Page 67 of The Art of Drowning

I rolled him on his side and put a bucket nearby. I went to the bathroom and grabbed a couple pain killers for him. I was on the way back from the kitchen, where I’d gotten a bottle of water for him, when Callum’s bedroom door swung open. He stood in the door frame, his form a soft silhouette.

He motioned for me to come closer, but I shook my head.

“One second.” I showed him the bottle of water and watched him nod. I tiptoed back into Sam’s room and set the water down on the nightstand. Then I waved my hand in front of his face and watched for any kind of reaction.

I even whispered his name a couple times, but he didn’t move. His breathing was deep and even. I wouldn’t be long, I told myself. But I had to see Callum. He knew that I was going to a party with Candace and he had to be pissed about it, but unless we wanted to come out, I had to keep up appearances. I had to be the good friend. The straight friend. The party buddy. I had to contort myself to fit into boxes that I didn’t belong in anymore.

For the first time, I wondered if it was worth it. Sneaking around was hard and I hated having to pretend to be interested in someone else just to throw people off the scent of Callum and me. I loved Callum so much my chest ached at the thought of not having him. I didn’t know how to give him up or even if I could.

But what was the alternative? Coming out? I knew my parents wouldn’t care because they didn’t care about anything to do with me. Callum’s parents were literally the greatest people on the planet, and I couldn’t see them being awful about it. But then there was Sam. Angry, territorial Sam. There was no way he’d be okay with Callum and me.

There was no way forward. No way back. Callum and I were stuck in this purgatory that I didn’t know how to get us out of.

I crept out of Sam’s room and into Callum’s. As quietly as I could, I shut his door, then leaned against it. Callum was right there, slotting his body against mine in the dark. He pulled me to him, held my face in his palm, and angled his mouth to meet mine.

The whole night had been shit, right up to the moment when his lips brushed against mine and then suddenly everything was okay. How could I keep doing this? He had to hate me for doing stupid shit like letting Sam drag me to parties I didn’t want to be at with girls I wasn’t interested in.

And yet, he was here waiting for me, kissing me with a tenderness that stopped my heart.

How could I keep lying to everyone so I could steal moments like this?

“What’s wrong?” Callum asked. “You’re shaking.”

“I—” All the things I wanted to say got stuck in my throat. I loved him more than life. I wanted to run away with him, but I still had to finish high school. We needed a plan. We needed to find a way to get Sam on board. We had to tell him before he found out. But none of those words would come out. Because I was terrified that it wouldn’t work. That Sam would be mad no matter what. “I missed you tonight.”

I missed him every night. Every day. It was agony to be so close to him all the time and yet to have to pretend that he was nothing to me. That he was no one. Being in the same room as him when other people were around was impossible. I couldn’t even look at him without fearing that everyone would see right through me.

“I missed you too.” Callum pulled me away from the door, walking backward toward his bed. His hand slid under my shirt, his skin hot on mine. He tugged me toward the bed, pulling me with him when he fell back onto it.

“We shouldn’t,” I whispered without really meaning it.

Sam was out cold. His parents, if they had noticed me hauling their drunk son home and hadn’t come up to say anything about it, weren’t about to be a problem now.

Callum kissed the column of my throat. His hands worked their way under my shirt and he spread his legs wide, so I could fit between them.

Fuck my life, I hated that I was so scared of Sam finding out. It made me feel like the worst kind of person. Like a shit friend, a shit boyfriend, a shit person all around. I didn’t care if everyone knew I was bisexual. They could hate me or not, it was no skin off my ass. But I didn’t know what I’d do if Sam hated me.

If Callum hated me.

And I couldn’t decide which one felt worse.

“Damien.” Callum’s breath ghosted against my ear when he spoke. He brushed his lips against my cheeks. My heart raced, and I thought I might die if I didn’t kiss him. And he sounded like he might suffer the same fate. “Damien, please.”

Before I could think or respond or even blink, light flooded the room and my head whipped around to see Sam standing in the doorway, a look of disgust and betrayal on his face.

“The fuck is this?”

What struck me in that moment wasn’t that we’d been caught. It wasn’t that I still hadn’t had the presence of mind to let go of or get off of Callum. It was that Sam, whom I’d dragged up the stairs, looked stone cold sober.

Oh.

Fuck.

THIRTY-THREE

callum

THEN