Page 29 of The Boy Next Door

With the week I'm having, I freeze in the middle of the school hallway when I see Hunter texted me. My heart leaps into my throat. He won't break up over text, right? Perhaps I'm jumping to conclusions, but he never texts first.

"People walking here!"

"Sorry." Moving to the side and letting others pass, I tell myself reading the message now is better than worrying about the possible content all day.

Since I'm preparing for the worst, it takes a few tries to process the words I find.

How the hell did me and my friends survive this long? the message reads. There are actually several messages, which contain sentiments like sure, we aren't the brightest bunch, but this is a new low. And only place tougher to break into than LA is NYC and it's dreary as hell half the damn year.

Reviewing the small novel he sent, possibly more words than he's ever texted combined, he's telling me some of his friends are forming a band. In New York City. A band they hope Hunter will join. In New York City.

My hands shake slightly as I respond.

Sam: When are you leaving?

Hunter: What? I didn't say yes.

I wait, though nothing else comes through. Does that mean he didn't say no either?

This isn't the end of the world. One of my art schools is in NYC. Well, I applied to one there. It may not matter anyway because maybe I'm enough for life here, but there's so many interesting, beautiful, gay people in big cities. He could find another guy.

Maybe I should say something supportive…

Sam: Why are you telling me about this if you aren't interested?

Hunter: Isn't this the boyfriend thing? Telling you about my day.

Sam: So you aren't going to accept?

Hunter: I'm not a rocker anymore.

Sam: Then what are you?

I hold my breath as I wait for a response. Hoping for any other answer. Professional waiter. Rodeo clown. Trash collector. Anything.

Hunter: I haven't figured that out yet.

Much as I wanna be supportive, my mind stalls before I get there, too caught up on the part where Hunter leaves. He's dreamed of being a musician for ages.

Him wanting me? Much more recent.

And when weighing the options, is it even really a contest? Sure, life there will be expensive and more of the same hustle he left behind, but it's still New York. It's still music.

Yeah, there's no contest. I'm on the losing side.

~

This day seems particularly long, so I'm grateful when the final bell rings. And exhausted. My limbs feel heavy as I drag my feet while everybody else rushes, so I'm a straggler.

I'm almost outside when I hear, "Hey, Sam!"

Turning, there's Dylan jogging the remaining distance between us in the hallway.

His brown hair is a few shades lighter now, fading back into his original color, and the blend suits him perfectly. Unlike the shirt that must be his brother’s, unless Dylan secretly loves Nirvana.

He tugs on the collar with a laugh. "Laundry day." Before I can comment, he notices my empty hands. "Don't you have photo club?"

Totally slipped my mind. "My camera isn't even here."

"Well, I'm glad I caught you. I wanted to talk." Oh god, the last time he wanted to talk he brought up my inconvenient crush. "And say thank you for patching things up between me and Hunter. Can I give you a hug?"

When I must nod, he does, though I'm too stunned to... do anything. Not expecting the gratitude and warmth from him, I'm off guard and unexpectedly touched.

"N-no, I can't take the credit. You two—"

"We cleared the air after you forced us. You put yourself in an awkward position to help, and you stood up to Hunter, that's not nothing." His smile is so sweet I remember why I once adored him. What a simpler time. "It means a lot."

"T-thanks."

"No, that's what I'm saying to you. Thanks." His cheeks heat suddenly and he looks away. "And the rest, well, it can wait."

"The rest?"

His smile is strained. "This isn't the best time."

"Are you sure? Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Dylan starts shaking his head, freezing as he watches me and seems to debate something. "I guess there's never going to be a good time. So complicated as it is, you should know I think you're terrific."

"Thanks." I manage a genuine smile.

"And you should know I like you." The world slows down, everything focuses in on this moment when he says the craziest thing ever. "Not only as friends. I really like you , Sam."

Is this really happening? Did I stumble into an old dream? How do I wake up?