Page 26 of The Boy Next Door

Rushing inside to escape the cold, I smile. The house is nice and toasty, and I feel good. School's over for the day and... okay, things are going great with Hunter. I've been smiling nonstop, even if we haven't seen each other in a few days while he starts his new job.

Then I notice Mom. She has a hand on her chest, her mouth a thin line, and I can barely see the dark lipstick there.

There's an envelope in her other hand. Clearly ripped, but before I can tell her to stop opening my mail, I see where it comes from. Rhode Island School of Design. Oh no.

If they accepted me, she'd already have started convincing me not to go. Which means...

"I'm sorry, son," she offers quietly.

And if there's any doubt, there's the kicker.

I didn't get into art school.

~

Life happens as though I'm underwater. Mom calls to me from the surface, but I can't hear. I'm not sure how long I sit in my room staring at the closet door before I finally submerge. The thoughts don't come easy, given oxygen deprivation and the world turning upside down.

There's a queasy feeling in my stomach like I might hurl. A growing sadness I'd need tears to fully release, but they aren't coming.

I applied to three art schools. Not getting into one... it sucks so badly. But it's not over yet. When taking deep breaths and trying to settle myself doesn't work, I wanna see Hunter.

Only after ringing the bell do I remember to check the driveway. His car isn't there. Maybe he’s at work?

"Hey, Sam," Dylan says, answering the door.

He's wearing an old football jersey, the red material stretching tight over his broad shoulders... the visual does nothing for me.

"Hi, do you know when Hunter's going to be back?"

"Wow, that's all?" Dylan scoffs. "We were friends first."

"Then again, maybe I should go home." I start turning around.

"It's fine, come on in."

...Since he didn't answer my question, and the fall weather is well into chilly, I do.

Dylan and I stand awkwardly in the entryway as we both realize we were rude.

Which explains why I'm slightly uncomfortable, but it wasn't that important, so why is Dylan shuffling his feet and not making eye contact?

"Hey, can we talk?" Before I can answer, he blurts out, "Did you have a crush on me?"

I'm back underwater, and I hope to stay here forever, far away from the panic on the surface.

"What?" I manage.

"You heard me right." He watches me carefully.

Thought I was as miserable as possible, one dream school down, two to go. Here's another dream denied, one of a personal nature. I'm alright with the outcome, but I dreamed of being with him for so long. Until finding a guy who likes me when we're both awake.

So, the last thing I need? Another rejection. Even though I don't want Dylan anymore, I can't handle his polite smile and some explanation about us being better as friends, a less formal version of 'Mr. Bell, we regret to inform you...'

I choose the simplest explanation.

"Uh-huh, I liked you." Don't panic! "When we were younger."

Not the whole story, though still true.

"What about more recently?"

"Huh, wha-where…" Ah! Denials and questions and words can’t escape from my rapidly closing throat.

There isn't much room in the entryway, not on the ground. The ceiling is higher, and I wish I could float up there. Two potted plants rest in ornate black vases on either side of the door. They comfort me; if I need to throw up, I know where to aim.

"Look, it's okay." He's gentle so I stop freaking out. "I was just wondering."

"I got rejected from art school," I offer up.

Wow, was my plan to save myself from humiliation or cause more? Now I feel trapped and like a failure, but I muster an incredibly shaky smile.

"From one school anyway. So, I can't... Please, I really can't talk about this now."

Dylan nods, taking a cautious step closer. "Are you okay?"

"Not really."

"Well, hey." He pats me on the shoulder, then claps it to encourage me. "You got into Steadfast, right? And Stillman?"

"Yeah..."

"Art is offered everywhere, right? Even there."

"I guess."

"They're great schools." His cheery grin isn't as infectious as he thinks. "It's not all bad."

True, though I'm less interested in the bright side. Even if I don't end up going to art school, I hope it's my choice. Before I respond, the door opens.

"Hey, are we having a party?" Hunter asks, looking between us. Everything suddenly feels a few degrees colder.

"Hunter!" I jump away from Dylan.

"A surprise party, given how you shouted my name."

"We were just talking!" I explain.

"Sam, we're friends," Dylan addresses me but glares at his brother. "You don't have to explain."

"Hey, he's talking to me." Hunter glares back.

"I can't do this," I announce. They both turn to me, and I can't deal with that either, so I leave.

~

The chilly air invades my senses, a welcome shock to my system. Steadying myself and debating whether going home and facing Mom or standing outside all night and freezing to death is the less painful option, it's easy for Hunter to find me when he emerges from the house a few minutes later.

"Hey, you're still here. Cool." He nods to his car. "Let's go."

"No, wait. Let's go back inside."

Despite giving in to the urge to escape, I feel guilty about leaving things between the brothers the way they are, especially if I’m responsible.

So much is beyond my control. The doubts and anxieties threaten to overwhelm me. What if I don't get into art school, what if I fail, what if, what if...

This? I can control. Hopefully.

Dylan's watching Sports Center on the couch in the living room. I mute the volume and ignore his protests. I stand in front of the TV, watching them both. Behind the couch, Hunter crosses his arms, instantly guarded, while Dylan just appears annoyed that I'm blocking his beloved sports.

"What I saw," I start. "Do you act like that when I'm not here?"

"No, not exactly." Hunter isn't totally convincing as he looks away, scratching the back of his neck.

"Dylan?" I ask the younger brother for confirmation.

"We're okay..." He twists in his seat to look at his sibling. "But sometimes I catch you glaring at me."

"Dude!" the older brother hisses.

"What? You do!"

"Because you smirk at me."

"What?" Dyl squawks, leaping up to face Hunter. "I don't!"

"You so do."

"You do?" I voice accidentally.

"N-no, not on purpose." He points at his brother. "You smirk all the time!"

"You're happy about this."

"Not because of the situation exactly..." Dylan shrugs helplessly. "I mean, do you have any idea how hard it is to get one over on you?"

"Yes," I blurt. They stare at me. "Well, I do."

"Oh, you're both against me?" Hunter huffs, throwing his hands in the air.

"There's no sides." Focusing, I stand up to my full height and summon my strength. "You're brothers. This ends now."

"Sam," Hunter starts.

"Seriously, knock it off."

"Or what?" He challenges immediately, one eyebrow raised.

"What do you mean, 'or what'?" I ask, losing steam.

"What are you gonna do if I don't?"

“Don’t you want to get along with your brother? Why are you even arguing?”

He shrugs. “It’s in my nature.”

“Your nature is twisted.”

“Some people find it charming.” Hunter winks. “Don’t you think I’m charming?”

“I… you… this isn’t what we’re supposed to be talking about!”

"Do I need to be here for this?" Dylan wonders. Oops, kinda forgot he was there.

"Get lost," Hunter orders without looking.

"Stay right there!" I shout.

Honestly, it's kinda shocking. I'm aware of my changing feelings for the Cruse brothers, how one wanes while the other rises. But Dylan and I are on one side of the couch, and he's between me and his brother. Yet Hunter turns flirty and rebellious, and I completely forget we aren't alone.

I try laying down the law again.

"There's no 'or else,' but you're both going to listen to me anyway."

Dylan doesn't protest. Hunter scrutinizes me, making it a struggle to keep my composure. Standing up to him seemed impossible once, yet now I've done it more than once.

"You're hot when you get bossy," Hunter decides.

"I-I'm not sure I can ever make it happen again." I resist the urge to fan my heated face.

"I think that's why it's hot."

"But I feel strongly about this, and you can't distract me!

" I insist, slightly screechy, but I clear my throat and focus.

"This isn't even about me. You're brothers.

Whatever relationship either of you has with me shouldn't change that.

" I turn to Hunter. "Dyl was so excited to see more of you, and don't lie, you probably felt exactly the same. "

My confidence evaporates and I look down, hugging myself with my arms. "I hate the idea of me getting in the way. If I'm causing problems, I-I-I don't know what I'll do, but it won't be good."

Not totally the truth. The solution is simple enough. If I'm the problem, I should remove myself from the situation. Except I just found Hunter. I'd hate letting him go so soon. Hopefully it won't come to that.

Hunter looks my way and opens his mouth, then his eyes cut to his brother. “Give us a second.”

That’s all the warning I get before he pulls me to the tasteful foyer and wraps his arms around me. Just when I get with the program and hug him back, he pulls away.

“Thanks for trying to talk some sense into me,” he whispers.

“Did it work?”

“Yeah, I’ll fix things,” he says. “I promise.”

I don't think he wants me to leave either, not permanently. For now, however, it’s time for me to exit so they can talk, brother to brother.