Page 66 of Man On

It’s not like I haven’t considered talking to Danny, not about everything, but maybe just to ask questions about how he balances his sexuality with his beliefs. But I feel like asking would only raise more suspicions, and he already suspects. Which is another thing I want to know—why is he suspicious? It’s not like I’m walking around in skin tight rainbow t-shirts like the one he’s wearing now, that has a soccer ball flying through the air, with a rainbow trailing off like a comet.

"Where do you get these shirts?" Noah asks as he comes over to us. He's looking at Danny's chest like it offends him.

Thankfully, Danny either doesn't notice, or doesn't care about Noah's judgment. I suspect it's more option two. He takes it all in stride, shrugging and telling us where he gets the shirt, like it's no big deal that Noah is a douche canoe.

"My mom finds them for me. I feel like every time I go home, she has a new one for me."

"That's cool," Noah says. "Does she not know what size you wear?"

Peters snorts, and I slap my palm over my face and groan. I want to make a comment about his equally tight pants, but I don't want to point out that I noticed.

"Who invited you?" I say, swatting him on the back of the shoulder.

"Is that any way to treat your favorite brother?”

"You are not my brother," I say, because even though these guys don’t know we've tasted each other's cum, I know. I know, and I cannot let that one simple thing go unchecked.

"You two have the weirdest relationship," Danny says, but he's laughing.

“Yo, the rain seems to be holding off. Let’s walk down to Randy’s and get pizza,” one of the guys suggests, and there’s an enthusiastic response among the group. It looks like most of the guys are going, but I hang back.

“Come on, big guy,” Danny says, grabbing my arm to encourage me to follow him. “You promised to take me to get taco pizza the first chance we got. Looks like our chance for a pizza date has arrived.”

Noah makes a weird sound and grinds his jaw. Danny winks at me. I look around to see if anyone has noticed this awkward exchange, but thankfully mostly everyone is filing out the door.

Everyone except the three of us, and Miah.

“Dude, did you get your period or something? Because you’re a fucking grouch lately,” he says to Noah. “I mean, like, no offense, but I think your stepbrother might be a bad influence.”

“I’ve got a fucking bone to pick with you,” Noah says.

Danny and I look at each other and nod, silently agreeing that we want no part in their squabble, and start walking towards the door.

“Well, what is it, then?” Miah snarks behind us. I turn around and see that he and Noah are following us out of the dorm building.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Noah says irritably, walking fast to catch up with us.

I have to smile at his ridiculousness. He’s so sensitive about me being around Danny, it almost smells like jealousy. He fits himself in between us, and eventually I pull back just to get some space from how ridiculous he’s being. So now I’m walking behind him, with Miah behind me, eyes glued to his phone. I’m using all of my energy pretending not to look at Noah’s ass in those skinny jeans he’s wearing. He looks like a skater boy with his unlaced Converse sneakers, tight black jeans, and a faded black shirt with the mouth from The Rocky Horror Picture Show on it. His hair, which he’s been pulling into a ridiculous half-ponytail at the top of his head, is loose and damp, like he just got out of the shower. It’s appealing, and I want to get closer to him so I can smell his body wash. I manage to control myself, mostly because I’m nervous about being around him in public.

At some point, Danny pulls back to walk with me, and Noah somehow ends up behind us, obviously listening to our conversation. I stick out a foot to trip him as we make our way inside the restaurant, but he manages to catch himself. Danny and I snicker, and the way he narrows his eyes just makes me laugh harder.

As much as I don’t want anyone else to think there’s anything happening between me and Danny, I’m finding it highly amusing to tease Noah with the possibility. I don’t know why he cares, but he clearly does.

Noah sits at the very end of the table, probably expecting me to sit apart from everyone like I have been recently. Just to be contrary, I sit right in the middle of everyone. He stares daggers at me, and I laugh all over again. After a few moments of watching me laugh, he starts too. And I know we're both thinking the same thing—we’ve somehow switched. He's always the one in the middle, socializing with friends or teammates, and I'm usually the one sitting in the corner being antisocial.

The guys watch us, interrupting their conversations to stare at us while we crack up. Miah catches on and starts laughing, too. He points at me and then Noah.

"See, man? I told you. You’re in full broody Lane mode.”

"I am not broody," I say defensively.

Everyone at the table stares at me. Noah rolls his lips in to keep from laughing again, but he can't hold it in. Pretty soon we're all laughing, and Noah moves into the seat next to Miah. We order several taco pizzas to share, and it's the best night I've had in a long time. I've had friends over the years, but nothing like this. I've always sat back and watched Noah laugh and enjoy his life, awkwardly obsessing over the way he interacts with people and how he's so carefree. I've envied his ability to enjoy simple things like this—people, food, relationships, life.

My world has been flipped upside down so many times, I think I've had a hard time finding my footing and trusting that things won't change again. I struggle to trust people, even when they prove themselves, like my mom. I don't even trust myself.

The number of times the world has flipped in just the last forty-eight hours has kept me from gaining any equilibrium. And I could be spiraling. I could sink into a haze of shame, regret, guilt, and fear. I am afraid. Of everything that's happening. With Noah. With the case against the leaders of Deliverance. With my past being ripped open for everyone to see.

Mom wants to talk when they come visit for the game, and I promised we would. But I don't know how to talk about these things. I don't want to talk about them, not with her or the lawyer. I don't even talk about them with my therapist, whom I've continued to reschedule since moving into the dorm with Noah.

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