Page 66 of Ours
“Thanks, Mom. Love you.”
Cory ended the call and sat on a bench outside of the restaurant. He felt like crying or screaming or even laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. Instead, he stood up and walked inside. French fries helped everything.
“Where is he?” Nic stormed into the locker room, a man on a mission.
“Uh … who?” The poor confused JV football player looked around nervously.
“Steve,” Nic spat out. “Where is that son of a bitch?”
“Aww, what’s wrong Nicky? Your boyfriend too busy?” Steve taunted as he walked in from the showers. “Sorry, man. Not into dudes.”
“Shut the fuck up, you lying sack of shit.” Nic tore across the locker room and grabbed Steve by the shoulders, slamming him into the lockers behind him.
“Woah, man, relax.” Steve held his hands up in feigned innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m going to knock your fucking teeth in.”
“But Nic,” Steve whispered low enough so that only Nic could hear him. “We both know I’m not lying. I saw you and that fag walking out of the garage together looking very, very cozy.”
Nic’s face paled slightly, though the look of rage never left it. Fuck. Hedidsee them.
“Yeah, thought so,” Steve sneered, still whispering. “Go ahead and kick my ass, Herrera. Really makes it look like you got nothing to hide.”
“Dude.” Nic felt a hand on his shoulder.
It was Taylor. He said nothing else, but that was enough. Nic looked around the locker room. Everyone was staring at him and Steve.Fuck.Nic let go of Steve and punched the locker behind him in anger before storming back out of the locker room wordlessly.
“What the fuck was his problem?” Steve asked no one in particular, not even bothering to hide the smirk on his face.
Cory couldn’t stop checking his phone. He wasn’t sure why—even if Derekhadtexted him, he didn’t want to talk to him. He was still too angry. And hurt. And sad.Ugh.After his mom had picked him up, she had to head to work, having picked up a night shift at the warehouse. Not long after she left, it started raining—a storm off the coast would be sending them bands of rain all night. That left Cory alone with just the rain and his thoughts to keep him company. And the TV.
After setting his phone down for what felt like the hundredth time, Cory went to the kitchen to rustle up something for dinner. Cory eyed the leftovers in the fridge—cold spaghetti and meatballs—before deciding the day’s events called for something a little more comforting.Mac and cheese it is!
After setting a pot of water to boil, Cory walked out to the living room and turned on the TV, flipping through the streaming apps until he found something funny and mindless to watch while he waited.Schitt’s Creekre-runs seemed like just the thing he needed. Anything to take his mind off of the bullshit that was his day.
Eventually, Cory returned to the kitchen to add noodles to the now boiling water. Without the TV to distract him, his mind began to wander, always bringing him back to Derek. He kept replaying the conversation in the car over and over in his head. It just turned so quickly—Cory knew it wasn’t going to be an easy talk, but when he was actually saying those things out loud, when he actually thought about the way things had gone, it just made himangry. And it was like Derek wasn’t even listening to him. He just immediately got defensive.Was I too harsh?
Cory sighed as he drained the pasta. No. He said what needed to be said. It wasn’t his fault that Derek didn’t like hearing it. Hadn’t he always told Cory he needed to stand up for himself more? Shaking the thoughts from his head, Cory finished making his dinner, mixing in the orange cheese powder as hewalked back out to the living room. No one said comfort food had to be good for you.
For the next half-hour, it was just Cory, his food, and the TV. Cory finished eating just as an episode ended and went to the kitchen to throw his bowl in the sink before the next one started. He was just about to sit back down when someone knocked on the door. That was strange. Cory moved to the door and peered through the peephole. It was Nic.
“Nic?” Cory questioned as he opened the door. The football player looked like a drowned rat, like he’d been walking around in the rain all night. “What are you doing here?”
“Cory!” Nic offered a big smile. “I knew you’d answer for me!”
Nic stumbled in the doorway past Cory, who had an inkling of what was going on. Nic was drunk.Verydrunk. And wet. But why? And why was he here?
“Are you okay?” Cory followed as Nic moved into the living room, almost tripping over himself as he tried to sit on the couch. “You are very drunk.”
“Yes. No. Maybe.” Nic stared at his feet. “I dunno.”
“Yes, you’re okay, or yes, you’re drunk?” Cory wasn’t sure why he asked. He knew the answer to both.
“Yes ’mdrunk. No ’mnot okay.” Nic looked at, then cradled, his right hand for a moment. “Oww.”
“What’s wrong with your hand?” Cory held the offending limb gently. The skin was broken in a few places, and it looked bruised.
“Got angry. Punched a locker.” Nic wiggled his fingers slightly. “Hurts. But the rum helped.”
