worry.
“He wanted to own up, to confess who he really is. It’s a part of the healing process.”
“Fuck that! Don’t tell me this has to do with coming out of the closet, Evan.” Evan may have been doing a good thing teaching those free classes every week to young homosexual men, but he went too far now. The world as a whole wasn’t ready to embrace everyone that was different than the masses. Evan threw Cal to the sharks by fueling him with empty dreams and hopes.
“He wanted to confront some friends at school that had been bothering him. Shit, this isn’t good.” Evan’s face fell, and he swallowed hard.
“You think?” He pushed Evan back and began pacing, wondering where Cal could be. “Do you know where he went?”
“All I know is he stayed at the college after I left.”
In a burst of realization, Waylon knew Cal would confront Steph. She’d tormented him way too long. He hated seeing Cal ’s sweet face contorted with shame after passing her in the hall. She always had a rude comment for him, slowly tearing him down one word at a time. But where Steph was, his friends on the football team were. Those bastards were a hard-ass crew with little tolerance for anyone outside their circle. They worshiped Waylon, but even the status of being Waylon’s best friend wouldn’t save him if he admitted to being gay.
“Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve filled Cal ’s head so full of your peace and love bullshit that he probably got himself killed!”
Evan covered his ears and walked away. “Don’t fucking blame me. I love him, too!”
“You don’t love him! All you care about is his cock.”
The fist came out of nowhere, knocking Waylon back into the coffee table. He fell back, the glass top shattering into thick bits. “Get up you motherfucker!”
Waylon rolled himself up to his feet and barreled forward like he’d been trained in their tackling exercises. Both men ended up in a heavy heap at the other end of the room, the drywall dented by the weight of their bodies colliding. Waylon straddled Evan, pulling his fist back, but stopping. Evan panted, his hair disheveled. His eyes were beautiful, and he had to admit that he had feelings, deep feelings, for his teacher. That didn’t make him any less angry that he’d put stupid thoughts into Cal ’s head, but he couldn’t hit him. He dropped his arm.
“I do love him,” Evan whispered. “I love you, too, Waylon. You think I only care about sex? I’ve gone over five years without so much as a date. It’s been lonely. Once I had you both in my life, I guess I was overly excited. That doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
Waylon ran his hand through Evan’s hair, and then pulled him up to a stand, broken glass falling to the carpet. After brushing themselves off and catching their breath, he tried to focus. “What should we do?”
Mr. Hawke, the intelligent teacher that taught his history class every day, emerged. His face hardened as he picked up the cordless and called information. When he asked for the local hospital, Waylon’s stomach knotted painfully.
“Well?”
“Good news, we’ve found him.” Waylon sighed, slouching forward from the rush of relief. “Bad news, he’s unconscious and badly beat up. The janitor found him and called 911.”
“I’ll kill them all!” He rammed his fist through the drywall, wishing it were the faces of his so-called friends.
“Just stop with the macho bullshit for two minutes. We’ve got to get down there. I’ll drive.”
* * * *
Waylon stepped from behind the drawn, mint green curtains pulled around Cal ’s bed. He didn’t look angry, though he should be. Cal had been a fool. To think he could reform a group of jocks with nice words and honesty was a joke. Waylon had been right. It was safer to keep their private life private. After he entered, Evan followed.
“Hey, babe, how you feeling?” asked Waylon.
“I’ve been better.” His best friend surveyed the tube coming
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