Plan B (21 page)

I grabbed the gift box from the floor and hurried out the door, closing it silently behind me.

T
HROUGH
the cab ride back to my car and the drive back to campus, I replayed every minute of the night before. From the moment the blindfold was pulled from my eyes and I found Lance standing over me, to the moment I walked out the door of the hotel room and left him sleeping. I plowed through a barrage of emotions from elation to despair and by the time I walked through the door of my dorm, I was physically exhausted and emotionally sick.

Thank God Bo wasn’t there. I shucked out of my clothes and crawled beneath the covers. The sheets were cold, nothing like the warmth of the bed I’d shared with Lance, and I shuddered. I was too tired to think anymore, I’d gone numb, and it took no time at all before I fell into a fitful sleep.

It was hours later when I was shaken awake. “Danny. Dude, where the hell have you been?” Bo’s voice sounded upset and I pulled the covers off my head and rubbed my eyes against the harsh light so I could glare at Bo without my retinas catching fire.

“What do you mean where the hell I’ve been? I’m obviously sleeping, asshole,” I grumbled, pulled the covers back up over my head, and turned my back to him.

Bo ripped the covers from my head. “Hey!”

“You had everyone scared shitless, you fucker! Lance called, panicking, said you had gone missing and weren’t answering your phone.” Bo waved his hands wildly, spittle flying out of his mouth as he continued to rant. “What the hell is, like, wrong with you? We’ve been trying to get ahold of you for, like, two hours!”

“What are you, like a valley girl now?” I grabbed my covers and pulled them back up, but I didn’t cover my head this time. “Well, you’re not the smartest chick if it took you two hours to check the one place I would most likely be. Now, do you mind? I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, you’re not. You’re going to call Lance and tell him you’re okay.”

The fuck I was. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Really? Because I’m thinking that my best friend—with whom I thought we shared everything—has been lying to me for months does concern me.”

I scrubbed a hand across my face and sighed. “I couldn’t tell you.”

Bo shoved my legs up and out of the way and sat across the end of the bed, leaning back against the wall. “He showed up at Katie’s place needing to talk to her alone. He looks bad, Danny. What happened?”

My stomach rolled as shame assaulted me. I could have left him a note, woken him and told him I was leaving. I shook those thoughts away. I had done the right thing by leaving, and it wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference how I did it—the outcome would be the same. Would it have made any difference if he’d seen how hard it was for me? Would letting him see the tears that poured from my eyes when I walked down that hallway make this any easier for him? Wasn’t it better that I let him think I was a prick and had just cast him aside when I was done with him?

“Danny?”

I scooted around on the bed until I was sitting next to him and leaned my head on his shoulder. “Where should I start?” I whispered and took his hand in mine.

He squeezed my hand. “From the beginning, I guess.”

So I did.

I told him about the stripper and Lance’s attraction to me. I didn’t go into graphic detail, but I shared with him how it started out as an ego boost and a fantasy for me, an experiment on Lance’s part. The early morning texts, the tenderness and real friendship that started to grow, the moments when I began to realize that I wanted the impossible, when I began to fall for him. Through it all, Bo just held my hand and let me pour my soul out to him without saying a word.

When I recounted our trip earlier in the week and how I felt when I saw Lance kissing that girl, and what I did afterward, Bo finally interrupted me.

“If it makes you feel better, he wasn’t cheating on her with you.”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“I mean, I think he was when you two first got together, but he ended things with Morgan months ago.”

So the girlfriend had a name. I’d always wondered, but it probably wouldn’t have mattered—I’d have still referred to her as the blonde bimbo. “He left his cell phone at her house. I saw them together. Trust me, he’s still with her.”

Bo shook his head. “Morgan and Katie are good friends. I didn’t hear what Morgan had to say, but I heard Katie’s response the thousand times Morgan called. Jesus, that chick talks a lot.”

“You picked her.”

“Not Katie, you ass, Morgan.” I lifted my brows at him and he laughed. “Okay, she talks a lot too, but Morgan’s got her beat.”

“Wow!”

“I know,” he said, still laughing. “Anyway, Morgan wanted Katie to talk to Lance. Try and talk him into going back to her, but from what Katie said, Lance kept saying he couldn’t. He wouldn’t tell Katie or Morgan why, only that it wouldn’t be fair. When Katie finally cornered him and forced him to tell her what was going on and what he meant by it not being fair, he said he needed to focus more on football and his studies. That he cared about Morgan but wasn’t in love with her. That was all he would say, but Katie was sure there was more to it.”

“Bo, I’m telling you, I saw them together.”

“I don’t know what you saw, but he ain’t with her.”

“What about the cell phone he left at her house?” I asked skeptically.

“From what I heard, Lance was hanging out with some of his old friends and Morgan found out and showed up. Lance left when she caused a scene, but he either dropped his cell phone or, more than likely, she swiped it.”

Okay, my behavior after seeing the two of them together just added to the pile of guilt and feeling of douchebaggery. I probably owed Lance an apology, but even as I thought it, I knew it wouldn’t happen. It changed nothing in the grand scheme of things. I think Lance knew it too. It explained why he didn’t tell me he’d broken things off with her and let me believe they were a couple. He couldn’t ever have a relationship with me and I simply couldn’t continue to see him, certainly couldn’t touch him, and hide my true feelings for him anymore.

When I didn’t say anything, Bo finally asked, “Are you going to talk to him?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Can I ask why? He’s obviously crazy about you.”

“He’ll be three years out of high school during the next draft.”

“And?” he asked, confused.

“Yeah, I had the same reaction. Lance’s dream is to play in the NFL.”

Bo looked at me with a confused expression on his face.

“It’s the one thing he wants most and will do anything to achieve his goal. He doesn’t have a Plan B.”

After a moment, Bo frowned and looked down at our hands. “And if people found out about the two of you—”

“No dream,” I finished for him.

“That sucks,” he said sincerely and pulled his hand from mine to wrap an arm around me.

I snuggled in closer and nodded. “Yup.”

“Any chance you can still be friends?”

“No. Mike’s already been starting rumors about Lance coming over here. Lance didn’t say it, but I’m pretty sure that’s why he stopped coming over and started having me meet him instead of picking me up.” My chest felt heavy, like someone was standing on it, stealing my breath when I thought about having to be in the same room with Lance and not be able to touch him. “I mean, I can be friendly toward him when I’m with you and Katie, but I don’t see that happening a lot anymore.” I swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump that had formed in my throat. My voice still cracked with the swell of emotion when I admitted, “And to be honest, I think it would be too hard for us. I know it would for me. At least for a while.”

“Worse than Cody?”

“That wasn’t love—that was teenage hormones gone wild.”

“And now you know the difference?”

I could only nod and try not to puke, or cry, or suffocate. All three were possible and it sucked.

“No offense, but Jesus, I’m glad I’m not gay. I have enough trouble with relationships without all the added bullshit you have to deal with.”

“Yeah, it can be rough sometimes, but the sex is way better.”

“Like you would know.”

I sat up and glared at him. “Stephanie Croft?”

Bo rolled his eyes at me. “You only made it to second base, that doesn’t count.”

I gave him a saucy smile. “Yeah, but I hit a home run with her brother.”

“All-state baseball and basketball star David Croft, notorious skirt chaser, so did not do you.” He popped me in the arm and then scurried off the bed before I could hit him back. “In your dreams, Marshal.”

“Oh, please! He’s a big ol’ queen. Last I heard he was living with his boyfriend down in Toledo. Besides, I never said he did me.” I gave him a naughty look.

Bo’s mouth fell open and he gaped at me when it dawned on him who was bending over. “Jesus!”

I just grinned.

“C’mon, get dressed. We’ll go get a gallon of double-fudge ice cream and rent a couple of sappy chick flicks. I’ll let you snot on my sleeve and you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“Aww, just like I did for you when Amy Minz broke your heart.”

“Whatever. You rented Predator and gave me a box of Milk Duds.”

“And you bawled like a baby,” I teased, slipping on a sweatshirt and jeans.

“My allergies were acting up!”

“Mmm hmm,” I murmured as I pulled on my tennis shoes.

“They were!” he said sharply, but he was smiling when he held the door open for me.

I stopped and went up on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Thanks,” I said sincerely.

“Anytime.”

I doubted I’d feel a whole lot better by morning, but spending the evening snuggled up with my best friend, with double-chocolate ice cream, sure beat the hell out of staring at the ceiling all alone.

C
AN
we talk?

I stared down at the text and just like the day before, and the day before that, I ignored it. I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to say to him, if anything. I dropped the phone back onto the bed and covered my head with the blanket.

I should have been in class, doing something, anything to get my mind off Lance. The whole past week—hell, the previous month—had been totally craptastic. I’d made the decision to stop seeing Lance the day we’d gone to pick up his phone. Yeah, I felt guilty as hell for not giving him any explanation, but, Jesus, after what I told him on the way back from the Unity, I’m sure he knew why.
“There is no Plan B.”
I was convinced he would have been perfectly happy with the whole
let’s fuck when we can and pretend we’re nothing more than friends when we’re in public
, but I couldn’t. For me, Lance had become more than just a friend—or rather, I wanted us to be.

It wasn’t until right before I was to leave for New York, numerous pleas from Katie, and a little time away from him to come to terms with my feelings for Lance, that I finally gave in and agreed to talk to him.

He’d sent one of his now familiar
Can we talk?
texts, and after taking a deep breath, I hit the Call button.

“Danny?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, my heart in my throat.

There was a long pause on the other end, and suddenly I wasn’t sure why I had called him, or that I wanted to hear what I knew he would say. I leaned back against the headboard and pulled my knees up, hugging them.

“I want to talk to you. Can I come over?”

I blew out a ragged breath. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

“Come on, Danny, just for a few minutes.” His voice was pleading.

The tone of his voice had me nearly giving in and agreeing, but thankfully the more rational part of my brain told my heart to back the fuck up, and took over. “Then talk. I’m listening.”

He was quiet for a second. Then he said in a low voice, “I just want to see you. Please, I’ve missed you.”

“Don’t say shit like that,” I told him with a sigh as I rubbed at my burning eyes.

“Well I have,” he insisted.

“Is it me you miss or your experimentation?”

“You.”

“Bullshit,” I bit out, my anger instantly flaring. I’d been a fool to think I had come to terms with my feelings for Lance. As unfair as it might have been, I lashed out as all the conflicting emotions came rushing to the surface. “You barely fucking know me beyond the bedroom.”

“I know plenty about you, and if you give me the chance, I want to learn a lot more.” His voice sounded sincere, which for some reason only infuriated me more.

I wanted to know everything about him, and in turn, I wanted him to know everything about me, and therein was the problem. Had I been able to keep my feelings for him on a friendship basis, none of this would have been an issue. But no matter how hard I tried to convince my heart that Lance was not, nor would he ever be, able to love it back, the damn thing hadn’t listened.

“So you want to come over, do you? Because you miss me?”

“Yeah.”

My defense mechanism for hiding my hurt, Mr. Happy-go-lucky, was firmly in place when I said, “Okay, sure, come on over. I’m sure I can convince Mike, my nosey neighbor, who is a total rumor whore and has become very interested in your comings and goings from my room, that you and I are just a couple of buds hanging out to chat.”

I heard his barely audible curse of
shit
, but he didn’t say anything more.

I figured I’d help him out. “Oh wait!” I snapped my fingers close to the phone. “You probably already heard the rumors since you suddenly stopped coming over. Maybe you should just pick me up. How far down the block would you like me to walk so no one sees the fag getting in the car?”

“Danny—”

“I can call Bo and Katie and ask them to join us at the coffee shop.” I was getting more and more pissed off as I spoke, and it took a real effort to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

“Jesus. Why are you so pissed off? I’m not the one who left you in a fucking motel room without so much as a good-bye, but suddenly I’m the bad guy here?”

The anger in Lance’s voice shredded my tentative hold on my own infuriation. “No, you’re the guy who wants me to suck his dick in private but can’t be seen with said cocksucker in public.”