——Sam

“Okay, wait, you did what? You made Aaron gay?”

I let out a sigh of frustration. Talking to Chloe about what I just did to Aaron’s assignment wasn’t helping me at all. All she did was a gasp, shriek, and ask me to repeat myself by saying, “You did what?” more than a couple of times.

Nervously pacing back and forth in my room, unsure of what to do next. I didn’t give it much thought when I wrote his so-called confession to Mrs. Seymour.

“I wanted to teach him a very valuable and unforgettable lesson.” I reasoned with Chloe.

“By making him homosexual to Mrs. Seymour. You’re right, that’s perfect. That’s exactly the right way to teach someone a lesson,” she told me. I could sense the sarcasm all the way from her bedroom to mine. “Listen, Vander has texted me already. His parents’ flight is delayed, and they won’t be home ‘till tomorrow.”

I sighed. “Chloe, I listened to you, even if I didn’t want to, about you and Vander and your disgusting rendezvous. And it is just customary that you return the favor.” I flopped onto my bed, a bit annoyed that she was trying to get rid of me to see her revolting boyfriend. I was her best friend. I should come in first before Vander.

She exhaled loudly from the other end. “Sam, you and Aaron have been at each other’s throat since that stupid kiss. You’re still alive. He’s still alive. No blood has been shed. So, I think all you guys will ever do is ridicule each other. Now, aren’t you used to it yet?”

Yet. No blood has been shed yet. I corrected her in my mind. I hadn’t told her about the untold part of my war with the obnoxious twat. I hadn’t told anyone really. No one must know about how I hide inside the ladies’ room until I finally feel safe; no one must know about the outside school confrontation; no one must know about my real struggles. I couldn’t let them know. I couldn’t look defeated to any of them. I didn’t want their pity. I didn’t want to be another Shelly Brown.

“You think I should go to his house and act like I didn’t do anything?” I asked her. I had to admit that my logic wasn’t functioning at its usual full capacity and my emotions had turned it over. In other words, I was pretty scared. Aaron wasn’t the type to let something like what I just did pass.

“Look, he’s done stupid things to you in the past.” If she only knew. “Go to him and just be the professional tutor that you are. I personally think he’s not in the liberty to do anything stupid other than throwing you recycled insults. His grades are at your mercy. Explain to him why you did it. And you’re his tutor, for goodness sake. You’re technically untouchable. You’re bossy. Boss over him.”

I sighed. “If you were in my shoes though, would you do the same thing? Go to his house and boss him over and act like you’ve done nothing to him.”

Chloe laughed hysterically. “Are you kidding me? Of course, I won’t. I’ll forget about the whole tutor thing. Fuck it. Who knows what he’d do to me. You can’t just call a straight guy gay and get away with it, especially Aaron. I don’t think he’s the kind of person who forgives and forgets.”

“You’re not helping, Chloe.” I cringed. Obviously, she was correct. Although her first advice was what I needed to hear, she was right about Aaron. He wouldn’t let it go, and his relentless and absurd effort to destroy me just because I crashed my mouth with his mouth was a case in point.

After discussing speculations and the likely and unlikely scenarios with Chloe, I threw my hands up and gave up. There was just no point. I grew more confused as I continued to weigh the pros and cons of not going to Aaron’s house.

“Just win it through grits and wits, like you always do. Vander’s not cooking, so I’ll come to your house for dinner,” she told me before hanging up the phone, leaving me to mull over the situation all by myself.

I looked over at my clock on my bedside table. Thirty minutes had already passed. That’s it. I’m not going.

I got up to call and inform Bruce about it when I heard a knock on the door. “What is it?”

The door opened. “What are doing?” Christie, my ten-year-old mini me, asked.

Apart from our brown hair and hazel eyes, my sister and I also shared the same enthusiasm in organizing our life ahead than everyone else. She wanted to graduate with honors and leave town and contribute something to society as a doctor. She would settle down when she’s thirty-five with two kids and a pet pit bull and retire when she’s fifty. For a ten-year-old, she had impressively mapped out her entire life already.

When dad was still alive and Christie was six, they were inseparable. And as a family, we used to spend most of our weekends camping. Dad loved the outdoors. I could still remember how his blue eyes sparkled every morning when he greeted Christie and me in our tents, urging us to go outside and greet the birds. My dad was a handsome, adventurous man. Maybe that’s why mom loved him so much. I had caught mom caress his ash blond hair a few times when they danced in the kitchen. She adored him, and he was such an inspiration to her.

“Sam?”

I blinked, and the image of mom and dad dancing instantly disappeared. And I was back to Christie and her question, to which I answered with a question. “This is my room. Should I have a reason to stay in my own room?”

“Mom and I are going out to buy milk and flour for her baking class tomorrow morning. She wants me to ask you if you still have enough sanitary pads for next month,” Christie said, looking slightly off-put. Despite her ability to sometimes see and understand things from an adult’s perspective, she was still a kid when it comes to things like menstruation.

“Yeah. And what’s for dinner?” My stomach growled.

“We’ll pick up something on our way back. We still have some cinnamon rolls. You can munch on that while you wait.”

“Fine. Just buy something for Chloe, too. She’ll be coming for dinner.” I closed the door and dug my phone from my backpack and dialed Bruce’s number. I waited for him to answer but I was redirected to his mailbox. After three attempts, I left a message and grabbed Sidney Sheldon’s Rage of Angels on my bedside table.

Mom and Christie had already left when I went downstairs. I grabbed two rolls of cinnamon from the kitchen counter and hopped on the couch and opened the book to chapter sixteen. A few minutes later, I had already emptied my plate, but I was still on the same page, reading the same paragraph over and over again. I tried to concentrate on the words in front of me, but my mind wouldn’t just cooperate.

What could Aaron possibly be doing by now? Plotting his revenge? How did Mrs. Seymour react to his confession? Did he tell her the truth? What would happen now? As I allowed different scenarios to play inside my mind, I couldn’t help but snicker at the situation that I had put Aaron in. He had unknowingly and foolishly given me the power over him. It only served him right.

I was in the middle of planning in securing my safety when the doorbell rang. I almost fell off the couch. Dammit, Chloe!

I pulled myself together and went to open the door. “Chloe, you’re earl—” my heart fell mid-sentence when I saw Aaron Lanter himself standing on my doorstep. And he looked pissed.

“Hello, Banks.” His voice was nowhere near friendly. Anger flickered in his icy blue eyes.

My attempt to shut the door in his face failed when he prevented it by placing his arm on the door. “What do you want, Lanter? And how did you know where I live?”

“People talk. They answer, Banks, especially when I’m the one asking.” He moved his foot forward. I shrank back as he towered over me.

“And what do you want?” I asked without batting an eyelash, trying so hard not to show any fear. After all, he was in my house. My hand held the doorknob tightly while the other remained at my side, squeezed into a fist. “I think you should leave. Or, I’ll call the police. Don’t you dare do anything stupid.”

But despite my warning, Aaron stood firm, his eyes locked on me. “You do know why I’m here, Banks. Talk and convince me why I shouldn’t do anything stupid right now.”

Oh, boy.

I swallowed hard, my heart was racing, and my mind was swirling and praying for mom and Christie to arrive any moment now. At that point, I had wished I just did his stupid assignment correctly. But, just like what Chloe said, I wasn’t ready to yield. “Listen, prick, that was to teach you a lesson. If you want to pass Mrs. Seymour’s class, then work hard for it, like everyone else.”

He grunted. His expression hardened. “Do you think telling Mrs. Seymour I’m gay is funny, Banks?” His lips drew into a wicked smile. And before I could think of a smart-ass answer, he cupped my face between his hands, leaving a tiny space between us.

There we were again, faces so close I could smell the mint in his breath.

“Let go of my face, Lanter. My mom is upstairs. One scream and she’ll come down running.” I felt like my heart was going to burst, utterly scared that he would wring my neck in any second. So I did the only thing I could do in a situation like this. I lied and prayed to all the gods, Romans and Greeks alike, for intervention.

“Shut up, Banks. I know she’s not here.”

“I’ll still scream.” I inhaled. His wild eyes sent a shiver down my spine. “You’re an even bigger asshole than I thought.” I pushed at his chest.

“You wanted to teach me a lesson, right?” He snapped. “Then this should also teach you a lesson you’d never forget.”

I shouldn’t have opened my mouth to scream because the moment I did, Aaron’s mouth devoured mine. I was completely shocked and almost peed my pants. The whole world inside my mind had spiraled. My heart palpitated like crazy as his tongue touched my tongue in a kiss that was meant to punish. He bit and sucked on my lower lip, and I thought my feet were no longer touching the ground.

My mind was actively documenting every bit of detail of the moment: how his right thumb briefly stroked my cheek, how he slightly moaned when my tongue unintentionally touched his lower lip, and how he deepened the kiss whenever I began to struggle and pushed against him. He ignored all my efforts, and I thought I was going to suffocate.

When Aaron perhaps thought that I already had learned my lesson, he let go of my face and finally pulled back. His eyes stared into my dark brown eyes, then down at my swollen lips. My mind ordered my hand to give him a good, hard slap, the one that he would not easily forget. However, my hand chickened out and dropped to my side.

What’s going on?

He stared at me like he was just as shocked as I was. His eyes kept darting from my eyes to my lips. After a moment of stunned silence, he took one step forward. His eyes narrowed.

“I’m not gay.” And with that, he turned his back on me, walked out, and go into his car that was parked right in front of my house.

And it was only shortly after he drove off that I felt the horror of what he had done. Anger slowly crept in as I pushed the door open to my bedroom. The taste of his tongue lingered in my mouth. I stared at my ashen face in my mirror. My heart was still pounding loudly. Tears started to cloud my eyes and images of Aaron’s onslaught flooded back to my mind. My hands balled into fists as the tears that I had been trying to fight ran freely down my cheeks.

I was on the verge of bursting into tears when my phone rang. It was Chloe. I held back.

“Hey, loser, change of plan. Vander and I will have dinner together, so I guess I’ll just see you tomorrow.”

I sniffed and cleared my throat, about to say more, but no words came out except for a flat, “Okay.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. Just tired.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow. By the way, did you go to Aaron’s?”

My phone almost slipped through my hand at the mention of his name. “No. See you tomorrow.” I hang up before Chloe could sense that something was wrong. Just like the rest of the confrontations I had with Aaron that I had kept to myself, the kiss would have to be withheld too.

When mom and Christie finally came home, I had completely lost my appetite when my mom told me about the call concerning Aunt Anne, her half-sister, who was married to Uncle Ben, an eccentric man who was divorced twice.

“They went to Brazil for their anniversary. Who would have thought they’re on that plane that was all over the news this morning.” Tears escaped mom’s eyes. She must have been crying on her way home since her eyes were already puffy.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, mom.”

We were never close to Aunt Anne’s family because they traveled a lot. But I knew mom loved her even though they didn’t grow up together. She was the only sister she got.

“Mom will go to Florida tomorrow to check on grandma and grandpa,” Christie told me.

Mom smiled at me and squeezed my hand. “Can you look after Christie and the house while I’m gone?”

I nodded. “Of course, mom. Too bad we can’t come with you.”

“I still have a lot of things to talk about with your grandpa. I don’t even know where your Aunt Anne and Uncle Ben lived.”

That was an even sadder part of the story. We regularly sent our grandparents greeting cards during Christmas but never really visited them for the past four years. And we only had the chance to see Aunt Anne when grandma had her first stroke and when dad passed away. We hadn’t heard anything from Aunt Anne when she married Uncle Ben. We didn’t even go to their wedding because they had it somewhere in India, and they only informed us about two days after.

“We also need to talk about your Uncle Ben’s son from his first wife who died three years.”

Too many deaths. I noticed that mom had not really touched her food. Who could blame her? I couldn’t even bring myself to finish the carbonara on my plate despite it being in the top five of my favorite food in the world.

When we figured out we couldn’t finish our dinner no matter how much we wanted, we decided it would be better to just call it a night. I helped mom while Christie finished her homework. I told them both goodnight afterward and ran back to my room and put on my earphones. Draping an arm over my eyes, I laid on my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

What did just happen tonight?

As I thought about Aunt Anne, my mind deliberately drifted back to Aaron.

A part of me was still in shock and would still probably be in the coming weeks, or even months. There was no way getting over that kiss easily. It was rough and punishing at the same. And what the hell happened to my hand? He obviously deserved a hard slap. I should have fought harder, but I didn’t. How could I when he was looking right through me with those atrociously engrossing eyes. They were so dark and filled with emotions that it briefly destroyed my common sense.

And I hated it.