Page 6

Chapter 6

Lessons in Humility

Logan's stomach twisted as he stood outside the door to his own room, still struggling to work out what to say to his roommate inside. He'd spent the entire drive here trying to come up with something, but nothing sounded right.

Those after-school specials didn't exactly cover this scenario

The entire house was quiet, all the guys off at the party. Logan could hear rustling coming from the other side of the door, along with the occasional bang and some muffled cursing. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on their door.

"Go the fuck away!" Wally yelled from inside, and…yeah. That was pretty fair after what'd just happened.

Logan scowled, jamming his hands heavily into the pockets of his hoodie. He didn't want to be here. Wanted to be anywhere except here. Would be too, if he'd had any other choice.

"Please, Wally?" Logan winced at the odd sound in his voice. "I need to talk to you."

"Too bad!" Wally shouted back. "Because I don't need to talk to you!"

"I, um…I kinda need your help," Logan admitted.

There was a long pause before Wally finally opened the door. He didn't step back so Logan could come in, one eye glaring balefully at Logan from the slim gap.

"What the fuck do you want?" Wally muttered.

"I want in my room," Logan told him. "You forget we share it?"

"Not anymore," Wally replied, before turning, retreating back inside their room.

He'd left the door open, though, and Logan didn't hesitate to slip through it in case Wally changed his mind.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Logan asked as he shut the door behind him.

Wally just huffed a noise somewhere on the wrong side of a laugh. He was shirtless now, his hair still damp from the spilled drink. Logan was surprised to see a duffel bag open on his bed, Wally furiously stuffing it with the shirts and jeans he was grabbing randomly by the handful from his dresser. He was so intent on shoving everything he owned into the bag, he didn't seem to notice the loud click as Logan locked their door.

"Going somewhere?" Logan asked, eyeing the duffle.

He barely got a desultory one-shoulder shrug for his efforts, Wally's hasty movements not slowing down at all.

"Heading home for the weekend?" Logan tried again as he stepped closer, even though he suspected the guess was wrong.

"Dunno," Wally muttered without looking up, his voice rough and the line of his spine and shoulders uncomfortably hard. "But like fuck am I sticking around here, waiting for you and the guys to 'Wet Wally' me in the middle of the night."

Shit

Logan licked his lips, gut roiling with the same feeling he got peering up at the scoreboard in the final quarter; sweaty and aching, knowing the next ten minutes would only be a grueling exercise in futility because they'd already lost.

Did you boys come here hoping for some pansy-assed trophy, or did you come here to play? came the memory of Logan's father when he'd coached Logan's senior traveling team. You go out there and do whatever you have to do, as long as you bring back a win — or I swear I'll make sure none of you ever set foot on my field again.

Whatever I have to. Logan took a deep breath. Alright then

"I need your help," Logan said.

"Why the fuck should I care?" Wally's head shot up, his eyes red-rimmed as he threw a suspicious glare Logan's way. "Wait. What kind of help?"

"Coach just chewed my ass out this afternoon about… about my grades, and about a stupid thing I shouldn't have done. I'm — " Logan swallowed, glancing at the door and lowering his voice. "I'm kinda in some serious trouble right now, and… He can't find out about the 'Wet Wally' game."

"'Game' is a pretty generous term," Wally snapped, turning to yank at the overstuffed duffel's zipper and snarling as it refused to close. "'Game' implies everyone agreed to play, and that all of the participants are having fun. 'Game' isn't the word I'd use when it's just a bully bent on tormenting someone minding their own damn business. Again ."

"I swear, it was an accident. You ran into me , remember?"

"What I remember is years of you pulling that same kind of shit, picking on me day after day for no reason!"

Logan scowled. "When was I picking on you?"

Okay, so he remembered a few jokes. And maybe there were a few pranks, too. And sure, there was the Wet Wally thing, but that had only lasted a couple of weeks, right? Logan couldn't think of anything that could account for an expression that angry on Wally's face.

"You know, they all called me Oz until you showed up," Wally said to his duffel bag, half turned away from Logan, his voice low. "Now it's Wally again. It's like no matter what I do, I can't fucking escape you."

"That's not my fault!" Logan sputtered.

"Isn't it?" Wally spat, spearing Logan with a glare that could melt steel. "When they told me you'd asked to room with me, I thought… I thought maybe it meant a chance to put this shit behind us. That you were done being an ass, and wanted all this 'bonds of brotherhood' crap. That we could both have a fresh start. Fuck . I dunno why, but… I trusted you. I should have known better."

"You can trust me," Logan replied. "I didn't know you'd changed your name, and I'd never have dreamed they'd try pulling the Wet Wally thing. I just — I screwed up, okay?"

"Yeah? Because from where I'm standing, you've been screwing with me for years, and not in the fun way."

And that brought Logan up short, fidgeting. "So…it's true?"

Wally's eyes narrowed. "Is what true?" he asked suspiciously.

"That, um… That you like guys?" Logan whispered, as if there was anyone else in the house to hear. "That you're… You know."

"Gay?" Wally replied, incredulously. "Is that what this is about? Yes, Logan — your roommate is a big flaming homo. You've only been on my case about it for the last four years since I came out."

"Wait," Logan said, reeling. "You've been out four years ?"

"You were the one who outed me!" Wally glared.

"I was? But… how? I only just found out tonight!" Logan told him honestly.

"You literally called me 'Gaylord' our entire freshman year of high school," Wally snapped. "After that, it's not like the rainbow cat was going back in the bag."

"Oh. Um." Logan flushed hot, remembering. "That's because I was out sick the day the teacher introduced you to the class, and Jimmy Bridges swore that was your last name."

"And you never thought to learn my first name?" Wally sputtered.

Logan shrugged. He had, obviously. Eventually. "All the teams I played on, we called each other by our last names. I guess it was kind of a habit."

Wally just looked at Logan strangely, his hands stilling on the pile of clothes jammed into the duffel bag.

And this… This might not be the best time, but if Wally really was about to leave the house? It could be Logan's only shot.

He took a deep breath.

"So, um… can you help me?"

Wally scowled. "Why would I help you ?"

Logan winced. But for all the anger loaded into Wally's voice… That wasn't a ' no ', was it?

"Look, I told you: Coach said I'm about to get kicked off the team," Logan whispered, his shoulders hunching. "My grades are already on the line, and I've got to find a way to bring them up. Because if I can't, or if you file a formal complaint…they'll cut me from the team."

"So? Why should I care?" Wally huffed. "Fuck your grades. What are you even telling me for? If you haven't gotten it through your thick skull, I'm furious. Maybe I should file a formal report — of you being a fucking idiot."

"Wally — "

"Why would you give me that kind of ammo?" Wally asked, his voice rising. "Especially after tonight?"

Logan swallowed harshly, glancing away.

"Trust," he said simply. "To show you I'm serious, I guess? That I really do need your help. That's what I'm asking you… That I mean it."

" 'What you're asking me?' " Wally repeated, scoffing. "Is this where the mighty jock asks the nerd to tutor him so he can stay on the team? You gonna give me dating tips or something in return, Casanova? Maybe offer to set me up with one of your girlfriend's sorority sisters?"

Logan shook his head. "Pretty sure Madeline just broke it off with me. She saw what happened at the party, and…" Logan grimaced as he spread his hands, his neck flushing hot as Wally laughed again.

"Good," Wally spat. "Serves you right."

Logan thought fast, reviewing Wally's words. "Do you want dating tips?"

"'Fraid that's not gonna work, Logan. I don't exactly play for your team," Wally snapped. Then he tilted his head, considering. "Of course, maybe if you helped me make a play for someone on your team…? Gotta say, those skin tight shorts you prance around the field in are fucking hot . But then, you'd have to tell them you've spent the last few weeks sharing a room with your gay roommate. Wonder how they'll take it? Might think you're gay, too, you consider that? You've seen how the guys here at the house are. You really believe your football team will be much better? Maybe next time it'll be you getting 'Wet Wally'd. Only, you'll have deserved it."

Logan's fists clenched at his sides, indignation flooding his throat and spilling out of his mouth in a hiss. "Don't know how many times I have to say it, but I swear — my drink getting dumped on you was an accident."

"Oh yeah? And who let them in on that little game of yours? Who told everyone to start calling me Wally again?" Wally snarled. "Or are you really so stupid you didn't think I'd guess it was you, Logan?"

"I didn't mean to!" Logan snapped. "Ashton said legacies don't get hazed, and I was trying to point out you were a legacy, too. How was I supposed to know you were trying to change your name? It's Ashton who's behind the 'Wet Wally' crap this time, not me. And! I just told him I'd punch him in the face and file a complaint against him if he did it again, too."

Wally rolled his eyes, looking bored. "Okay, great. You're a regular homo-hero. Good for you. You expecting an award? A cape, maybe? Get fucked."

Logan sucked in a breath, instinctively shoving his shoe in the door before Wally could finish closing it.

"Okay," he said quietly, jumping in before his better judgment could get in the way of his future.

" 'Okay' ?" Wally laughed darkly. "'Okay' to what ?"

Logan rubbed at the back of his neck, but…

"Is that what it'll take?"

"Is that… Is that what what will take?" Wally repeated, shocked. "What are you talking about?"

"I'll do whatever, man. I'm not kidding," Logan sighed. "Look, I really, really need your help getting my grades up, or Coach is going to cut me. I can't promise to hook you up with any of the cheerleaders — " Logan held up a hand to stop the argument he could already read in Wally's face before he could get started. " — not even the two guys on the cheer squad that are into dating other guys, much less any of the three others who aren't. And I definitely can't help you bag one of the other players on my team. I don't have any money to pay you to tutor me, either. My scholarships barely cover my tuition and house dues as it is."

"Really selling your case here, hot stuff," Wally said flatly. "You're deluded if you think I'm going to spend my time helping tutor you. And on top of that, you're not even offering to pay me or set me up on a date? So, what are you offering? A pair of those ridiculously expensive shoes you and the other guys drool over? Not interested. The way I see it, you've got nothing I want."

Logan blew out a huge breath. "There might be one thing."

Was he really going to do this?

"And what would that be?" Wally asked, everything from the way he was squinting at Logan now to the arms crossed over his chest reading: skeptical.

But what other choice did Logan have here, really? He needed to get his grades up. He needed to make sure Wally didn't go file a complaint that would wind up on Coach Rankin's desk. He needed to maintain his place on the team, and to keep playing football. Because without football, what else did Logan have?

But Wally didn't want money, even if Logan could've afforded to pay. He wasn't interested in Logan's rare sneakers, or his help getting a date, or just about anything else Logan could afford to part with.

And so he took a deep breath, and offered Wally the one thing Logan was sure the other man wanted:

"Me."