Page 13 of Daddy's Muse
Then there was that incident back in December…
I think he knew he’d gone too far that time, and he started acting better, as if he was scared I’d report him and his friend for what they’d done, but that only lasted around a week. Then it was back to making fun of every move I made.
I knew better than to take anything from him. I knew better. But today I was hungry and tired and already on edge from the paranoia I’d been having lately about being followed, so I took the damn chips. And now he wanted me to commit academic fraud, as if it were a fair trade, like my integrity meant nothing. LikeImeant nothing.
I kept my head down as I walked faster, hugging my chest like it might keep my ribs from cracking.
I had so badly wanted this place to feel like home. I’d wanted to findmypeople, maybe even a boyfriend…
But here I was again, walking to the library with my heart in my throat, wondering if I’d made a mistake coming here. At least in high school, I had my grandparents to keep me company. If my grandma sensed I was upset, she’d immediately start mixing up some cookie dough. My grandfather would ask me to watch a movie with him, and every time he chuckled under his breath at something funny on the screen, it’d calm me down.
Here, I had no one.
I forced a steady breath as I pushed the library door open, the familiar scent of old books and floor polish settling over me likea blanket. It didn’tfixanything, but it helped. Just enough. The fluorescent lights weren’t kind, and the hum of the ceiling vents reminded me how alone I really was—but this was still one of the few places I felt safe.
I spotted Elijah almost immediately. He was sitting at our usual table near the far window, his long legs stretched out under the desk, a pen tucked behind his ear, and a notebook already open in front of him. He looked up when he saw me, and his face broke into a wide, boyish grin that made something tight in my chest unclench.
“Hey, Colby,” he said, his voice warm and smooth. “Wasn’t sure if you were gonna make it. Thought maybe I’d finally scared you off.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it—quiet, small, but real. I slid into the chair across from him and pulled out my own notebook. “Nah. You’re not that scary.”
“Good. ‘Cause Coach already thinks I’m failing stats on purpose. If I bomb this next quiz, he’s gonna make me run suicides until I throw up.”
I offered a half-smile, not quite sure what suicides were in sports terms, but understanding that they had to be some kind of intense punishment workout. “Then I guess we’d better make sure you pass.”
Elijah was a varsity basketball player—super tall, popular, always surrounded by friends—but he never made me feel like I was less. He asked genuine questions, admitted when he was confused, and even laughed at my stupid jokes. He didn’t even act weird about me being gay. If anything, he seemed oblivious to it in the most refreshing way. I guess it was possible he just didn’t know about it, but it seemed like it was glaringly apparent to others. I wasn’t too sure why that was. I was small, sure, but I knew tons of short guys who were straight.
As we delved into z-scores and standard deviations, I allowed myself to settle into the rhythm of teaching. My voice steadied. My hands stopped shaking. Elijah nodded along, scribbling notes with that determined scowl he always got when something finally started making sense.
“Okay,” I said after walking him through a practice problem, “now you try.”
He took the pen from behind his ear and leaned forward, muttering numbers under his breath, thick brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, he looked up. “Is it… 1.96?”
My grin widened. “Yes! Exactly.”
Elijah let out a low whistle and leaned back in his chair like he’d just been told he won the lottery. “Man, I don’t know how you make this stuff click, but I swear you’re a genius.”
I felt my face warm. I looked down quickly, trying not to smile too much. “I’m really not.”
“Whatever you say,” he replied, nudging my notebook with his pen. “But if I get a C on this quiz, I’m telling everyone I owe it to my stats wizard.”
I rolled my eyes, but it felt good. Easy. For a little while, I wasn’t just the quiet kid from a nowhere town with too much trauma stuffed in his backpack. I was someone who could help. Someone who wasgoodat something. Elijah might never really know me, may never count as a friend, but for an hour each week, he looked at me like I mattered.
And right now, that was enough.
“Let’s aim higher than a C, deal?”
“I dunno, man. Do I get a prize if I get a better grade?”
“A prize? I mean, if it would help… sure. I could buy you a snack?”
Elijah chuckled and shook his head in amusement. “I was thinking more along the lines of getting to hang out with you outside of the library.”
I froze, a little bewildered.
Did he mean that?
Really?
