Page 18 of Win You Over

Holden

W ind rips through the trees. Their branches whipping together frantically, like the long spindly fingers of a witch.

Monsters with dark, blackened eyes and sharp fangs hover over me.

I’m crying soundlessly, my own tears forming puddles around my neck.

I try to move my arms, but they’re trapped above my head, held down by a weight that burns when I move.

A sharp stinging pain that feels like it goes right through to the bone.

There’s an acrid smell mixed in with the damp stench of decay that turns my stomach. And laughter. So much laughter.

“Beg little freak. Beg,” the voices say, and I cry harder, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to rip my hands from where they’re sinking into the wet mud. Mud created by my own tears.

“Hold!” A distant yet familiar voice echoes through the dark forest.

“Hold, wake up!” it shouts again, and I fight against the restraints holding me down.

I shoot up, my eyes opening to reveal my bedroom. The orange glow from a streetlamp slithers through our threadbare curtains, lighting up Theo’s worried face.

My body quakes under the force of the dream, and I wrap my arms around myself. Theo flicks on the bedside lamp before tugging me into his arms.

“The nightmares are bad again, aren’t they?” he asks. His hand running circles over my back.

I nod against his shoulder as he hums into the silence of our room, wordlessly offering me comfort. For as long as he’s known me, I’ve had periods where the dreams overtake my nights, leaving me frayed and exhausted. I can never predict them, nor can I prevent them.

Theo tips us backwards until we’re lying down. His head is on his pillow and mine on his chest, both of us wrapped in our separate blankets. I let the gentle rhythm of his heart lull me back to sleep.

When my eyes open again, the sun is shining through the curtains, washing away the nightmares and replacing them with the promise of a new day.

Theo is up, sitting at the desk, his elbows resting on his knees as he watches me. My partially packed suitcase lying closed but unzipped at his feet.

“You’re acting creepy,” I say, my voice raw from sleep.

“I don’t think you should go,” he blurts, sitting up straight. His eyes are narrowed as he chews his bottom lip.

“What?”

“To Italy. I don’t think you should go. I think you’re having nightmares again because of it.”

I shake my head despite having an inkling that the trip I’m about to take is, in part, the cause of my restless nights. Finals week didn’t help either, but now that the stress of that is over, I can’t blame them on exams.

“I lost the -”

“Fuck the bet!” he barks. “You don’t owe Langford anything. This is real life, not a game. Your life.”

“I’ll be fine,” I reply, before swinging my legs over the side of the bed and stretching. My worn vintage band t-shirt rides up, a cool breeze from the crack beneath our window caressing my warm skin.

“You barely know him, Hold. You’re always cautious around people, yet you’ve let him in, and I don’t understand why.”

I push to stand, walking over to our small chest of drawers, glancing at the small black, velvet cushion lined box that safely stores my dad’s knife.

I tuck it into my shoulder bag, having decided I’ll ask Remington if I can leave it at his place while we’re away.

I trust Theo, but I barely know the other guys who live with us, so would rather not leave the only valuable thing I own here.

Then, I pick up my phone and reply to a message my mum sent asking what my plans are for the summer.

Given I planned to go home for Christmas, I’d told her earlier in the year that I wouldn’t be visiting over the summer.

Not wanting to lie to my mum, I respond with a vague answer, saying I’m going away with a friend and hoping she will presume it’s Theo and not ask anything more.

Thankfully, she responds with a message telling me to have fun and be safe, followed by a screenshot of the countdown timer she has on her phone, counting down till my visit in December.

That makes me smile, shooting back a reply to tell her how excited I am to spend the festive season with her.

My mum and I are close. Not the way we used to be when I lived at home, which I expected to happen when I moved out.

But, she has a tendency to worry about me and the last thing I want to do is have her worrying the entire time I’m in Italy.

Locking my phone, I turn my attention back to my friend.

“But I know myself. Mostly anyway,” I say, as I sit down on the edge of the bed, giving a quick glance around the room to see what else needs to be packed.

Theo gets up and takes a seat next to me, the mattress dipping beneath our combined weight.

“And I know I’m okay with him. It’s hard to explain how or why. Other than that, when we’re alone together, I feel at ease. Not afraid or anxious that he has some nefarious motives.” I twist in my seat so I can see Theo’s face.

“I may be wrong and it wouldn’t be the first time, but I think I’m going to take the risk. In a way, he reminds me so much of you.”

That comment has Theo pulling back, his eyes searching my face for an explanation.

I clear my throat, my mind journeying back to the day I met Theo, four days into my first week at school in the US.

He’d been a quiet boy who ate lunch alone, spent time in the library and smiled sweetly at anyone who showed him any attention.

When I’d walked into the lunchroom on my first day, I’d spotted him, sitting alone on a long bench, a juice box and sandwich in front of him, a worn copy of Romeo and Juliet in his hand.

My immediate thought was, what twelve-year-old chooses to read Shakespeare on their lunch break?

I sat alone that day too, and we were, without even realising it then, kindred souls.

Two lonely boys, who would soon enough realise they needed each other, if only one could be brave enough to close the distance.

I couldn’t be the person to strike up a friendship with anyone, nor could I allow anyone to attempt one with me.

Trust was not something I did. But Theo?

He was the little mouse, crawling into the smallest crack in my armour, making itself at home in my heart.

Theo is the only person besides my mum, who knows my full story. Every single, painful detail.

“He’s persistent, like you were that first week we met,” I start. “Remember how you worked up the courage to slide into the seat next to me at lunch? You asked me what my favourite colour was and then offered me an Oreo.”

“And you shook your head and pushed my Oreos onto the floor,” Theo says, a smile settling on his face. “You wanted me to fuck off.”

“But you didn’t, did you?”

Theo shakes his head, his mousy red curls falling into his eyes.

“No, I came back the next day with a pad of paper and two marker pens.” I think back fondly on those first few weeks, when Theo would sit next to me at lunch, a pen and paper in front of him.

He’d draw columns and have me write my favourites – colours, animals, foods – and then he’d do the same, giving us what he called “friendship points” every time we matched.

Even the few times I pushed his pens away, or tore up his paper, he never quit on me.

“Remington is like you in that way. And also like you, he’s kind, and he doesn’t push me for answers. He doesn’t think I’m odd or a freak-”

“Because you’re not,” Theo retorts.

“And that is another thing you have in common. You both treat me like I’m…” My eyes dart around the room, searching for the right words. “Not different.”

Theo doesn’t look convinced, but he also doesn’t argue.

“That’s why you feel comfortable around him?”

I nod. “It’s hard to explain, but it’s like my heart and body just know he’s safe. Like I knew you were all those years ago.” It’s a dangerous statement to make about Remington, because I felt safe with Lucas too. I was na?ve and weak then. I am neither of those now.

Theo laughs. “Where is the Holden Booker who thought the guy was a smug jerk? This is some strange case of the body snatchers.”

My own lips stretch into a grin to match his. “He really is a smug jerk… sometimes. It’s annoyingly endearing.”

The room falls silent, both of us lost in our own thoughts before Theo asks. “Why mostly?”

“Huh?” I reply, my eyes scrunched in confusion.

“You said earlier that you mostly know yourself. Why mostly?”

My cheeks burn and I flop back on the bed, looking up at the cracks in our ceiling. Theo does the same, then turns to face me. When I slide onto my side so we’re face to face, I’m warmed by the thought of how much I love this man. My best friend. The brother I always wanted.

“Because I’ve always thought I’m straight. Not that I’ve given it loads of thought, but now. Um…”

My pulse races and a tightening starts in my throat as I think of how best to explain it to Theo.

To explain how confused Remington has me feeling.

How sometimes I catch myself staring at him and wondering what it would be like to press my lips to his skin, or feel his hands in my hair.

My thinking sets off a flurry in my stomach and I close my eyes briefly before opening them and looking my best friend straight on.

“I...uh...um...God why is this so hard?”

Theo stares at me and I try again.

“I like him.” I rush the words out, imploring Theo with my eyes to understand.

“Like him...”

“ Like him.” I emphasise the word, hoping it’s enough this time. For someone who studies the English language, I’m not good at using it to open up.

“Romantically?” he asks.

Fire burns from my cheeks to my ears and I’m sure by now I am sporting a blush bright enough to rival the sun.

“I think so?” My words feel heavy like stones and my heart pounds something fierce.

“Are you asking me?” Theo jokes. I can tell he’s trying to remain serious with the way his bottom lip twitches before he pulls it between his teeth.

I punch his shoulder playfully. Frustration getting the best of me when I try to speak again. Sometimes when the topic overwhelms me, my voice shuts down. If it’s not the environment, or the people, it’s the topic. There is always fucking something.

Theo pulls his phone from his pocket and hands it to me.

He makes me feel something...I don’t know how to explain it. I’m interested in everything he says and does, and I want him to keep talking and trying to make me laugh. I have fun with him. And he makes me feel…”

“Horny? Aroused?” Theo asks.

I shake my head.

It’s more than that. It’s like a warmth in my organs. Saying he gives me butterflies sounds like such a schoolboy thing to say, but that’s the best way I can explain it.

“Fucking hell, I did not expect to have this conversation so early on a Saturday morning,” Theo snorts. “So you think you’re gay? Or bi?”

I shrug.

Maybe one of those. Or something else. I don’t know. All I know is that I find myself thinking of Remington in ways that go beyond friendship. For the record, I do not think of you in those same ways.

“Well, thank fuck for that!” He rolls onto his stomach but keeps his face turned towards me.

“It doesn’t matter,” I manage to say, quietly. “He doesn’t like me as more than a friend.”

“You’re sure of that?”

I nod. “He flirts with everyone. It’s who he is. He’s out of my league, anyway.”

“Oh, fuck right off.” Theo sits up and jabs a foot into my ribs. “He may be stupidly rich, stupidly handsome and stupidly popular, but you, my friend, are far better than him.”

Sitting up, I kick him back playfully.

“Thank you.”

Theo smiles. “Look, you’re only just getting to know him.

I like that you’ve found someone else that you’re comfortable around – and I will kill him if he hurts you and he can absolutely never replace me as your best friend – but maybe take this time in Italy to get to know him better.

And if things lead somewhere else, and you’re both into it, let it. ”

The thought of things leading somewhere with Remington sets off sparks in my chest. How have I gone from wanting nothing to do with him to having a crush on him? Is it a crush? I’ve never had one before.

I blame Remington for all of this. All his charm is a danger to others. Especially to people like me, who are trying to keep safety walls up around him. Like some golden retriever version of Spiderman, he’s scaled them faster than I can build them higher.

“Now, do you need me to tell you how sex works between two men or…”

I tackle Theo onto the bed, jabbing my fingers into his ribs and making him squirm and scream mercy.