Fever Pitch (6 page)

Mina smoothed a lock of long black hair behind her ear. “So you and Aaron Seavers had a thing.”

“Yes. And now it's going to be awful.”

“That you were ringleader in some A-H sex club is a surprise, but why Aaron being here means—”

“
Because it's what they do, Min.
They follow me, they fuck me, then they bully me.”

He'd thrown her off her game at first, but now she was back in bulldog mode. “He knew you'd be here and picked his college
after
you told him. Why would he pay nearly thirty grand a year to make your life hell? Also, how was it he hadn't picked his school in June?”

“He was all nervous about his dad. Or something. I don't remember. He was drunk.”
And I was infatuated.
Giles sat on a nearby bench, hunching his body forward over his violin case. “He was sweet. He was cute and sweet, and I'd already been crushing on him. I fell hard, Min. I fell for him, and then he went stone cold after, like they always do.”

Mina sat beside him. “Maybe it's more complicated than that. Maybe…maybe he came here for
you
.”

Giles broke out of his reverie of misery long enough to give her a withering glare.

She swatted his arm. “I'm serious. Why else would he go to Timothy?”

“Pre-med, pre-law, music, scholarship, alumni friend pulled him a string, close to home—”

“
Fine.
Probably one of those things is the reason. But I doubt he came to harass you. If he was that freaked out and he knew you were coming here, this would be the
last
place he'd go.”

“Maybe he didn't have a choice. Maybe his dad forced him to come here, and now—”

“Okay,
stop
. Now you're spinning conspiracy theories.”

“You don't know what it's like, Min—”

“Tell me, and find out if I know.” Her voice was sharp, and Giles could hear the hurt beneath her anger. “Clearly you haven't told me all kinds of things. Tell me now. Unless this is some big gay club secret you can't share?”

“It's not a secret.” He toed his sneaker into an anthill in the crack of the sidewalk. “What was I supposed to say, though? Golly gee, Tim Linden blew me after biology?”

Her jaw fell open. “
Seriously?
Tim Linden is
gay
?”

Giles's stomach hollowed out. “Maybe not. Some of them I think just wanted sex, and they didn't care how it happened—until after. I was really big with the Abstinence Club. As if I wasn't really sex.” He nudged some of the anthill back into place. “That's why I never told you. You were all sweet virgin, dreaming of kissing the guys I was getting hot and bothered with.”

“What, so you were mocking me?”

“
No.
” He stopped messing with the anthill and rested his forehead on the top of his case. “Not mocking you. I…I don't know why I couldn't. I was as bad as them, I guess. If I didn't talk about it, it wasn't real.”

He felt Mina's hand on his leg. “What happened with Aaron?”

Giles lifted his gaze to stare at the sidewalk leading to his dorm. “For half a second I thought he was different, but then he got the deer-in-the-headlights look they all do, and he ran off without a goddamned word. Today when I saw him, he stared at me like I was an axe murderer.” He put his head down. “I can't go through this bullshit again.”

“Then ignore him. If he really is an ass, ignore him.” Mina rubbed circles on his neck. “I still think maybe he came here for you.”

“If he did, it's the stupidest reason in the world to choose a college.”

“It'd be terribly romantic. I always thought he was a sweet guy. I could totally see it.”

Unbidden, Giles replayed the moments when they'd talked in the car, when he'd thought much the same thing. “He's shy, but he's scared. Scared guys aren't good news, and scared guys who think I'll out them are the worst of all.”

It upset Giles that Mina had no rejoinder, no more Pollyanna comebacks. Too late, he realized he'd kept her in the dark because he
needed
her eternal optimism.

“It can't be the same as A-H,” she said at last. “You're right, it's unlikely he came here for you, but I don't think he's necessarily going to go apeshit on you. There's no way he has a gang of thugs already, and while he is bigger than you, I think the two of us could take him.”

Giles's hands tightened on the cloth of his case, digging into the hard shell beneath. “Every time I see him will be a reminder of how I thought he was different but wasn't.”

Mina leaned her head on his shoulder.

Giles wallowed in his misery, the ghosts of his past hovering over his beautiful, shiny future. He thought of the intense twink at orientation, closed his eyes and imagined getting lucky without strings for a change.

He tried, but when he closed his eyes, all he saw was Aaron staring at him: gorgeous, beautiful and afraid.

C
hapter Six

A
fter the choir tryout, Aaron and Jilly wandered the mini campus town west of Saint Timothy and had dinner at a pseudo-French bistro. They talked about choir, about their classes, about life. Aaron had more fun with her than he'd ever had with a girl, probably because every other time he'd hung out with a girl, he'd been on a date. This was not a date. Jilly made no moon-eyes at him, never touched his hand or flirted. It was a profound relief, but eventually he felt he had to address the elephant sitting in the middle of their booth.

“What I said at the tryouts. About the upperclassman being hot.” Aaron had to let the words ring in his head a moment before he went on. “That's…only the second time I've admitted out loud I'm gay.”

The third,
he amended inside his own head. Because probably begging Giles to fuck him counted.

Jilly's soft, warm hand closed over his. “I'm honored you felt you could trust me. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to.”

“I don't want to keep it a secret, but I still freak when I think about coming out.” Self-consciousness got the better of him. “Sorry, you don't know me well enough to have to hear all this.”

“Stop. Of course I want to hear all this. You're my choir angel. You're nuts if you think I don't want a chance to rescue you right back, even this little bit.”

It wasn't little to Aaron. “Thanks.”

“Have you thought about joining the LGBT group on campus? I mean, going there is likely the same as coming out, but I doubt they have the meetings in the middle of the student union with a big sign advertising
here are the gays
. You'd meet some people in your same boat.”

He'd thought of checking them out, but after Giles's reception… “There's this guy here. From my hometown—he might go to those meetings.”

Jilly's face fell. “An ex? Oh, that sucks. What a bummer you both ended up at Timothy.”

No way was he confessing he'd followed Giles here. “It's okay. I think for now I'd rather keep things to myself. Well, and you.”

“Absolutely.” She smiled, and Aaron felt good, like maybe between choir and Jilly, things would work out after all.

It was eight before he returned to his dorm, and as he approached his room, he could hear movement inside. Apparently Elijah had finally arrived. Trying not to be nervous, he opened the door. “Hello?”

A svelte young man ducked out from behind a stack of boxes, steadying them with a delicate gesture when they threatened to teeter. His eyes were hard and critical as he scanned Aaron up and down, and whatever he saw made the young man tense.

Aaron offered a nervous wave. “You must be Elijah. I'm Aaron. Did you just get in? Can I help you with anything?”

“I'm fine.” Elijah kept his grip on his boxes as if he thought Aaron might try to take them.

Not sure of what to do, Aaron went to sit on his bed, thumbing through his phone as his roommate unpacked in total silence. It was odd how they didn't talk, but what was weirder was the more Elijah moved, the more Aaron thought his roommate
had
to be gay too. There wasn't any of the second-look stuff Walter had told him about, but if there was a poster boy for swishy gay stereotype, it was Elijah. Walter said stereotypes didn't count, but…man.

The conviction made Aaron slightly crazy, because if Elijah thought Aaron might be judgmental of him, by rights all Aaron had to do was say, “Hey, I'm gay too,” and they'd be fine.

Except he couldn't figure out how to say it without being a tool. Also, he wasn't sure he was ready for gay confession number four. Not today.

When Elijah began to unpack a box full of religious stuff—a cross, a Lord's Prayer in a frame, what appeared to be several different Bibles or Bible-like books—Aaron was glad he'd kept quiet. He didn't know what to make of Elijah shoving all the religious stuff in the bottom drawer of his desk, but at that point Aaron decided the best thing to do would be to put in his headphones and check out. He watched some YouTube, played solitaire. He was about to go brush his teeth and head to bed at an embarrassingly early hour when a text came through from Walter.

Hey, tiger. How's your first night? How's the roommate?

Aaron glanced over at Elijah, who was arranging his underwear in lined-up rolls inside his dresser drawer.
Weird.

Walter's reply was swift.
What's he like? A big jock? A bruiser?

Aaron almost laughed.
No. Small and incredibly effeminate. There's a lot of religious stuff.

Joy. What kind of religious stuff?

Decorations and Bibles and things. Except he put them in a drawer, so I don't know what to think.

Aaron thought about telling him about the praying for a new major, but decided against it.

Walter typed a new message.
Enough of the weird roomie. Tell me about Giles. Did you run into him? How did it go?

Aaron's gut hardened into rock.
Awful.

Three seconds later, Aaron's phone rang. Elijah glared at him, and Aaron apologized as he put the phone to his ear. “You didn't have to call.”

“Yes, I did.” God, but it felt good to hear Walter's bright, sure voice. “You were so nervous about this meeting, and you just told me it was awful. What happened?” When Aaron paused, glancing sideways at Elijah, Walter read his mind. “Take a walk. Laundry room ought to be pretty vacant right about now.”

“I don't know where it is.”

“Great time to find out. Start walking, start talking.”

Aaron fumbled for his keys and headed out the door. “Not much happened. But it wasn't great.”

“Where did you see him? What did he say?”

“Nothing. We were at orientation, he looked like he wanted to kill me.” The hallway was full of guys, so Aaron ducked into a stairwell. “That was it.”

“What? Aaron, that's not so bad.”

Aaron hunched over and slid down the wall. “You didn't see his face.”

“Maybe you surprised him.”

Aaron snorted. “Yeah. Not in a good way, either. He was
not
happy to see me. Not indifferent either. He was
pissed
.”

“Hmm.”

Aaron could hear a movie playing in the background. He wasn't sure, but he thought he recognized a song. “Is that
The Little Mermaid
? Are you babysitting?”

Walter grunted. “No.” The phone rustled, and the sounds from the movie went away. “I'm sorry Giles turned out to be a jerk, but don't let him get you down. Tell me about something else. Something good.”

“I kind of accidentally joined choir.” Walter laughed and demanded more, and Aaron told him the whole story of meeting Jilly and accompanying her, and of his own audition. “They asked if I wanted to try out for the guys-only group too, which apparently is hard to get into. I'm supposed to meet the director tomorrow. At least, I assume he's the director. Dr. Nussenbaum.”

“Wait—
what
? Did you say you have a morning meeting with
Nussy
?”

What? That was bad? “Uh…”

“Harvey Nussenbaum, one of the most famous Midwestern choral conductors. He did a benefit thing when I was in high school. A guy in our choir had a horrible accident, and his mom arranged for Nussy to come guest conduct our concert to lift his spirits. Nussenbaum was amazing, though a little high-strung. Never walked, at best did this kind of crazy scuffle. Usually he jogged.” Walter laughed softly. “Goddamn, that was the best week of my senior year. So he's your conductor—
and
he wants to see you about music classes. You must have knocked your audition out of the park, sweetheart.”

“I think I did okay. But it's not like I'm getting another scholarship or anything.”

“You lit up like you never have, telling me your choir story. This is your joy. Follow it.”

“Well, I can't major in music.”

“Why the hell not?”

“My dad would never go for it.”

“You're way overdue on some happy. Take this one and run.” His voice gentled. “Forget Giles too. Go hang out at whatever college club-type hangout they have there, make eye contact with a few guys, and I bet you'll have a harem within half an hour.”

The very idea of a harem made Aaron want to go to his room and duck under the covers. “You have to be nineteen to get into the Shack.”

Walter's chuckle was evil. “Yeah, we'll fix that over your next break. In the meantime, flirt with the choir boys. Gotta be fish in a barrel there.”

Aaron had no idea how to flirt. “I liked Giles, Walter.” He swallowed as the barb tugged across his heart. “A lot.”

“I know, honey. I'm sorry. But if he can treat you that way, he's not worth your time. There will be somebody better. I promise.” This time Walter's laugh was soft and sad. “Hell, if a wiseass jerk like me can live happily ever after, anybody can. Maybe give it a few weeks, though. Let yourself heal. And when I come visit, I want you to point this guy out so I can deck him.”

“No,” Aaron said automatically.

“He was a total jerk to you. He took advantage of you, never contacted you after, and now when you show up at his college, he treats you like dirt. He's a fucking user.”

“He was so nice, before.”

“Yeah.” Walter's tone was bitter. “That's how they do it. Sweet as sugar until they get what they want. Then you might as well not exist.”

“So how will I ever know who the right guy is? Because it sure seemed real to me.”

“Go make some friends, and don't worry about Guppy Giles or how to figure out boys. Our schedules are crazy right now, but Kel and I are coming sometime in October. If you need us before, you holler.”

Aaron knew he was supposed to say
you don't have to do that,
but he couldn't make the words come out. “Thanks, Walter.”

“Anytime. Except next time you have a shit-tastic day, I expect
you
to text
me
.”

“Okay,” Aaron promised.

T
he next morning Aaron went to the music building to check on Nussenbaum's office hours. He made it as far as the front office before Nussy himself hurried out of a practice room.

“Aaron, good to see you.” He gestured for Aaron to follow him as he jogged down the hall.

Not sure if he should do the same, Aaron compromised with a brisk walk.

Nussenbaum led him into what Aaron presumed was the conductor's office, though it was a lot bigger than he'd have expected a professor's office to be. There were several shelves behind his desk, but also a small sitting area with a love seat, easy chair and room enough for a string quartet to set up.

Motioning for Aaron to sit in the chair, Nussenbaum perched on the edge of the love seat. “I'd love to hear about your training. Clearly you must have had extensive piano instruction. You also mentioned you were in a band. Did you participate in choir as well? I don't think I saw you at Minnesota All-State last year.”

Aaron suspected firing squads were less intense than Nussy. “I didn't go. I was in choir when we lived in Eden Prairie, but not when we moved. I haven't had piano lessons since ninth grade.”

Nussenbaum's eyebrows went up. “I see. What about the band you mentioned? I assume you sang?”

“Well, we all did. But yes.”

“So you didn't sing at all outside of choir? No ensembles, no solos?”

Aaron began to fidget. “No. Sorry.”

“No reason to apologize. I'm only trying to figure out how someone with such a clear gift wasn't nurtured. In Eden Prairie at least I would have expected them to recognize your talent.”

“Oh, Mr. Peterson said I was good. He tried to get me to do solo competitions but—” Trying to explain his father's rigid sense of what real academics were seemed unwise. “I'd love to be in choir now.”

“We'd love to have you. The Ambassadors too.” Nussy leaned forward, those eyes like tractor beams. “But what I'm hoping to convince you, Aaron, is to take some music courses.” He passed Aaron a sheet of paper from a nearby table. “Theory would have to be an elective, but music history would qualify as a general education credit. If you chose to major in anything music related, both classes would count toward your degree.”

Aaron started to object reflexively, stopping when he remembered what Walter had urged him. “I…I don't know.”

“No pressure to declare a music major. This is merely testing the waters. I'd encourage vocal lessons with me and piano with my wife. She's a professor here as well. I won't lie, she'll put you through your paces, but something tells me you'd enjoy the work. Will you think about it? If money is an issue, I can look into some scholarships.”

Aaron felt dizzy. “I— How much are lessons?”

Nussenbaum rose. “Let's go talk with the secretary.”

Aaron ended up filling Thursday mornings for the first semester with first a vocal lesson with Nussenbaum and a piano with the other Dr. Nussenbaum, whom everyone referred to as “Dr. Mrs.”

“You'll get a bill for the lessons in your student mailbox,” the secretary told him, “but if it's too much, bring it back and I'll take care of it. Nussy's orders. Oh, and don't forget to sign this one too. That's so he can be your advisor. This one is your change of course schedule, which I'll file for you, unless you'd prefer to run it to the registrar yourself.”

Glancing down, Aaron saw a new schedule for the coming Monday, one without Introduction to Management at seven forty-five in the morning but instead had Intro to Theory at nine. History of British Literature was also gone, replaced with History of Music.

Give it a try.
With Walter's voice echoing in his head, Aaron signed the papers and jumped into trying headfirst.