Page 40 of Choke Up

CHAPTER 15

GABE

"What are you doing here?"

My voice is rough from sleep, and probably a little from nerves. He's not supposed to be here. They aren't supposed to be back for two more days. I had two more days to figure out what weeks of overthinking couldn't accomplish.

He doesn't answer me. Only leans against the door. His quiet stillness and the dark of the room makes me wonder if my brain is playing tricks on me. It wouldn't be the first time I woke up reaching for him, hoping whatever dream I'd been pulled out of was real. Usually, I just wake up sweaty and sticky and wanting, but this time I can feel his presence instead of empty nothing. I can smell him.

"Ellis?" I croak out, sitting up to get a better look at the faceless shadow, hiding behind a beam of light peeking through my blinds. The bitter chill in the air helps clear some of the fog of sleep.

Finally, he steps forward, just enough that the dim light illuminates the pale skin of his face. His dark jeans and hoodie, and the contrast of his dark hair, make him look like a ghost with the way the light is reflecting off his skin. Except that he looks just as haunted as me. Or maybe it's just the shadows of the room converging beneath his sad eyes. I can hope, but I know better.

The moment he said my name, the moment I knew for sure that he knew my secret, I felt more fear than I ever have in my life. More fear than the day Elliot almost caught us in the equipment room. More fear than the time I almost got hit by a car riding my bike to school. More fear even than getting the call that my mother was in the hospital again.

After I got back to campus, I couldn’t bear to be around people. I've spent the past several weeks playing sick. I told my teachers I had mono and continued keeping up with my classes virtually. If they weren't all easy classes, I would have failed them. I managed a B average by the skin of my teeth and because the teachers pitied me. When I showed up for the final exams, my sick excuse looked legit, considering the weight I've lost, the paleness of my skin, and the dark circles under my eyes.

I'm just so tired, although I've done nothing but lie around the past couple of weeks. Knowing they’ll be back soon set a fire under my ass. The anxiety and fear of seeing them has made it impossible to sleep, so I’ve been funneling all my nervous energy into distracting myself. I cleaned the dorm spotless, which it sorely needed after weeks of sulking around, unwashed and uncaring about my surroundings.

I'm pathetic. And too afraid to face him. But now he's here, watching me with those searching eyes, desperate for answers or something to take away his pain.

I know how bad he's hurting, or at least I think I do. I feel like I'm being shredded from the inside out. I'm pissed, and every flare of anger is like a sharp knife through my chest. When the anger fades, there's an unrelenting dull ache. The anger hurts more, but it's easier to ride out than the ache, which never seems to go away.

His eyes tell me his pain is even worse than mine. After all, he's been in love with me for a lot longer than I've been obsessed with him. The thought sends another stab of anger through me.

"We can't," I say sternly, doing my best not to betray any weakness. "This can't happen."

They're the only words I've said to him in weeks, and they're all I can spit out now. It was the only response I gave him before blocking his number and deleting my Howler profile. I'm aware of how cruel and cowardly it was to not just avoid him, but to completely cut him off. I look away from him, too ashamed to hold his gaze. I turn and drop my legs over the side of the bed, slumping over to rest my elbows on my knees and rake my fingers through my hair, which has grown too long during the break. At least it's clean today. Digging my palms into my eyes, I sigh, but it comes out more like a growl. Instead of apologizing for my gruffness, I let him think I'm angry. Annoyed. Disgusted.

"Is it because of my brother?" Ellis whispers.

The pain in his voice is a gut punch. It's a struggle not to look at him, but I know he'll read my lies like a book. Instead, I keep my dismissive demeanor and plunge the knife a little deeper into both of us.

"That's part of it," I say, keeping my eyes on the ground in front of me.

There's a stretch of silence that I sink into, panicking at how cornered I feel. Avoidance hasn't helped me one bit over the break, but it's my default coping mechanism when I can't just hit something.

"I'm not gay, Ellis," I spit out.

It's the truth. Or at least I think it is. I'm not attracted to men. I do, however, find most women attractive. I like kissing and touching and fucking women. I've been doing it since I was fourteen and never had any problems.

Until him.

I don't know what's wrong with me, or what it is about him. It's probably just some kind of stupid need for love and attention, because he's always looked at me like he worships me. I always thought he was looking at me the same way he looked at Elliot. It wasn’t until junior year that I started paying more attention. That’s when I noticed how he looked at me, like I was something special. And I fucking liked it. I still do. Hell, I love it. I want to be everything to him. I want his attention on me. I want him to want me and love me the most out of anyone.

But I can't give it back to him. And we can't be together.

His haunted look turns confused. "But you?—"

"I did it because I felt sorry for you." The lie tastes like acid on my tongue. I swallow it and it burns on the way down, settling in my already roiling stomach.

"No," he whispers, disbelieving. He opens his mouth to point out all the obvious signs that I'm full of shit, but I cut him off with more cruelty.

"I only joined Howler to protect you," I say. That at least has a touch of truth to it. It was a mixture of protectiveness and possessiveness that had me making that profile. "And then I went along with it because I didn't want you to feel rejected. I felt bad. The rest was?—"

"You're full of shit, Gabe,” he snaps. Despite not shouting, it's the first time he's spoken above a whisper since coming into my room. His deep voice sounds sultry to me, even through the sharp bite of his tone. He's pissed.

Ellis steps forward until I can see the tips of his black socks infiltrating the patch of floor I've been staring at. My eyes vibrate with the need to see him. I want to trace my gaze over every inch of his body, up his slim legs and over the curve of his hip, along his slim waist and defined chest, up his throat and jawline, before finally settling on those bright blue orbs. If I look, I won't be able to control myself. I've never gotten the chance to really look into his eyes, to see his pupils dilate while I touch him or say all the things he likes to hear. And I never will.

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