Wait, what?! Why couldn’t I have…
Fallen…
In…
Love?!?
What the actual fuck, Miller? You can’t just decide you were in love with someone now that you’ve lost them. You’re just tired and emotional. You’re spiraling and need to get a grip.
Except, I knew it was headed that way. I knew I was feeling some sort of way. Even before Thanksgiving, but certainly after…
“You can talk about it if you want to,” Eric whispers. “You don’t have to. But we’re here for you if you’d like to get it off your chest.”
My eyes flick up to Leo, who nods from his desk chair.
“There really isn’t much to say,” I rasp, thankful that it’s mostly true. Technically, there’s a lot that could be said. But most of it isn’t necessary for the overall point to be made. “I screwed up. And I threw everything away.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case.”
“I got myself suspended, expulsion pending.”
Leo’s mouth dropped open. “How did that happen?”
“I punched Pierce Jamison in the face. I might have broken his nose, although I tried to pull back as soon as I realized my fist was already flying.”
Eric pulls back. “Youpunched someone?”
I nod. I know they want more of an explanation, but really that’s the only part that matters. I did a bad thing, and I’m going to be punished for it. Which I deserve. No matter where my head was or what my excuses were, I did it. If I’m being very honest, it’s something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time.
“Who is Pierce Jamison and what did he do to deserve getting punched?” Leo asks, sounding almost amused.
“Yes, because I know you, Brody, and he must have done something bad to warrant a teddy bear like you flying off the handle like that,” Eric says.
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” I say.
I can tell by the way his shoulders slump that his feelings are hurt by that, but it’s the truth. After all, as close of friends as the three of us were when I went to school here, I never told them anything about my life back home.
“You’re Broderick Wesley Miller from Colson Creek, South Carolina. Your first name is your grandma’s maiden name on your dad’s side because your older brother Davis was named after your mom’s family. Your favorite color is burgundy. Your favorite food is any kind of pasta with cheese on it even though it makes you constipated. You’re allergic to cats but love them…”
“None of that makes me a good person, Eric.”
Eric ignores me and keeps going. “Your favorite color is burgundy because it’s your mother’s favorite color. You like pasta because it’s the only thing your mom had the time or money to prepare very often, and it’s the first thing you learned to cook yourself so you could help. You call or text your mama every other day because you don’t want her to worry about you. You didn’t drink on your own twenty-first birthday so I wouldn’t be the only sober one, even though you snuck me into a dive bar and I could have totally gotten away with it,” he says pointedly, making both me and Leo chuckle because it’s been a long-standing argument.
“Remember the time you fireman-carried my heavy ass across campus when I twisted my ankle?” Leo asks.
“Didn’t you twist your ankle because I tripped you?”
“Maybe. But you warned me that if I kept staring at that girl's butt, I’d pay the price for being ‘the bear’.”
I shrug. “You already look like one, you should take extra care not to act like one.”
His lips quirk. “See? Helping humanity one sorry cis straight guy at a time.”
“You helped me get switched to an easier ACE-credit math course, then rearranged your busy schedule to tutor me so I wouldn’t fail my first semester,” says Eric. “And I actually ended up getting an A in that class. I still think you should be a teacher, by the way.”
“I saw you apologize to the door frame once when you walked into it.”
I snort and swipe a hand over my face.
