Kieran & Drew (18 page)

Drew barked out an ugly laugh and then took a quick step closer to him, but was stopped by Kieran, who stood between them and pushed back at Drew, hands against his chest, as hard as he could. Drew actually stumbled back a step, looking both surprised and aggravated. Kieran looked back at Toby. “Toby, apology accepted. We’re done, got it?”

Toby muttered something in the affirmative, ran a shaky looking hand over his hair, and took off, throwing a few quick glances behind him. Kieran turned to Drew, who was watching Toby leave with a look of hate. He shoved Drew in the chest again.

“What the
hell
?” he snapped, and when he heard laughter behind him, he whirled around. “Get the fuck out of here!” he yelled, and the three girls who’d been watching curled their lips up at him and took off. He turned back to Drew, out of breath, his face warm, and completely lost. He shook his head. “What were you doing? You don’t threaten people; you don’t start fights.That’s not you!”

“That is me when some guy goes around punching you!” “I’m not any of your concern, remember?”

Drew flinched, his gaze falling to the floor for a second. “I… I’m not….”

 

“You’re not what?”

 

Drew looked at him, gentler now. “I’m not just going to stand by and let someone get away with hitting you, Kieran.”

“It’s really none of your business.”
“
Yes
, it is.”

“
No
, it’s not. Not anymore. Not since you cut me off and decided you didn’t want to know me anymore.”

“Of course I want to know you.”
“Well, you have a stupid fucking way of showing it.”

Drew reached for his arm, but Kieran took a step backward. “No. You don’t get to drop me one second and then pick me up the next.” “I know I fucked up,” Drew pleaded softly. “I’m sorry, I—”

“I don’t care.” Kieran swallowed, simultaneously hating himself and taking pleasure in watching Drew flinch. “It’s none of your business who I hang out with, and it’s none of your business who I
date
.”

Drew pulled back, blinking quickly. “Date?” he asked quietly. Kieran scoffed, just as something inside of him curled up tight in misery. “What, you didn’t think I could get anyone else?”

 

Drew swallowed, opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it again.

Kieran felt his throat grow thick. He hated what he was doing. He hated that look of hurt on Drew’s face, but he was also feeding off it. It was kindling all the wretchedness he’d been through the past few weeks. “Yes, date.” He swallowed, unwilling to take back the halftruth, even though he kind of wanted to.

“But-but I thought—”

 

“You thought what?” Kieran snapped. “Like you said, it’s not like
we’re
dating.”

Drew seemed to absorb that, his throat working and his jaw clenching. “Okay, but he hit you; you can’t be around people like that, Kieran.”

“It was an accident. We were making out in his car….” He stopped when Drew flinched and looked away, but forced himself to continue. “And then the date was over. I couldn’t work the door handle, he reached over to open it for me, and I got his elbow to my eye. That’s. It.”

“Oh,” Drew almost whispered, looking away from Kieran. “Yeah. Oh.”

 

Drew looked around them, and Kieran noted that they were thankfully—for the moment at least—alone.

 

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you,” Drew offered, his voice subdued.

 

“I’m hearing that a lot lately.”

 

“Are you… are you going to see him again?” Drew shuffled on the spot, his eyes to the ground and his hands in his pockets.

Kieran wanted to snap at him—until he saw the brightness in Drew’s eyes. Kieran swallowed hard. “No. No, you heard me tell him we’re done.”

Drew nodded. “I wanted to talk to you today, but….” He looked at Kieran, pressed his lips together. “But you don’t—you don’t actually even
like
me anymore, do you?”

Kieran felt like crying, but he wouldn’t. “I don’t know what to say to you, Drew. I don’t think we ever actually got to know each other, so how do I answer that?”

Drew stared at him and then nodded. “I’m sorry.” He turned and walked away without a glance back.

Kieran watched him walk away, feeling betrayed by himself for implying what he had to Drew, and angry at Drew for walking away— again—so easily. He turned and slammed his fist into his locker.

ChApTeR NiNe.

F
RIDAY night with nothing to do and nowhere to go. Kieran sat in the kitchen, pushing the food around on his plate. His dad was actually home for once, but seemed to keeping a safe, quiet distance, rather than attempting to talk to him. It made him a little sad.

He looked down at the squares of pasta that had long since gone cold on his plate. His dad had been home but hadn’t waited to eat with him—his plate had been already resting in the sink when Kieran got in late from school after spending nearly two hours making some sort of sense of the—now dreaded—art storage room. He’d found a prepared plate for him in the microwave.

If he craned his neck he could see his dad sitting in his office, slumped over a laptop and completely absorbed. At least he’d left the door open like usual, and it wasn’t as if his dad was giving him the cold shoulder; he was just leaving him alone like Kieran had asked him to. Why he’d started to listen to him
now
Kieran didn’t know, and wished it was otherwise.

He pushed his plate away, unable to eat. His appetite was gone and regret was eating at him. Regret for the awkwardness that lay between his father and himself, and regret from the upsetting and frustrating confrontation with Drew earlier that day. He knew the situation with Drew was over with. It had been as wonderful as it was brief, but it was done now and he had to deal with it.

His dad wasn’t going anywhere. Not only that, but Kieran only had so much time before he had to broach the subject of college, and then if all went well he’d be gone for at least three years. Nothing felt resolved, but despite how unimportant he felt sometimes, it hurt when his father wouldn’t even look at him.

“Dad?” he called weakly, suddenly feeling very young and very vulnerable.

His dad glanced over his shoulder and then saved the document he was working on before closing his laptop and strolling into the kitchen. He rested his hip against the kitchen island in a casual stance and crossed his arms.

“What’s up?” he asked.

The vaguely guarded set to his father’s shoulders was difficult to look at. “Um, I’m… I’m sorry for how I was yesterday.” He worried his lip. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

His dad’s posture became more genuine and relaxed as his shoulders dropped, and the expression in his eyes softened into something less cagey. “Alright,” he said gently.

Kieran’s heart sank. That didn’t exactly sound like forgiveness. “I-I’d had a bad day.”

 

His dad nodded toward his black eye. “I could see that.”

Kieran gestured at his eye. “This really was an accident; I was standing too close and caught someone’s elbow to the eye.” He lifted his shoulders, feeling helpless. “That’s all.”

His dad sighed. “That’s all?” He had that penetrating stare only a parent could use—one eyebrow lifted in question and a
don’t you dare lie to me
set of the jaw.

“That’s all. I wasn’t being bullied.”
That time.
“Would you tell me if you were being bullied?”

He was trying to be contrite, he really was, but the question prickled. “I’m nearly eighteen, dad.”

 

“I don’t care how old you are, Kieran, you’re my boy!”

Something inside of Kieran dissolved. “I am?” he asked softly, a hint of accusation in his voice as he glanced away, unable to hold his father’s stare.

His dad’s hands flew out to his sides as he looked around the kitchen in exasperation. When he peered back at Kieran, his lips were set tight together and he leaned against the kitchen island with one hand, the other resting on his hip. “What the hell do you think?”

Kieran lifted one shoulder up in a sullen shrug. “I don’t know. You don’t talk to me anymore.” He hated how, just recently, the more hurt he felt, the more difficult it was to convey this without sounding like a spoiled, bratty child.

His dad closed his eyes and sighed, as if he were searching for that extra bit of patience sometimes required. “Kieran….” He sighed, his voice softer. “I… I know we’re… we’re not—”

An AC/DC ringtone—his father’s cell phone—interrupted them. His dad cursed, pulled the cell out of his pocket, and checked the screen. Kieran’s eyes narrowed slightly at the hesitation written on his father’s face. It was
her
. He was relieved when, after a moment’s hesitation, his dad sent the caller to voicemail and set the phone down on the counter.

His father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Where were we?” “You not being around. Me feeling neglected.” Now he
knew
he was being a brat. What the hell was wrong with him?

 

“Kieran,” his dad groaned, and Kieran realized that they were getting onto snappy, uneven ground again.

“Who was calling?” Screw it. He didn’t care if his dad didn’t want to talk about it or involve him in that part of his life; they were getting into it.

The indecisive, hesitant look in his father’s eyes, as if he were weighing his options, gave Kieran one small ounce of hope. But the flippant shrug and blatant lie that came next set his teeth on edge. “Just the restaurant. It can wait.”

Kieran’s jaw clenched. “Sure about that?” His knee began to jump up and down as that familiar pang of disappointment and distance stretched out between them. “Could be important.”

“I’m talking to you right now. They can wait.”

 

“Really? Because usually you take one look at your phone and answer on the second ring.”

 

“That’s not—”

 

“Then you walk into another room, looking all flustered and happy, and you close the door behind you.”

 

His dad blinked owlishly, looking cornered. “I don’t do that.” Kieran sighed. It was a sad sound. “Do you think I’m stupid or something?”

“What—
no
! Kieran, I don’t appreciate—” The chirpy interpretation of “Back in Black” came from the countertop, and the phone lit up and vibrated against the granite once more. “Dammit,” his father grumbled, and snatched the phone up. “Just give me one second,” he said to Kieran, and turned and hunched his shoulders as he answered the phone, speaking in a hushed voice.

“Hey,” he heard his dad murmur. “No, I’m sorry it’s a bad time… no, it’s okay, I’m talking to Kieran, is it urgent…
what
? But that fish was fresh.”

Kieran sighed to himself and slid off the stool to walk past his dad and to his room. He’d apologized, that was all that really mattered. He didn’t want to get into another argument, and it was clear that he’d gotten about as far as he was going to when it came to his dad’s personal life, which evidently no longer involved him.

“Wait,” his dad called out, cell pressed to his chest, before hastily bringing it back to his ear. “Can you hang on a second, honey?” Kieran almost spluttered and lifted one eyebrow victoriously.
Got you
. “Honey?”

His father’s face went blank, and the panic that set in only served to upset Kieran. Why couldn’t his father talk to him about this? What, was he embarrassed of the weird, loner kid he had for a son? Did he think Kieran would come between him and his new girlfriend?

“Ah… well, Kieran, I need you to understand—”

A loud knock at the front door interrupted them, and having had enough, Kieran took the opportunity to walk away, shaking his head when his dad called after him. His focus was on his father, who was hastily hanging up the phone, so when he opened the door, he wasn’t prepared to see Drew standing there.

He was pissed at his dad for keeping his personal life a secret, and here stood the boy he had a big gay crush on, making him a hypocrite. Drew was quick to stop fussing with imaginary lint on his button-down shirt. His eyes snapped up to meet Kieran’s, and he smiled hesitantly, about to speak, but then was looking over Kieran’s shoulder.

“Kieran, we’re still talking here. Whoever that is….” His dad stopped short, looking at Drew. As if seeing another kid Kieran’s age stumped him. Kieran turned away from his father and looked at Drew. They both stared at Drew, and no one spoke.

“Um. Hi,” Drew offered weakly.
“Hi,” Kieran said.
“Hi,” his dad said.

Drew shifted uneasily, glancing between them. “So… so is this your dad?”

Kieran sucked in a quick breath and shook himself slightly. He glanced back at his dad and then to Drew, nodding absently. “Uh, yeah, yeah. Dad?” He moved his body to one side out of politeness, allowing his father to step forward. “This is Drew. We go to school together.”

Drew smiled and then held his hand forward. “Hello, Mr. Appleby, nice to meet you.”

 

His dad nodded and they shook hands. “Nice to meet you too, Drew. Do you two have classes together?”

 

“Art,” they both chimed, and then shot each other a nervous look. His father nodded. “Oh. Well. That’s good. Kieran doesn’t usually introduce me to many of his friends.”

 

Kieran shot his dad a glance that all but screamed
hypocrite
, and his father had the good grace to shift uncomfortably.

“Yeah, well,” Drew spoke haltingly. “Um, well I was just wondering… I-I mean I was driving past, so I thought maybe you’d like to hang out? Go see a movie or something?”

Kieran stared at Drew, blinking dazedly and—he was sure— looking stupid. Had he imagined their argument earlier that day? “Well, I’m sorry, but we were actually in the middle of something,” his dad said, and Kieran bristled.

“No, we weren’t.” Perhaps, had he not been arguing with his dad, he would have maintained his previous frosty front with Drew after their last encounter, but at that moment? He was pleased to see Drew on his doorstep, and he was eager to walk away from his dad. If his dad lied to him now, he was sure their relationship would take a knock too hard to get over with just a simple apology.

“We can talk later,” he tried, knowing that later would probably be put off as his dad was dragged back to the restaurant, and eventually the conversation would be avoided altogether.