Page 14 of Stopped

Compulsively, I checked the time again. Five o’clock was creeping ever closer and I grew more excited with every passing minute. The promise of Will showing up to offer his support provided enough positive nervousness to offset the anxiety. We’d been texting more and more frequently every day. The last three nights were marked by hours-long conversations that bled into early mornings. Each time we went to say goodbye, he sounded so utterly despondent, I almost considered staying on the line until he fell asleep.

When five o’clock became half past five, the wariness and apprehension returned with a vengeance. I had no reason to believe he would flake out and refuse to show, but my reactive brain was convinced I'd been played for a fool yet again. There was most likely a perfectly good explanation. After all, he had a very serious and incredibly unpredictable job. I told myself over and over again to be patient and give him the benefit of the doubt. The seed of doubt took root nevertheless.

Five-thirty became six, and that’s when I finally had so much else to worry about, I couldn't let myself stress on whether he would or wouldn't show up. Everywhere I turned, someone vied for my attention. With each question, I simultaneously grew more confident in my skills and more grateful for Brent’s help with research, talking points, and public speaking skills. I certainly hadn't known how beneficial it would be to have a history teacher with a fondness for studying politics as a friend.

Nearly half an hour into the mixer, a warm hand landed on the small of my back and drew a startled gasp from my lips. My eyes darted over my shoulder and the tension I'd been carrying unspooled in a flash as Will’s dimpled, albeit exhausted, smile met my gaze.

“Hey. Sorry I'm late.” His low voice curled around the base of my spine.

“Everything okay?” I scanned his features and my worry grew. A faint discoloration at the ridge of his cheekbone beneath his left eye caught my attention for a beat too long, causing him to avert his face with a shrug.

“Yup. Just been busy.”

I excused myself from the people loitering nearby and captured Will’s hand in my grip to tug him to a quieter spot in the cavernous event hall. The lighting was no better, but face-to-face, it became apparent there was a bruise under the pale skin.

“Hey, talk to me. I can tell something has been going on.” I kept my hold on his hand and rested my other palm on the center of his chest. “No matter how many years have passed, I still know all your tells, Will.”

His shoulders sagged and I didn't miss the way he leaned into my touch without realizing it. “I wasn't going to say anything. You don't need my shit on top of all this.”

“William Doherty… this isn't how we start off a… friendship.” The word relationship was right on the tip of my tongue, but I shifted gears at the last second. Now wasn't the time.

“Friendship. Right.” His eyes searched my face and the liquid honey of them poured straight into my chest cavity and infused it with sticky sweet warmth. He licked his lips almost compulsively before continuing. “It's my dad. He’s been… struggling.”

My eyebrows shot to my hairline. Despite the length of our friendship, I barely knew the man for how little I'd interactedwith him. There had always been a distance between Will and his father. I'd overheard enough of the man’s ranting and raving on the few occasions we did cross paths to know that he wasn't exactly the most open-minded or tender of people. I slid my hand from Will’s chest to brush my fingertips over the discoloration on his cheekbone.

“Don't tell anyone. I don't need the town gossiping.” To further illustrate his point, he leaned into my space and lowered his voice to a whisper. “He’s got early onset dementia. I needed to head home so my uncle could run out and handle some stuff. He’s been staying with us at the house until… until something opens up at a home.”

“Oh, God. Will, I'm so sorry.” Reservations be damned, I pulled him into a hug and cradled his head against my shoulder. “Did you need to go? Please don't feel obligated to stay—”

“No. Hell, no. I need tonight. I need this.” His arms tightened around my waist in an instant. “My uncle has it under control. I need this.”

I held him close for a lot longer than most people would embrace. Mostfriends. Screw friendship, though. This went beyond such trivial labels and grew deeper with each moment we remained fused together. He really did need this. Turns out, I did too.

Our intimate moment was disrupted by a group of guys I remembered from high school. Will’s friends and I had always gotten along, but I hadn't ever been as close with them as I was with him. Knowing how he was struggling, it lightened my heart to see this supportive group of people flocking with all their intensity. Josh was the only one we hadn't gone to school with, but I recognized him from around town.

“Oh, shit. It worked!” Benjamin Tully cheered and looped an arm around Will’s neck. “This is awesome. Sup Elijah?”

“Hey, Benji. Hey, guys.” I awkwardly waved with a breathy laugh. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

Tony reached out to fist bump as Cam and Dennis waved from the sidelines. Josh headed straight toward Will and gave him a backslapping hug. They exchanged a whispered conversation I couldn't hear over the chatter from the rest of the guys, but judging by Will’s tense smile and subtle nodding, his friend was checking in with him. Thank God he had so many people in his corner.

I waved my own group of friends over from where they were not so subtly staring. Lionel was, naturally, the first to dart through the crowd and attach himself to my side with a hug. Like Josh, he hadn't been part of our high school group of friends, but the town was small enough and he’d been a resident for a few years now, so there wasn't any need for proper introductions.

I kissed Lionel’s forehead and the act caused a fleeting scowl to dance over Will’s features. If he weren't already so on edge and dealing with so much stress, I would have laughed. Lionel, simultaneously catching the same reaction, had no qualms laughing it off.

“Oh goodness. I'm going to need to find a newplatoniccuddle buddy, aren’t I?” He disentangled his arms from around my waist and smoothed his palms over the baggy sweater he wore. “Will, I promise you that I am no threat. He’s all yours.”

“Hey, now,” I laughed as Lionel gave me a gentle push back toward Will.

“Hey, nothing. Please resume adorable hugging and swoony eyes so I can live vicariously through you.” He grinned with a hint of mischief in his eyes. “We can still snuggle when he isn't watching.”

“Is that right?” Will’s smile became more relaxed as the merriment and antics of our combined friend groups eased his tension. “What if I'm a jealous man?”

“You are. I can tell. It's cute.” Lionel pushed a downy lock of hair from his brow. “One day, I'll have a possessive partner of my own.”

His dramatic sigh and theatrics had us all chuckling before conversation resumed. It was so strange to see so many of our graduating class back in one place and picking up as if no time at all had passed. Small towns were strange like that.

Unable to avoid my obligations any longer, I continued to mingle with the people milling around, answering even more questions, often the same ones over and over again as the event continued. I'd practiced my talking points so much, the answers came easy—creating more progressive regulations, supporting small businesses, welcoming tourists and second home owners, lifting up our school and inspiring community involvement across the board. The concepts were simple and not nearly as tradition-altering as many older residents had initially feared, but there was still a sense of unease and resistance amongst that demographic. My nerves were no less tense in that respect. This was going to be a hard election to win and I feared it was simply because of my age, and perhaps to a lesser extent my sexuality and left-leaning political ideals.

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