"Well... I mean..." It's not like Michael makes me nervous. Well, he does, but it's the situation that makes me more nervous. The whole 'his brother wants to set me on fire' thing kinda gets to me. 

And we made out a while ago.

Goddammit, I forgot we made out.

"Don't worry, Hot Stuff, I'm not stalking you. I'm gonna see Baby Mitchell play tomorrow. He's probably quitting football, you know." I feel my face scrunch in confusion. "Oh, shit... you didn't know that?" We both move to the left as someone passes us. In the ten seconds nobody seems to be going in or out, Michael shoves me into the biggest stall.

"What—"

"I need to ask you something. I mean, it's not like I have your number or anything. I thought about stealing it from Mitchell's phone, but—"

"Get to the point, Michael," I interrupt. "You know how this looks?" I indicate that there are two pairs of grown-ass shoes in the bottom of the stall. People must be assuming some crazy things right now. Michael takes it upon himself to hop onto the toilet and sit.

"So... do you know if Conner is talking to anyone? Or are you talking to him? I just want to know."

"Yeah, he's making his rounds," I whisper with an eyeroll. "Why?"

Michael shrugs, a defeated look spoiling his face. "I guess maybe I wanted to try things again or something... it's whatever."

I scoff, "I wouldn't get involved with Conner right at the moment. And you're twenty years old, now. Not eighteen." Michael nods in understanding. I chuckle. "Plus, I'm not the person to be talking about relationships."

"I thought you were dating someone," Michael teases. I shake my head, 'no'. "No big deal. More Brandon Owens to go around. And not because you're fat anymore, either."

"Fuck you," I snap quietly. "That's what I'm afraid of." I hear some voices of my teammates as they enter the bathroom. Great.

Michael pokes one of my pecs repeatedly. "You're afraid of being fat again?"

"No, I'm afraid of getting around too much."

"Well, consider this: you just found out you're gay—"

"Ah... no. No, I don't even know that..."

"Oh... don't tell me you're pulling the 'bisexual' crap. I tried it. 'No, Mom, Dad! I could still marry a girl! For now, I'm just gonna fuck every single guy I see because I just realized what I like.' C'mon, Brandon," Michael chuckles. I don't respond. They always say: get a second opinion. Michael, who has been through what I'm going through, says the exact same thing that Jetta does. Seems like a huge wake-up call to me. "Hey... hey, I'm kidding."

"No, you're not," I grumble.

"Yeah, I am. Really. I'm sorry," he chuckles. "Sometimes being bi works for some people... I don't know, Brandon. I guess I just don't get it."

"Whatever, man." I leave the stall without thinking, and come face-to-face with Mitchell, who instantly spots his brother behind me. "Mitch—"

"I swear to god," Mitch groans, instantly whipping around to storm out of the bathroom. Onlookers shift out of his way uncomfortably, glancing from him to me in confusion. Whatever. I couldn't care less what people think of me in this town I'll probably never ever come back to.

I catch the last of Mitchell's tirade out of the restaurant and back to the bus. I thought I had anger problems. Right after Mitchell tells me to stay the hell away from his brother, he finds us walking out of a bathroom stall in the most random place. I can understand.

Mitchell and I used to have more in common besides potentially quitting football. Not a single person, even Marshall (aka the tell-all) has hinted toward Mitch quitting. Maybe Mitch does talk to his brother a little.

That doesn't mean I'm gonna say anything to him.

****

We all order our food relatively quickly, besides a few hold ups (both Darian and I got this girl's number, and Marshall got dared to half-moon the coach of the cheerleading team, and he was definitely going to do it. Took us a while to talk him out of it) and head out to the bus. Amy, the girl who gave her number to us, looks a lot like Janie, and says she'll be at the hotel we're staying at. Apparently, their cheerleaders travel with their volleyball team, and we happen to be playing in the same spot. Fine with me.

I've already made the decision to do whatever the hell I want this weekend.

I'm one of the last five out of the Burger King— we must've looked like idiots, all of us dressed in khakis and tank tops— and end up walking behind a group of girls. They all look and talk the same. Chatting about the game and boys and whatever. It's so dumb. I wish I could jump into conversations and talk about boys. Well, I suppose I could, because I'll never see them again. It's just so different.

The only girl I've ever talked about boys with is Aiden, and... I don't want my cousin to be my best friend, too. That's dumb and maybe it's small minded, but for fuck's sake, Matt just gave me a hand job on the bus. Right out in the open. And I can't talk about that with anyone I really trust here.

"Hey, what's his name?" one of the girls says behind her shoulder. I'm not sure if she's talking to me. I didn't even know they were aware of me behind them.

"Me?" I ask idiotically.

"Yeah. Who's the tall blonde one? I feel like I know him," the girl says. The whole group of five slows down, eventually turning to face me.

"Derek Furst. He has a girlfriend," I sigh, although I'm not even sure what the relationship status is of Cill and Derek. I know they're more than friends for sure. The girl that asked me frowns, and cocks one drawn-on eyebrow up in annoyance. "Sorry."

"Boys are so dumb," she says. "Like you guys have to cover for other dudes. I think I'm pretty, even if you don't. And he might. So stop playing around."

Woah, girl. Chill.

"Derek really does have a girlfriend; she plays football for our team. I'm not trying to protect him or whatever. So you can stop playing around, acting like you're superior or some shit." With that semi-sophisticated backlash, I walk through their little group and quicken my pace toward the bus.

Geezus, that girl flipped out on me. I know it's because she's in front of her friends, but still. I have enough on my plate, but it's my responsibility as a decent person to say 'Derek has a girlfriend'. Why is that hard to recognize?

I sit in the window seat, waiting for everyone else to settle down. There's no sign of Matt, so I quickly plug in my headphones before he sits down to avoid the inevitable awkwardness. Give me a hand job but don't look me in the eye, I suppose.

I get started on one of my burgers as he finally sits down, headphones in his own ears. I'd like to know what the hell he's thinking, but I'll leave that up to him if he wants to tell me. I've been through enough head games in the last few months, but this was pretty straightforward of him. I figure he'll let me know what he wants.

I suspect it's been about thirty minutes after I've finished my lunch when my phone vibrates.

Conner: your welcome ;)

Brandon: explain

Conner: what do you think ;D

Brandon: explain...

Conner: c'mon. matt is friendly company I bet ;) your welcome.

Brandon: what the fuck did you tell him.

Conner: the truth about you. you really think he didnt notice you staring @ him? He likes you too he has since you were sophomores. your welcome but u don't have to thank me. He'll tell me about it later so...

Brandon: why are you such an ass.

Conner: I'm not being an ass. I'm being helpful. matt's a good fuck.

Sighing, I jam my phone back into my pocket. Matt is still faced away from me, texting. Probably texting Conner. I guess they were as close as I thought they were.

No matter; I lean against the window, drowning out the cars, traffic, and hum of the bus with Nirvana.

*****

I don't get off the bus on the next stop we have, even though my bladder is killing me. Carter is already pissed, given the fact that his girlfriend held up a sign for me, Mitch thinks I messed around with Michael at Burger King, Conner is going to do everything in his power to make me uncomfortable... I'm better off sitting right where I am.

Matt gets up, though, accidentally touching my leg and mumbling a half-sincere apology. I nod him off and get back to playing Tetris on my phone; hopefully, if my GPS is correct, we'll be at the hotel in twenty minutes. If there's a god up there...

Shelby: we're comin to the game!

Brandon: we?

Shelby: me, pipp, aiden, christina :)

Brandon: haaaaaaa... okay lol it won't be too fun

Shelby: it'll be fine.

Brandon: something weird happened on the bus... idk if I can tell u

Shelby: you can tell me anything...

Brandon: ...

Brandon: just wait. Gtg.

Shelby: suspense is KILLING ME

Like I predicted, we're pulling into the Doubletree Hotel at 4:00 p.m. Troy halts us from stampeding outside to tell us to wait in the lobby of the hotel for our rooms and keys. Right when he's done with his lecture, the group of cheerleaders we briefly met at Burger King pull up into the parking lot on the other side of the building. Well, this should be interesting.

Of course, every time I accidentally come into contact with Matt or vice versa, it seems as if we ironically end up in somewhat sexual proximity. It's nerve-wracking. I really don't know if I can work up the courage to ask him why the hell he decided that grabbing my dick was the best way to tell me he was interested. Or why he just automatically took Conner's word that I was interested in him. Which I'm not.

Not long-term, anyway...

"Switched up the rooms a little, fellas," Troy says. "Freshman, Shields, Owens: room 217."

"What?" Conner, Matt, and I say at the same time. "With all do respect coach," I speak up, "You said seniors got to pick rooms. Matt and Darian already worked it out with me."

"We don't all get what we want, Owens."

"But—"

"C'mere, Owens," Coach Troy beckons. I sulk over to him. Lowly, he explains, "I asked you to look after Freshman, and I think he really looks up to you."

"I think he doesn't, and this isn't... I just can't help him. We don't get along," I explain. "Plus, this is probably our..." I trail off. "Never mind."

"What? Go on 'nd say it, Boy. Last game?"

"I don't mean it like—well, we can't give up, I know. But it's just not fair to the seniors," I clarify. "It's your call. Never mind." Troy looks at me with an empathetic look on his face.

"Alright. You, Evans and Shields get to room together. But not cause I like ya," he sighs. Honestly, I think he just wants to make sure I'm here next year. I won't be, no matter what, but it's a nice thought. I thank him.

Even though I don't have a damn clue how tonight is gonna go, I'd rather room with Matt than Conner.

*****

"Pizza or Outback Steakhouse?" Carter asks our room. Matt isn't even in here, and Darian hasn't said much to me, instead deciding to watch some weird anime show on Netflix.

"Outback," both Darian and I say. Was that even a legitimate question?

"Had to ask," Carter sighs, typing into his phone. It's like he read my mind. "You'd be surprised how many guys want to stay here, cause of all those cheerleaders on floor 4."

"Stupid," I sigh.

"Because you don't like girls?" I hear Carter mumble under his breath before leaving the room and closing the door loudly. Damn it; that shouldn't even bother me. I know Carter's just steamed at me for what his girlfriend did. I sigh again, flopping onto my bed. Even though Matt and Darian are seniors, I still want my own bed. Current circumstances say I'll get it, too, unless Matt decides to pull something Conner-ish and sleep in the same bed as me. I shiver at the thought. If that happens, I don't know if I'll be able to stand my ground.

Speaking of the devil, Matt comes into the room quietly, tossing his bag on the ground. "Your brother is downstairs, Darian," he sighs. Darian hops off the bed, leaving Matt and me alone. He stays close to the wall, and sits in the chair farthest away from me.

I'm debating whether to say anything or not. How do I start this conversation? What is the conversation anyway? I keep tossing between knowing exactly what I want and having no clue who I even am so often, I should be exhausted. We're going to share a room together, for goodness sakes. From now, 5:00 to next morning, Matt will primarily be within twenty feet of me. I don't know how to handle this.

"What the hell was that on the bus?" I ask. The words just fly from my mouth wildly. They don't even sound like words. It sounds like a bad script.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Sorry isn't enough but then again it seems like too much... yeah, he should be sorry for springing this up on me, but who should apologize for a good hand job? "Matt, we could've been caught." Matt says nothing, picking his nails and staring at the carpeted ground. "Then you completely cut me off and acted like it didn't happen."

"I got embarrassed. Can't blame me. It was Conner's idea."

"You do whatever Conner says?" I ask cynically.

"Do you?" I'm about to snap back when he interrupts. "You could've told me to stop. It's not a big deal," Matt huffs, going into the bathroom. Immediately, I follow him, banging loudly on the door. "It's over with."

"No, it's not," I argue. "Matt, open the door." After a pause, I knock again. "Ma—"

The door swings open; Matt stands with a frustrated scowl on his face, making his pink lips tight and small. "It's not like we're gonna win tomorrow. I picked you to room with for a reason."

"That's not the point, Matt," I sigh. "You could've told me you've liked me for a year..."

Matt's expression shifts from defensive to confused in half a second. "Conner is a damn liar if he told you that. I only told him I was gay a week ago. Never said anything about you until he brought it up." Matt rolls his eyes. "I can't wait until football is over," he sighs.

I don't say anything, assuming he already knows how I feel. Everyone knows how I feel about everything anyway. Nothing is fucking sacred in this damn school. So, no. I never told Conner not to tell anyone about our one-day sexcapade, but it's common sense and human decency to assume I didn't want Matt to know. Or anyone else. Conner is playing us all. I'm even starting to dismiss this thing that he has with Tyler.

Shelby would probably tell me to grow up and let Conner make his own decisions; he's obviously mature enough to realize that he's screwing his life up. Truth is, I've been trying to take him under my wing since we became friends. A month ago, Troy would've been prouder than ever to see us communicating.

Of course, I had to go on and sleep with him. Of course, he had to go and try to sleep with someone else the next day. That's how it works, right? Brandon Owens tries to start something great and it crumbles stale within a few weeks. How long is it before Shelby realizes what a screw-up I am and decides I'm not worth the time? There's no point in trying right now.

Which is why I declare this weekend mine. No trying. No emotions. No over-thinking things.

There are some hot cheerleaders upstairs. There's a hot senior in this room, and he wants something to do with me. I smile to myself. Halloween is on Saturday.

"Hey," Carter opens the door. "Hawaiian, cheese, and pepperoni okay?"

Pizza after all. Can't complain too much.

*

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{a/n} I'm really sorry that this really sucked and was super uneventful. I really feel like I let you guys down all the freakin' time because I'm always so busy and ugh. I feel like I know the places this story needs to go and there are definitely important things that will be happening, but it's so hard to get there. I'm sorry that I suck. But this story will NOT go on hiatus, I promise.

If you want another story that is guaranteed to be updated weekly (parts are pre-written and pretty short), check out my story "Theories". The pace of the story is much... different, and it's kinda sad, tbh. But it's still me! That, or you could hop over to my 'ask a character' book and do things there.

Sorry for being such a shitty author and for making this story so long and shitty and i'm really just feeling like you guys are hating this story even though maybe you're not. I'm sorry and I always say this but I do hope the next chapter comes out sooner. ugh.

ksrrybye