Page 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

NATE

Parker enters my room and shuts the door. On our walk around campus, he admitted something I never expected.

He’s bisexual.

At first, I thought he was trying to take Rive’s place. I even told him to fuck off. But then, he explained that he was struggling with his sexuality and wanted to talk to someone who understood.

He drags the computer chair near the bed and sits, staring at me. I lean back against the headboard, hands behind my head, wondering what the hell he wants.

Parker slides his fingers through his messy, black curls and sighs. “Can we go to Glitter? I want to see Dean and Ollie again.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Last week, I took him to Glitter. Parker was like a kid in a candy store, dancing with anyone who humped his ass. Then, he met Dean and Ollie.

Parker licks his lips. “I like Dean and Ollie. The last time… they mentioned doing stuff in a private room. And I kinda want to do it.”

“You know they do that for a living, right? It would just be dancing or sex or whatever they offered you.”

He shrugs. “I don’t care.”

“Parker has a crush,” I say, smirking. “How cute?”

“Shut up.” Parker leans forward, his big body dwarfing the chair. “I’m not as brave as you and River. I still don’t know how you guys did that in front of everyone. But I need to, you know… experiment. See if this is what I really want before I come out.”

“It was an accident. And I was delirious. But I’m glad it happened.”

“I can’t tell my dad,” he whispers. “Or the guys. I just… I don’t want them to look at me differently.”

“No one cares about River and me.”

“Yeah, but you’re you… and he’s River Rousseau. You guys can get away with a lot.”

“You’d be surprised. Give them a chance. I’ve had more love than hate. But you will get the hate. Don’t be surprised if someone shouts a gay slur at you.”

He nods. “I’m not going around campus punching people like you.”

“That asshole deserved it. No one gets to talk shit about River.”

People have approached me on campus since we came out to the world. Most offer the usual congratulatory words or tell me how brave I am. The women we fucked asked for another round.

But the first time someone called me a fag, my blood boiled in my veins. I snapped and punched the asshole, laid his ass out in front of the entire cafeteria. He slid across the floor, blood dripping from his nose, and scrambled back to his table.

I gazed around the room, daring someone else to fuck with me. No one did. After studying me like a specimen under a microscope, they all returned to eating lunch. That was the last day anyone said that word to my face.

River overhears the words whispered behind his back. Some fans have voiced their dislike of him being gay. But for the most part, people are supportive.

“River has a game this weekend,” I tell Parker. “He’s on the road until next week. Sure, we can go to Glitter together. Do you want me to text Dean to let him know?”

“Yes.” A big smile stretches across his face as he rises from the chair. “Wanna play Fortnite with me?”

I shake my head. “Nah. Just because we’re friends now doesn’t mean I’ll let you turn me into a nerd.”

He rises from the chair and snickers. “You’re such an asshole, Brooks.”

The second he leaves the room, I text River since I haven’t heard back from him.

* * *

After another therapy session, I sit on River’s bed, back pressed to the wall. The room still smells of him. Even though the sheets need washing, I can’t bring myself to strip them from the mattress.

I miss him too much.

Knees bent into my chest, I prop the journal on my thighs and flip to a blank page. I promised to continue my therapy journey. And I’m glad River insisted. Talking to Dr. Swanson and writing down my thoughts helps me work out my past and all these intense feelings about River.

Today, Dr. Swanson explained how my attachment style impacts my relationships. I have an anxious attachment. I’m so afraid of losing River that I cling to him… and she’s right. Even before we were boyfriends, I couldn’t fathom not being with River every second of the day.

Our lives feel worlds apart when only miles separate us. Most nights, I go down to the shoreline and sit on the beach. Just so I can see the light on the back porch.

He never turns it off.

River told me to go there to feel closer to him. Sometimes, I call him on FaceTime, and we sit there in silence—me on the beach and River reclined in a chair on our veranda. At our house.

I still haven’t visited our new home, where River says we’ll start our lives.

Four more months.

The wait might kill me.

I drop the pen into the book’s fold and toss it onto the bed. Without thinking, I slip on sneakers, grab a winter jacket, and head downstairs. My feet take me straight to River, to the exact spot on the beach I sit every night.

The light blinks in the distance. A twinkle that calls to me like a beacon of hope.

I pull out my phone and call River on FaceTime. He answers on the third ring, his dark hair flopping onto his forehead as he comes into view. His green eyes practically pop off his face, and they are so beautiful that my chest aches.

“Hey, babe,” he says. “You okay?”

He’s been calling me that a lot lately. I like having a nickname. River can call me anything he wants.

“I miss you,” I confess. “Needed to see your face.”

The phone moves as he walks, and I hear him open the French door. “How was therapy?”

He steps outside, the light in the background quickly swallowed up by the darkness. River plops into a chair and licks his lips.

He asked me a question.

I’m too distracted by his face.

The sound of his voice.

River clears his throat. “Did something happen today? You okay?”

“I’m fine. Just…” My words trail off as I think about how to phrase my thoughts. “I hate the distance.”

“I’ll see you next weekend,” he says, hoping to ease my anxiety. “We have two days together. And I plan to use every second to my advantage.”

I stare across the water, directly at the white light leading me home and hold back a sob. Why am I so fucking pathetic? Why can’t I get my shit together and stop acting like such a freak?

I hate anxiety.

I hate this gross feeling.

I hate that I’m clingy.

“I’m greedy,” I say, my gaze drifting back to his face. “I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.”

“You’re going to Glitter with Parker this weekend. At least you’re trying to make friends. I’m shocked you’ve been helping Parker figure out his sexuality.”

I bob my head. “I texted Dean earlier. He reserved a room downstairs. I’m leaving if they start fucking, though. Just throwing that out there. I only have eyes for you.”

River laughs. “Because you’re Riversexual?”

“Now and always.”

Our conversation continues with me telling River about therapy and how well I’m doing in my classes. He says he’s proud of me and that I’m succeeding on my own.

But I still miss him.

Long after we hang up, I sit on the beach, stare at the light leading me home… and fall asleep to thoughts of him.

Always him .