”

His other hand grazed my free arm, caressing my back. “Don’t pretend you don’t want this. You want this just as much as I do.”

He sniffed my neck and wave of disgust rolled in my stomach. What in the Jeffrey Dahmer?

I reared my arms and summoned all my strength, pushing him back. He didn’t budge an inch.

I should have gone to the gym when Rick suggested it.

The arm that was caressing my back dropped to my waist. I internally screamed.

“You look divine in these jeans,” He said, his voice full of untempered desire. “I saw you come here and I had to follow you. I had to touch you…” he gasped.

His hand dropped from my waist, slithering down my thighs. My body tensed up, screaming for me to do something, stop his hand, do anything but I felt rooted. My breath changed to rapid heaves.

His hand changed trajectory and moved towards my groin.

Oliver, stop his hand. Stop him. Stop him before it’s too late…

“Get away from him,” said a deep voice to the right, right where the door was supposed to be.

Lionel’s movements stopped and we both looked at the source of the voice.

It was Jude. He was standing motionless at the door. His face was set in a hard expression. He had worn a brown leather jacket with a white Tee underneath, black denim and white shoes. He was holding on to his backpack with a remarkable grip that tightened the more he looked at us.

My stomach dropped. Now, the two people I was avoiding were in the same vicinity.

I wanted to dig myself a grave and die.

Shoot me in the face.

“Jude?” Lionel said with shock, like he recognised him. But of course he recognised him. Jude was a talented athlete in our school. One of the top sportsmen. Of course he knew him. And Jude knew Lionel too because he was a soccer player. Sportsmen in our school hang around together.

Oh my god. What had I gotten myself into?

“Get away from him, Lionel” Jude repeated. “Before things get ugly.”

Lionel backed away from me and I could finally breathe. I couldn’t feel his disgusting touch. Thank god.

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Lionel said, “I was checking him for drugs and-“

“Looks like you were checking for more than drugs,” Jude said, clearly not buying the excuse. “You like guys. Why am I not surprised?”

Lionel doubled over like he was punched. “No I don’t.”

“Your hand seemed to suggest otherwise when I entered here.”

A flood of rage flashed over Lionel’s face. “You didn’t see anything, Adams. If you say anything, I’ll ruin your life. I’ll ruin your brother’s life.”

“Oh really?”

“My Dad is the Head of Sports department. I can get you outed from the athlete’s team. I can get you out of this school.”

Jude scoffed. “I’d like to see you try.” His eyes wandered to me for a sec before returning to Lionel. “Leave you sorry piece of shit. Before I make you.”

“Why do you care about this,” Lionel demanded, “You know this faggot?” He nodded at me and I suddenly had the urge to spit at him.

“He’s my brother’s friend.”

A look of dawning realization swept Lionel’s face. “Or you like him too. You’re fucking him.”

Jude didn’t say anything though a muscle on his jaw tensed.

Why wasn’t he saying anything? Now it looks like we have something going on between us.

Is he crazy? Say no.

“You are fucking him,” Lionel burst out into a harsh laugh. “You’re a faggot too.”

Jude just stood there while Lionel burst into more laughs. I felt like I was in a horror movie and I was the first victim to die.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Lionel smirked. “If it’s Oliver you want, we can share him.”

Jude’s fists clenched.

“I can get him on Mondays and Saturdays and you can fuck him the other days. Sounds fair to me-“

Jude moved so fast I barely registered it until five seconds later. Lionel was on the floor cradling his nose with his hands and Jude was next to him, his fist splattered with blood.

He had punched him so hard, blood was coming out of his nose.

I gasped, my hands flying to my mouth.

“Son of a bitch!” Lionel spoke through his hands, his voice muffled. “I’ll get you for that. I’ll get my dad to out you from the team. I’ll-“

“I wouldn’t do that.” Jude’s mouth betrayed a sideways smile. “When I came in and saw you two in your business, I happened to snap a pic or two of you. I’m sure the soccer team would absolutely love to see them.”

Lionel’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

Jude motioned towards the door with his head. “Get out of here.”

Lionel got up quicker than someone with a possibly broken nose should and bolted out of the door. Jude looked over as he left with a disgusted expression.

Did all this just happen? Oh my god.