Page 96 of Cross the Line

“Eat,” Riley repeats. “Did you have anything yet? I’m starving. You hungry, Tony?”

“Call me Tony again, and you can eat my fist,” Antonio snarks.

Riley cackles. “So spicy.”

The panic in Alec slowly fades as he watches Antonio and Riley continue to bicker over food and nicknames. Realistically he knows this isn’t over, that they’re probably going to end up finishing this conversation at some point, but for now his friends are going to let it end, just like his thing with Theo ended.

Peripherally Alec is aware he should be happy, but all he can muster is a gnawing sense of emptiness. He got the one thing he always dreamed of—a chance with the man he loves—so why does the Theo-shaped hole in his heart feel bigger than ever?

“Remind me why we majored in business again?” Alec groans, collapsing facedown on his bed. His backpack was tossed to the floor seconds before, his microeconomics and financial planning textbooks heavy enough to knock down a goddamn brick wall. Two back-to-back seminar classes, followed by a brutal three hour practice means Alec doesn’t even want to look at his syllabus, let alone to start the reading.

“Because it’s what everyone else on the team is majoring in,” Antonio reminds him. Which is true. Business is the number one major for at least half the college athletes he knows. “Besides, once we get scouted we won’t need the degree anyway, so what we majored in won’t really matter.”

Alec shoves his face into the mattress, biting his tongue. He hasn’t told anyone he doesn’t think he wants to get scouted. Hell, he doesn’t even have the heart to tell Antonio how much he hates his major. More fucking secrets.

Turning his face from the mattress to take in a ragged breath, he tries to smile at Antonio but it feels like more of a grimace.

“We can study together, Alec. It'll be fine. I promise.”

“Fine,” he says, because Antonio is actually competent at this stupid business shit and also doesn’t have ADHD. Unlike Alec, he also doesn’t want to run into the sun every time someone mentions stats or accounting. Everything to do with his major makes Alec want to curl into a ball and scream because he hates it so much. He thought taking all introductory classes his first few years would make the adjustment easier, and it had for a time. Only now Alec’s stuck with the hardest classes for his last year in a major he loathes, while facing a future he doesn’t want.

He’s not sure he’s going to survive his senior year.

“Earth to Alec.” Antonio snaps his fingers. “You look like you saw La Llorona. What’s up?”

What’s up, is that it’s only been one day and Alec already misses Theo. What’s up is that he’s one day into the semester and his classes are already filling him with dread. What’s up is that the new season has barely started and his body is already exhausted. What’s up is everything feels out of Alec’s control.

“Probably just hungry,” Alec tries, relieved when Antonio easily accepts the lie.

“I had lunch in the cafeteria, but it wasn’t that good. You wanna make us chilaquiles?”

Alec is so tired he doesn’t want to move, but his brain didn’t get that memo, going a mile a minute with worst-case scenarios and intrusive thoughts. He isn’t sure he has the energy for cooking, but at least it’s better than studying.

“Fine,” Alec says, dragging himself onto his hands and knees. “But you’re doing the cleaning if I cook.”

Antonio whistles happily. “Don’t tell my mom or she’ll disown me, but I think your chilaquiles are better than hers.”

“Of course they are. My abuelita taught me.” Alec swings his legs over the bed, his eyes drawn to the corner where Theo’s sweater is draped over the back of his desk chair.

“Have you talked to him?” Antonio asks.

It’s the first time he’s mentioned it since Alec stumbled home yesterday morning wearing Theo’s clothes and he’s honestly surprised Antonio lasted so long.

“No. My phone was in the mailbox this morning, along with my clothes.” Alec swallows, thinking of the note that had been tucked inside. I’m sorry, Alexander.

The note is folded up, hidden in his sock drawer. He’s not sure why he’s hiding it. Yes, you are, a little voice whispers. He’s hiding it because he knows he’s being stupid and reading too much into it. He doesn’t need his friends to be the voice of reason or judge him for getting naked with someone who doesn’t share his feelings. He already knows he's pathetic and while neither Riley nor Antonio would say that to his face, it would be written in their pitying eyes, and he can’t handle that.

“We could order in,” Antonio offers, clearly not sure what to make of Alec’s prolonged silence, always looking for an excuse to break his own nutritionist derived meal plan. “You know, if you’re not up to cooking. My treat.”

“No,” Alec says with a firm shake of his head. “I can cook.”

Thoughts of Theo plague Alec’s mind as they both head to the kitchen, the sounds of the guys playing video games and joking fading into the background. He’s made this meal often enough that he can do it without thinking, which is exactly the problem. With his mind free to dwell on Theo, cooking offers none of the mindless distraction he’d hoped.

The kitchen fills with the savory scent of simmering guajillo chiles and roma tomatoes, followed by fried tortillas, but there is no comfort in the familiar smells. Not only because Alec can’t even eat this on his stupid fucking nutrition plan, but because it conjures memories of Theo’s smile as they’d shared tacos on his birthday. The thought of one smile, just for him, makes Alec think of another, and now there are far too many moments twisted up with memories of Theo in knots too tangled to unwind.

If anyone should be mad it’s Alec, except he’s not. He can’t be. He knows exactly why Theo did what he did. Alec knows he won’t ever be more important than Jason, and he’s made his peace with that. Mostly. It would be unfair to be angry at Theo, because he’s unable to give something Alec never admitted he wanted. So no, Alec isn’t mad at Theo. Hurt, yes. Achingly, desperately and painfully so. It’s the kind of hurt that makes sitting through lectures or running practice drills feel like torture, because it seems so unfair that life goes on as normal while Alec’s heart is in a million pieces.

Inevitably, his thoughts drift to the text message he sent Theo this morning as soon as he got his phone back. It was nothing more than a stupid text teasing him about a gross new flavor of LaCroix he saw in the dining hall last night, a feeble attempt to pretend things could go back to the way they’d been before. He knew he couldn’t have Theo as a lover, but he’d at least wanted him back as a friend. Only it’s been nine hours and Theo hasn’t replied, and a part of Alec suspects that maybe he isn’t going to. Jason showing up made things too real for Theo, and painful as it is, he’s not at all surprised by the sharp sting of Theo’s actions.

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