Page 33 of The Boy Next Door

I sit at the kitchen table, staring at the sheet of paper. Distantly, I hear Mom clicking her heel against the floor, waiting for a reaction, waiting—I just keep staring at the paper.

Mr. Bell, we regret to inform you...

Another rejection from another art school.

Though this has happened before, it's still a blow.

Still painful. The tears are there, but I won't let them fall.

Grabbing the paper, I'm tempted to crumple it and throw it across the room.

I only push the rejection away from me, literally, but it's not so easy to get distance emotionally.

There's still one more art school. I won't give up yet. I have to know. I have to wait.

"Sam," Mom says. "We should—"

"Not yet."

"If these two passed, what hope is there?"

"Mom."

"Be reasonable, please…"

"Look, I understand..." Fighting the lump in my throat, I force out the words.

"Art school might not happen." Ouch. To satisfy her, I offer a compromise.

"I'll decide between Stillman and Steadfast, I'll meet with any interviewers you line up, but I can't make a final decision until I know for sure. Alright?"

She watches me, evaluating for any weakness, or maybe we're having a staring contest. Raw from my latest failure, holding her gaze is almost physically painful, but I manage.

Eventually, Mom nods. "Alright... do you have somewhere to be?"

Huh? Oh, I'm standing up. Already heading toward the door.

Yeah, there's somewhere I need to be.

There's a lot about the future I don't know. That's partly why what I do know seems especially important, and also... it's my heart. I know my heart. Right now, that counts for everything.

~

When I first applied to art school, it was the secret dream I hesitated to even mention, too afraid I'd be laughed at. I applied to prove something to myself or satisfy myself that at least I tried.

I hadn't realized how much I actually wished to pursue art. Or how devastating each rejection would feel. Now I’m kicking myself for not applying to more art schools.

But I only selected three.

There's not a damn thing I can do to change that now. All I can do is keep living my life. I decide to focus on what I can control.

Dylan doesn't seem heartbroken when he opens the door, only slightly awkward.

"Hunter isn't here."

"Yeah, I didn't see his car."

"You're here for me?" His eyes dart to his own car, perhaps imagining a quick escape. "Is that a good idea?"

"See, this is what we should talk about."

While he looks like he's unprepared for a major test he hasn't studied for, he invites me in. We go into the living room, sitting on the plush white couches this time instead of the floor. After how close we came to screwing things up, we need to clear the air.

"Is this about Hunter?" Dylan laughs. "You know, I never would have pictured you two together."

"I-I really like him. He's creative and fearless." Should I gush about the guy I like to the guy I just turned down? No. "Oh, maybe you don't wanna hear this."

"You're not telling me anything I don't know." He hesitates, then offers, "Did you know I dyed my hair because of Hunter?"

"Like, you lost a bet to him?"

"No, I wasn't sure I'd get any of the internships I wanted, and I needed some confidence. Hunter is the bravest person I know, so I thought I could channel him or something." He runs a hand through his hair. "Except I doubted I could pull off black, so I went brunet instead."

Huh. I guess the older Cruse brother inspires us both. It's common ground, but I'm not sure how to broach this next part. Though there's enough space on the couches for two people to sit comfortably without touching, we sat across from each other, keeping our distance.

We both seem ashamed, like the insanity has passed and we're not sure what we were thinking before.

Well, I know what I was thinking. The same Dylan-centric thoughts always playing in my mind until the elder Cruse brother came back and our relationship changed.

But I'm still not sure why Dylan wanted me.

Something changed for him before it thankfully changed back. I just don't know what.

"Look," Dylan begins. "We probably shouldn't tell Hunter you and I ever considered... what we considered."

"Are you okay with that?" I ask, surprised. “Are you sure? I hadn’t really figured out what to do about that yet.”

"Yeah, it’s for the best. You're the one doing me a favor."

"Really? I'm supposed to be with your brother and..."

As an only child, I don't have personal experience with sibling relationships. However, entertaining the idea of dating Dylan while I'm with his brother? It seems like the sort of thing a loving brother might want to kill me for.

"Well, it's kinda weird," Dylan admits. "But you had a crush on me, right?"

"For so long, I—" We don't need to rehash the mortifying details. "Yeah."

"We're seniors," he reasons. "Looking at colleges, everything is changing. And your relationship with Hunter is new. Maybe it was all too much for a moment and you fell back on something familiar?" He smiles kindly. "I understand that. You know who you want now, right?"

"Definitely," I answer without difficulty.

"Okay, because that was your one free pass." Brows scrunching together, he makes a stern face. "You better not hurt him."

"I won't."

"I mean it."

While I find his threatening face a tad adorable, he crosses his arms and I remember all the muscles he has that I don't. Definitely kinda threatening.

So, I give him the sincere truth.

"Seriously, I only wanna make Hunter happy."

~

Leaving the Cruse house, there's a smile on my face. It disappears when Hunter and I nearly run into each other, and we're both surprised. My smile and I recover from the shock first.

"Just who I wanted to see. Wanna go on a date?"

He stares as though it's a trick question.

"No," he decides.

"Oh." My positive attitude threatens to wilt at his curt behavior, but I rally. "I wanted to take you out. Are you okay?"

"No."

Hunter isn't looking at me so much as looking ahead, and I'm not sure he sees anything in front of him. Bad day at work? If it weren't for him standing upright and no tire tracks on his coat, I'd say a car ran him over.

"What's wrong?" I wonder.

He laughs.

As I reach out, he takes a step back. Oh no. What if the problem is us? Or more specifically, him.

"You promised you wouldn't go distant again," I remind.

"Why does it matter?"

"It matters to me."

"Because we're dating? At least until something better comes along." Finally, he focuses on me and scowls. "Until Dylan notices you."

The problem isn’t Hunter. It’s me? Me and the guy I used to like.

"N-no, I don't like Dylan!" Sucking in too much icy air too quickly, the cold stabs at my lungs, somewhat undercutting my seriousness as I breathlessly insist, "There's no reason to be jealous."

"I know." His cool demeanor thaws, and he looks sad. "I never had a shot."

"What?"

"I'm the wrong guy."

"You're the right guy," I swear fiercely. Even if I don't know what's happening, I know that much.

"But not the one the note was for."

"What?" No, no way…

"The note was for Dylan," Hunter says.

The one certainty in my life? Just became a longshot. Hunter knows the truth.