Page 18 of Man On

"I didn’t know it was like that," I say. "I just thought he was weird."

"Oh, he's weird alright, almost as weird as you. Difference is, he has a good reason."

He gives me a bear hug, and despite being taller than him, I feel like a child in his arms.

We jump at the thud outside the door before Lane pushes into the room. He gives me a suspicious look before nodding politely at my father and dropping a few boxes on the kitchen counter.

"I think that's everything," he says.

My dad nods and gives him a fatherly pat on the shoulder. When we walk him out, he pulls each of us into a hug and tells us he's proud. I don't even have it in me to be jealous when he takes Lane aside and speaks to him quietly, giving him a stiff hug and pat on the back. Knowing that Lane’s been more stressed than usual puts things in perspective.

I have to keep reminding myself of that when Lane and I stand side by side and wave as my dad gets into his truck and drives away. As soon as he's out of sight, swallowed by the traffic moving in and out of the athletic dorm parking lot, Lane drops his smile and gives me an angry glare before stomping inside.

When I make it back to the dorm, he's unpacking the kitchen. I move to the sitting room to set up the TV and game console, but Lane’s glare burns into the back of my head the entire time.

"What is your problem?" I blurt.

Maybe I should care more that his childhood bullshit got aired out on national TV. And yeah, that sucks that he grew up in a freak show. But his life has been fucking perfect for over four years now. He has no reason to be so pissy today.

"You," he spits out. "You're my problem."

"I've done literally nothing to you."

"Today."

"What?"

"You've done nothing to me today. How long is that going to last, Noah? I meant what I said. That isn't happening here."

"I haven't looked at you twice since graduation, and you know it. In fact, that's probably why you're wound so tight right now. What's wrong, little brother? You have blue balls because you can't get off without me telling you what to do?"

"W-what? No!"

"I've been nothing but nice to you since the raid, dude. And patient as fuck, because I know you're going through some shit." He blanches at the mention of it, and it makes me irrationally angry to see him upset. I’m the only one allowed to upset him. "You told me to stop, so I stopped. I'm not some kind of creep predator. I only did it because you liked it. Because you needed it. If you think that any of that did anything for me, you're dumber and gayer than I thought you were."

“I’m. Not. Gay,” he says through clenched teeth, seething.

“I don’t fucking care!” I feel bad for pulling the gay card, but the more I try to rationalize my behavior, the worse it sounds. It’s time to deflect and get away from here. “We’re barely an hour into being roommates, and I’m already sick of your bullshit,” I say, putting the electronics down and backing away. "I'm going to unpack my room so you don't have to look at me not being an asshole."

A little over half an hour later, there's a tap at the door before Lane pokes his head inside my room.

"You care if I put some of my books on the shelves out here?"

No wonder those boxes were so fucking heavy. I should have realized he’d bring his entire library.

"No, I don't care," I tell him, and return to setting up the desk that's set into its own little alcove of the bedroom.

"She got us the same comforter set," Lane says, nodding at my bed with his chin. He looks a little embarrassed at the fuzzy soccer ball throw pillow with a blue N stitched onto it that I'm pretty sure she stitched herself.

His mom made sure we have everything we need for what is essentially our first apartment, down to couch covers so we could make the space our own. Everything is our school colors of black and white, and there are an embarrassing number of soccer balls on everything, but I kind of love it.

"Hannah is pretty fucking fantastic," I say. For some reason, I want him to know how much his mother means to me. She's never treated me like anything other than a son and she’s been the only mom I've ever had. If not for knowing she had a long-lost kid already, I probably would have called her mom, but it never felt like my place. Odd, considering she’s spent more time being my mom than his.

He nods and shuffles his feet a bit, still standing in the doorway. "Uh, Scott is pretty great, too. Quiet."

"He's always been like that. It's not you or anything."

"It doesn’t bother me. I appreciate it, actually. Makes me more comfortable.”

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