Chapter Seven: Sucks Having Two Best Friends

There's only so long a guy can stare at a ceiling before his mind starts wandering, even if avoiding that was the whole point of staring in the first place.

Right now I should be upstairs in my room buried under a few pillows and blankets, feeling sorry for myself.

But if I did that, I wouldn't hear Roy knock on the door. He deserves it, for what he did to me today, taking Jesse's side like he's known him for more than two days and hasn't known me for the whole school year. I'm the one who let Roy and Tara sit at my breakfast table on the first of school because all of the others were full. I'm the one they invited to sit with them at lunch because I was sitting alone. Me. Not Jesse.

Yeah, I would just ignore him...if I hadn't promised Tara that I'd go to her concert.

I'm such a nice person.

So instead, I'm down on our ratty old couch, listening for the familiar sound of Roy's tires on our gravel driveway as I stare at the ceiling. And I'm listening, and listening. And as I'm listening, and watching the clock slowly inch past six thirty, then past a quarter 'til, I start to feel even more sorry for myself.

He's not coming.

I jerk up when I hear a frantic horn outside my house. I jump to my knees and peek out the curtain: Roy's car is on the side of the road. He lays on the horn again. I look at the clock. Five 'til. Shit!

I run to the front door, slipping on my perpetually tied tennis shoes, and run out the door, having to turn around once I get down the steps because I forgot to lock the house (my mom would throw a hissy fit). I jog down my sidewalk and climb into the passenger seat of Roy's car. He squals away from the curb and doesn't even stop at the stop sign a foot away from my driveway (it's seriousl the most pointless spot).

"Chill, Roy," I warn when he slams his breaks just in time for a red light. He groans.

"She's going to be so dissappointed. What if they don't let us in?" He looks at me; his face is pale and tormented. "What if we miss her solo?"

"They can't keep us out," I promise. We'll break in the back if we have to; they leave the band room door open for the choir students to get in during concerts. We can sneak backstage and watch her from there. "Green light."

The car shrieks into motion.

"Go the speed limit!" I say. "We won't make it if we crash!"

He says tightly, "She sings first."

I think about this for a second. "Then why the hell are you driving so slow?!" I demand.

We arrive at 7:02 and go straight around the school to the band room entrance at the back because the parking lot is so full - we don't have time to find a space.

We hear the first piano notes of a song start as we creep through the door that leads backstage. Then a single clear soprano voice floats to our ears.

Yes, Tara can definitely sing.

The song is over too quickly, it seems. The applause is loud, and ardent. Roy and I cheer the loudest backstage, whistling and yelling, "Go Tara!" Through the side curtains, I see a couple amused choir members on the risers try to see who's making all the noise, but we're in the darkness so they can't see us. Then I guess Tara goes back to her space (we still can't see her), because the choir starts another song, this one a slow, repetitive spiritual.

Now's a good a time as any, I guess.

Turning to Roy, I whisper directly into his ear so that he can hear over the choir, "Okay, so say...hypothetically, that you had a friend - handsome and charming and, well, pretty much amazing in all ways - but he did something really stupid and he basically acted like an asshole for no reason. Would you forgive him if he apologized?"

He doesn't answer for a second.

Then he turns his head and his breath tickles the side of my face.

"Maybe if he aplologized to everyone that was at the table."

"Table? I don't think I mentioned any table."

He sighs, a rush of air. Our faces are very close.

"Look, Matt. I don't mind. I'm used to you by now, and honestly, if I were going to get mad at you for getting jealous, I would have gotten mad at you all the other million times you've done it. But Jesse didn't deserve that, and I really think you should apologize to him."

I didn't mention Jesse, either. He's completely missing the point: this is hypothetical. I don't want to talk about this. Well, talk about it, sure, but not actually talk about it. Just the regular motions of "I'm sorry" and "It's okay." This conversation is not supposed to go down this path. And what does he mean by jealous?

"I am not jealous of Jesse. Who the fuck would be jealous of someone with--"

"Don't even say it," he snaps. I don't finish the sentence, so shocked am I by his outburst. His gorgeous face looks irritable, but in a way I've never seen it before. I hate this expression. "Why do you have to be so judgemental all the time? So his hands aren't like yours or mine...so what? That doesn't change what kind of a person he is on the inside. It seems like you always try to find a reason to hate someone, Mattie. I just don't get it."

"I don't," I argue, still whispering. "I just don't like people." The argument seems perfectly logical to me. We can't all be amazing and perfect like Roy. We can't randomly start a conversation with a stranger and chatter on for hours like Tara. Some of us are ordinary. Some of us are scarred and ugly. That's just the way it is.

"You like me, don't you?" he asks. My heart sputters. "And Tara? We're people."

"That's different."

"Look, you won't lose us. I think that's maybe why...you're afraid of losing us. But don't be. We're your friends because we like you, Matt. If that were going to change, it would have the first time you threw one of your sink fits."

I open my mouth, scandalized, but he just gives me a look that dares me to say anything. That was one time, geez.

Because after that, they both refused to go in the kitchen.

I sigh. "Yeah, I know. I'm just being stupid, I guess."

Tara sees us when she steps backstage. She lights up right away, not even surprised that we're back here waiting for her. She steps out of line and comes toward us.

"You did great!" Roy compliments as soon as she's within hearing range. He needs to whisper slightly, since the band is onstage setting up. She smiles and inclines her head toward the door that leads out into the hallway. We nod with understanding and follow her out.

"I looked for you in the audience," she says when we're in the hall. "I was pissed you didn't come."

"We were a couple minutes late, but we got here before it started," Roy assures her. "You should be a nightingale instead of a sparrow. That was beautiful."

I glance at her uniform. Her robe is emerald green. Her shoes, I just now notice, are orange.

"That doesn't match," is the first thing I say to her. I point.

"It matches because it doesn't match, sillybean," she explains light-heartedly. She turns to Roy. "Can you pull the car up? These things are a bitch to walk in."

"Uh, sure. We parked outside the band room."

"Great, I'll be out in a minute, kay? Need to talk to Mrs. T." She grabs my arm before I can follow Roy.

"Hey you. I need to talk at you," she says severely.

Her determined scary-eyes are not a good sign. This will not be pleasant. I try to get out of it: "I'm not Mrs. T...want me to get her for you?" I try to inject some transparent enthusiasm in my voice. Even though I'm gay, I can appreciate that she's a looker -- twenty-five, blonde and blue-eyed, full figure. Ben leers whenever she walks by our table at breakfast. I also have a "crush" on her for the sake of keeping up appearances.

Tara's not fooled by my attempt to escape. "Just listen for a second," she orders. "Roy called me about what happened at lunch. That was out of line. You need to apologize."

See, this is what sucks about having two friends. You get bitched at twice for the same thing. Similar to having two parents -- thank god I don't have to deal with that anymore.

"I already talked to Roy."

"I mean Jesse."

I grimace. I figured that was who she was talking about. "Okay, fine. I'll do it at school tomorrow."

"Tara! That was amazing! You have such a beatiful voice."

What the hell? I look behind me at the horrible familiar voice, and there's Jesse. Is it just me, or do the people in my life have the eeriest timing?

"Jesse!" Tara exclaims, super surprised. "You came! I thought you had a doctor's appointment?" She reaches out to hug him (Tara's a hugger). He does the cheek to cheek, keeping-the-body-away, pat on the back kind of embrace and quickly pulls away, but still hangs on to her hands, which he holds ardently as he stares at her with big sparkles in his eyes.

"It didn't take as long as I thought it would. Tara that was amazing. You gave me chills, I swear!"

Aw, gushing makes him sound so gay.

"I'm so glad you could make it! What did you think of the choir?" She's all teeth right now; Tara loves getting compliments.

"Oh, they sucked." He wrinkles his nose cutely. I want to laugh so bad at the way Tara's eyes bulge in surprise. "But you made up for it. I came back here to ambush you before any of your other adoring fans could." He glances at me. "But I guess someone beat me."

She's ten times as honored, I can tell, even though she tries to look stern. But, after a couple seconds in which I'm positive she's trying to think of something complimentary to say about her fellow choir members (and coming up blank), she settles on a beaming smile and a warm, "Thanks a bunch, hon." She looks around and spots Roy, hesitantly lingering near the doors, not looking this way. So he was in on it; he knew it was just an excuse so she could bitch at me!!

Her smile turns a little mischievious. "Do you want to come to dinner with us?"

"We're going to dinner?" I blurt out. I didn't know this.

Tara's oh-shit expression creates this mean lurch in my stomach.

"I'd love to," Jesse says.

"So would I." I glare pointedly.

"Um...did you talk to Roy?" Tara asks hesitantly. "Did he say anything to you about...anything?" Her trying to be subtle is pathetic.

"Yeah, I told you. We talked. We're fine now."

Her face relaxes in relief. "That's great! I told him it would be fine if he just told you."

I frown. "Told me what?"

"About..." she trails off. "Um. We should probably go. He's waiting for us."

"Wait, Tara!" I say as she loops and arm through mine and an arm through Jesse's and starts to pull us toward Roy. "Tell me what? I don't think we're talking about the same thing here."

"Obviously. And if we're not, then I'm not going to ruin it by telling you."

Roy opens the door for us when we come up.

"Jesse and Matt can come with us to dinner, right?" she asks.

He nods. "Of course." He looks at Jesse. "So you came after all!" His smile makes me frown. "What did you think of Tara?"

"She should be famous."

Roy laughs. "Well, we'd better get going. I still have to stop for gas."

He parks next to the pump and Tara chatters about the concert while he fills up. ("And then Chauncy turned up in the wrong shirt so Mrs. T was freaking out trying to find a spare that would fit him...") Roy sticks his head through the open window.

"Alright, I'll be right back."

"Roy?" Tara asks sweetly, cutting off midsentence.

He looks wary. "Yeah?"

"Can you buy me donuts? Pretty please?" She pouts.

"We're going to dinner in ten minutes!" he laughs.

"Please?" Her pout gets even more pitiful. He sighs and shakes his head; so weak!

"Fine, but just because you sang so well." Weak, weak.

She sqeals gleefully and gets out of the car to go inside with him. I subtly undo my seatbelt, but she turns back and says, "You'd better not steal my seat, Mattie."

"Of course I wouldn't!" Innocent shock, that's it.

She raises her eyebrows and turns to Jesse, sitting next to me in the back seat. "Don't let him, Jesse. Guard it with your soul."

He smiles. "Sure."

She shoots another warning look at me before getting out and jogging to catch up with Roy. She walks surprising well in those heels.

It won't work if I get out of the car and walk around to the passenger side: she'll see and come right out. I lift up my leg to climb into the front, trying to stay low -- just a precaution, because Roy's windows are tinted.

I feel a restraining hand on my arm. "What are you doing?"

I jerk it away as if scalded. "Stealing her seat." Duh.

When I get one foot through and get up to step over, I feel arms around my waist, and I'm dragged back. I land heavily and crack my head against the backseat window. Jesse "oofs." I landed on him.

"What the fuck?" I cradle the back of my head. OW.

"I promised," he groans in pain. I think I elbowed him in the stomach.

"Regret it yet?" I glare, and, just for good measure, accidentally grab his hair as leverage to get up. His gorgeous golden hair. I swear I mean it maliciously.

He doesn't have to moan.

I freeze, shocked, my eyes on his face and wide as hell. He doesn't see -- his eyes are closed, tensed slightly in pain, his head pulled back to follow the pressure of my hand yanking on his soft golden hair. His lips are parted.

My stomach turns to mush. Warm butterfly mush.

Fuck. I'm sitting on his lap, too. I scramble away, to the other side of the side, as far as possible.

How could I forget how fucking hot he is? Didn't I tell myself to be on guard? Huh? Fuck.

When he opens his eyes, they're so intense: angry and heated. Hot. "What was that for?" he demands.

I shake my head, incapable of speech. I can't stop staring. He bites his lip when he rubs gingerly at his stomach, and I feel my face burn, my mouth gaping. I should look away. I should look away now.

"What?" he asks. His angel's mouth is turned up at one corner. It's sexy. I hate it.

Look away.

I stare sullenly out the window. I hope my blush doesn't show -- I have the sort of skin that has only betrayed me twice in my lifetime, but it's burning right now, especially my ears, and I'm worried.

I see Roy and Tara come out of the store. She's jumping around Roy, trying to get at the little plastic bag he's holding to high for her to reach.

"Mattie?" His voice makes me shiver.

"There's Roy," I announce. It comes out weird; I clear my throat. "Thank god. I'm fucking starving."

"So am I." My vision swims with heat for a second. His voice is low for some reason. Husky. Makes me want to jump him. I'm leaning forward, arms crossed over my lap.

Roy thankfully opens his door, and I hear Tara whine, "Why can't I have them now?"

"You said you wanted donuts, you didn't say you wanted to eat them. You'll ruin your appetite."

"You are so unfair!" she huffs, and storms around the car. She slams her door with more force than necessary.

Roy feels bad and hands her the bag as soon as she has her seatbelt on. "I was just teasing," he apologizes.

She pounces on the donuts and rips the box open. She shoots him a smug smile. "I know."

I love that Roy can laugh at himself. He starts the car and pulls away. I steal a glance at Jesse. He's looking at me. He looks...contemplative. Oh fuck, what's he thinking?

I clear my throat. "I'm actually not feeling too great. Can you drop me off at home." It's not a question.

I remember I told Jesse I was starving. Fuck. I shoot him another glance. His grin is sly, like he knows something.

Tara turns around. "You sure?" she asks, concerned. But, fuck me if there's not relief there too. I'm reminded she didn't want me to come in the first place, and I can't help wondering why not. It can't be because of Jesse -- I promised I would apologize.

She asked if I talked to Roy. Maybe it's something about him.

But why would she look so uneasy about me going to dinner with them?

Them.

My mind screeches to a halt as I realize what it is I've been missing.

They're together.

I feel sick for real now.

I nod. "Yeah."

Roy drops me off in front of my house on their way to Applebee's. I get out quickly and go around the back of the car.

I don't look as the car pulls away, but, somehow I can just feel him watching me.

I messed up last chapter and said it was Thursday, so note, please, that this is Wednesday. It's been quite a while, but please take comfort in the knowledge that I now have my internet back. Thanks for sticking with me.