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“Hey, we got off on the wrong foot,” said a familiar voice, catching Bradley off guard.
Max Goof.
They were at a party thrown by some sophomore in celebration of the X games, all despite the disasters that had taken place. The Gammas had intended and almost attempted to kick Bradley out, but were stopped by everyone else who had no idea of the cause of the accident.
“What?” Bradley turned to look at him, not really registering his words. He had been standing outside the dormitory building—as it had become an all-campus involved all-dorms used party—holding one of those red solo cups filled with whatever alcoholic beverage was being served. He was decently dazed by that point.
“I said, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Max repeated with a kind smile.
How could he smile at him like that? After he very literally tried to kill him, no less. What the hell? Bradley could only stare blankly.
“Uh, yeah, I guess so. Sorry for…” he couldn’t finish. Sorry for trying to kill you and your friends to win some stupid competition? Doesn’t that sound great .
“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Max said.
“Sorry? What?”
“It happens.” Max shrugged.
It happens. Like hell it does, Bradley thought.
“Whatcha drinkin’ there?” Max was quick to change the topic.
“I don’t even know,” Brad admitted. “Want some?”
“Can’t. Underage,” Max declined.
Bradley raised an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t take you for a goody-two-shoes.”
“I’m not a goody-two-shoes!”
“You think I’m 21?”
That made Max stop and think. “Wait… That’s right. You’re a junior, and depending on when your birthday is…” He looked to be doing some mental math.
Bradley raised his eyebrows. “Well, think again, pretty boy,” he told Max.
“What?” Max’s heart skipped a beat. Pretty boy? Is that what Bradley said? Did he call him pretty ? Oh, ew, why was he excited?
“What’s the real reason you’re not drinking?” What the hell was he saying? He couldn’t even understand why he wanted to know that about Max. It was none of his business. He really didn’t care, and yet now he was curious. He was at a low point in a lot of ways. He felt defeated. Dropping down to the level of a freshman was only natural and he wasn’t gonna fight it; not tonight.
Bobby had become a drunk, flirty, and wild party animal hanging with the general crowd, P.J. found his small quiet group in some corner somewhere, playing cards. Anyone else Max would hang with was nowhere to be found or was already busy with something or someone else. Truthfully, Max wanted nothing more than to try all the things he always believed he’d have already tried at high school parties, but he was alone and scared. All he could do in response was look away.
“Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to open a touchy subject. You don’t have to answer,” Bradley quickly retreated.
“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that! I’m just- uh…”
“Scared?”
“Yeah…” Max admitted.
Holy shit, did Bradley Uppercrust III care about boundaries? About fears? About others? He asked Max if he was scared and immediately back pedaled when he thought alcohol might be a touchy subject.
Maybe he wasn’t as bad as Max had thought.
“Well,” Bradley went on, “That’s already better than I was my freshman year. At least you’ve got a head on your shoulders.”
“What happened your freshman year?” Max asked, suddenly intrigued.
The junior considered his answer carefully for a moment, then, “I wouldn’t want to scare you out of trying new things.”
“That bad?! Oh, come on, now you’ve got to tell me!” Max said, prodding Brad. “Besides,”he began. He stopped to take the solo cup out of Bradley’s hands and chug whatever was left in it. “New things won’t be new forever.”
“I’m starting to think you’re not so bad, freshman,” Brad said.
“Neither are you,” Max replied. “Can we get more of whatever this is? This shit is good. ”
Bradley’s heart skipped a beat. We. Why did that feel special?
He smiled, nodded, and headed inside, Max tailing him. His smile was genuine. Max felt wanted, welcomed, and not at all as though Bradley was trying to be condescending. As they walked to find the nearest cooler, of which there were more than you could count, Max realized that this has been the most pleasant and genuine Bradley has ever been.
Brad stopped by a cooler and asked the people hanging around, “Hey, what’s in this?” He received a few shrugs, some joke responses, but no clear answer. That led him to retrieve the solo cup from Max’s hands and fill it with whatever was in the cooler. He didn’t give it to Max, instead he took a sip. “Oo, that’s like vodka lemonade with a bit of something I can’t place. Want some?”
The freshman didn’t hesitate to take his party buddy up on the offer. The solo cup was quickly emptied and Max went for a refill.
“Woah, calm down there, buddy,” Bradley instructed. “That’s a lot for a first.”
“Oh, boo-hoo,” said Max. “I can handle it.”
Max could only now feel the alcohol beginning to take its toll. He felt goosebumps rise all over his skin, he smiled stupidly, barely keeping a grip on the solo cup.
“See?” He giggled. “Nothing to worry about.”
Brad rolled his eyes, regaining a bit of sass, and snatched the cup from Max.
“You can’t even keep a steady hand after 2 drinks,” the junior pointed out. “Look at you, you’re flushed!”
Brad was, too. He knew he was. The alcohol wasn’t even part of it yet, but Max was. He couldn’t think straight, he found Max’s laugh charming. He sipped the spiked lemonade, not taking his eyes off that stupid stupid freshman.
“Hey, leave me some!” Max demanded, reaching for the cup. He took a few greedy gulps, nevermind that the cup was still mostly full and there was probably still plenty of whatever that was left in the cooler. Bradley got the cup away from him again and finished whatever was in it.
Max felt on top of the world. He didn’t even drink that much, but he didn’t know his limits and was in a situation completely new to him. Bradley had let go of his grudges and how upset he was to have lost all the community he had been building for over two years. All that mattered to him now was keeping this dumbass freshman from accidentally killing himself and being the example he was meant to be as an upperclassman. He didn’t know it yet, but he reminded himself of his older brother.
Max refilled the solo cup again. Bradley had to take it away from him before he could finish downing the whole thing.
“Play drinking games next time. You’ll make yourself sick, dumbass.” The junior finished what was left in the cup.
Max wrapped an arm around Bradley’s shoulders. “You know sharing a drink with someone is considered an indirect kiss.” That statement was followed by a well known, easily recognized laugh, similar to his dad’s.
Bradley flushed. “Don’t- be weird, freshman,” he stuttered. “We’re both guys. What the hell. Jackass…”
“What are you, scared?” Max teased. “If it makes you feel better, my first kiss was a guy.”
That caught the junior off guard. He put his hand on Max’s arm and pushed against it, as though to push it away.
“Wait, what?” he asked.
“But shhhh, it’s a secret!” Max warned in a low voice without a hint of seriousness, swaying a little.
“You’re just messing with me, right?”
“Nope! Gimme that,” Max clarified and asked for the cup back. He didn’t wait for Bradley to react, and took the cup anyway. To his dismay, though, the cooler was already empty. “Aw, man.”
Bradley was still debating his views on Max when the two of them were called over to check out some ruckus going on a few yards away. He frowned and started walking the other way as Max cried, “Yo! Check it out!” and began moving with the crowd.
Bradley found a different, open cooler a little ways over, filled with ice and beer bottles. He grabbed two with the intention of heading back to his dorm early and locking himself there until morning with a fast developing identity crisis. He already forgot what he did with the solo cup—including the fact that he didn’t do anything with it, Max did.
Max soon noticed Bradley’s absence. He got bored of the crowd, too short to see what the crowd was even gathering around. He wandered off in search of Bradley, mistaking several people for him in the process, but ultimately spotting him heading inside a familiar dormitory building. He stumbled toward him, successfully catching up.
“Hey, Brad!” he called out. “You jus’ lef’ me, man. The hell?” His words were less clear now.
“Don’t call me that,” Bradley snapped.
“Fine, but a’ least lemme lead the way to my own dorm,” the freshman agreed reluctantly, pouting, slurring his words more. He raced in front of Bradley, only looking back to check that he’s following.
“What?” Brad called out to him. He could have sworn he was heading to his own dorm. Looking around, though, he realized he was, in fact, not in his dormitory building. He must’ve been more drunk than he realized.
Max climbed the stairs, rambling and laughing the whole way. Bradley was right behind him. He couldn’t help but stare. He could not understand a word Max was saying, but that didn’t stop him from staring right at his mouth. His vitiligo showed in interesting patterns all over his face, which Bradley studied every time Max turned his head. When Max wasn’t looking at him, Bradley studied the patterns on his hands just as carefully as those on his face.
He followed Max up the stairs and through the hall all the way to his dorm. Max fumbled with the knob before letting them both in. Bradley shut the door behind himself. Max collapsed onto his bed, all giddy, yet also exhausted and drowsy. Bradley sat down on the ground beside Max’s bed.
“There’s enough space for both of us here,” Max told Brad, looking down at him with a smile.
The junior accepted the invitation. He got up, sat on the bed, then opened both beer bottles against the bed frame. He handed one to Max and drank out of the other. Max accepted. When he lifted the bottle from his lips, a little beer trickled down to his snake bites. Bradley watched carefully, his first thought being to reach over and wipe it away with his thumb, and his second being to kiss Max and how he’d probably taste like beer.
He didn’t do either.
His heart fluttered.
He felt a swarm of butterflies in his stomach as Max wiped the beer off his own lips.
He couldn’t believe himself. What was he thinking? Max was a boy, and a fucking freshman, at that. He wouldn’t be caught dead with a freshman—a woman—not to mention a guy. He wouldn’t be caught dead… with a woman.
Everything he knew fell away at that moment. Bradley was left sitting on Max’s bed, face to face with a truth about himself he didn’t want to believe. He looked back on all the conversations he’s had about love—which was few, but all similar to what he seemed to be feeling… for Max. He could blame it on the alcohol all he wanted, but deep down he knew. He realized now what it all meant. He’s never felt like this about a girl. Good god, he’s never felt like this about anyone ! But Max was different. He was an athletic goof—literally. He was approachable, easy to talk to, charming, and absolutely gorgeous.
Bradley was snapped back to reality by the sound of Max’s voice.
“Wha’ happen’ your freshman year?” he asked, taking another sip of his beer.
He had kicked his shoes off. Probably. That was the only thing Bradley could think of to explain what Max’s worn down Converse were doing on the ground.
“How ‘bout you tell me ‘bout your freshman year, and I tell you ‘bout mine ,” Max offered. The ‘man’ part of freshman got lost and his ‘sh’ was more pronounced than it should’ve been. It was impressive that he could even keep a cohesive train of thought at this point.
“That’s stupid. This is your freshman year,” Bradley pointed out.
“Oh noooooo,” Max protested, a little louder than he should’ve. “I’m ‘onna tell you ‘bout my freshman year of high school ,” he explained. He put an unnecessary emphasis on the word school.
Bradley sighed.
“What’s in it for me, freshman?” he sounded cockier than he had all night.
“I have a name! ” Max almost yelled the word name. “An’ it’s Maaax…” He dragged out the s sound in both ‘it’s’ and ‘Max’. He giggled. His known laugh rang through his dorm walls. Bradley hated how much he enjoyed hearing it.
Max went on, “Anyway, you would,” he drew the word out, as though thinking what to say next. “Hear th’ story of how I kissed. A. Boy.” He drew out the e sound in story and had a weird inflection for how.
Another laugh. Another sip of beer.
Bradley couldn’t take it. He gulped down a good half of the beer bottle to somehow make that feeling go away. It didn’t help.
“Alright, so!” Even Bradley was having trouble controlling his volume now. He almost hoped he wouldn’t remember anything by morning. He wished he’d grabbed more than just two beers out of that damn cooler. “When I was a freshman, I went to parties like this one, right? My first party, I got stoned and absolutely wasted! I don’t even remember what happened. I told you you got a head on your shoulders, which is more than I had. I would go to party after party and black out every time, without fail. It got to a point where the Gammas had to step in. It was… rough. Uneventful, really.”
That was only partly true, but Brad wasn’t about to tell some freshman about all his family drama or social struggles. Instead, he sipped his beer quietly, avoiding looking at Max.
“Tha’s it? Man! So you were a party animal, huh?” Max got up, put his beer down, and took his shirt off. Underneath it was a long sleeved shirt, which was a stupid idea from the start, but didn’t stop him from rocking the look.
“Oh, yeah. I really- What are you doing?” Bradley asked once he actually looked at Max.
“It’s so damn hot in here,” Max reasoned. “Anyway, my freshman year, there was this guy, right?”
He took his long sleeved shirt off revealing his entire torso bandaged. Well, really, his lower and upper back, as well as a good chunk of his right arm. These were all healing burns from the X games. How Max had made it through the award ceremony that day was beyond Bradley.
Max kept speaking, “...And there was so much tension then, too. So I look him in the eyes…”
Bradley’s eyes became glued to Max, widening.
Shit. It’s my fault, Bradley thought. He lowered his head to his knees, hiding his face behind them. How could Max talk to him like nothing happened? The junior was torn between letting himself feel extremely attracted to Max and feeling extremely guilty.
Max carried on with his story. He put on a tank top that had been hanging on his bed frame. His eyes finally met Bradley’s and he stopped. He looked at where Bradley glanced over—at himself and at his right arm.
“Oh, yeah. Forgot about those…” Max said quietly. It was a lie. Bradley had seen him twitch while changing. Max gently placed his left hand on his right shoulder and looked away.
Bradley’s gaze traveled to the floor. He gripped the beer bottle tighter and ran a hand through his hair. Max sat back down on the bed, closer to the edge and farther than he was initially sitting in relation to Brad. He drank his beer in silence.
The freshman shifted further onto the bed, leaning against the bed frame, adopting a more open pose, facing the junior on the opposite end of his bed. Bradley imitated him in a way, keeping his knees close to himself, his shoes on the ground, but facing Max.
“So you’ve kissed a guy, huh?” Brad asked.
Max nodded.
“How was it?” Bradley lowered his voice.
“Great,” Max answered honestly.
Bradley hummed thoughtfully and sipped his beer. He moved up against the wall and scooted a little closer to Max. Max didn’t mind and he himself moved against the wall and a bit closer to Bradley. He took another sip, the beer trickling down and threatening to drip from his lip rings, again. He went to wipe it away with the back of his hand, but before he could Bradley took said hand.
Bradley had been staring at Max’s hand, the one on the bed, continuing to examine the patterns created on it by his vitiligo. He really only took it to get a better look at the continuation of a pattern whose rigid edges he had been following from Max’s arm. He didn’t realize, in his still drunken haze, that he had stopped Max mid-action, nor did he register Max’s response, which consisted of first giving him a confused look, and then smiling at whatever it was that he was doing. Bradley finally looked up at Max, the fact that this was completely out of the blue physical contact for both of them finally setting in.
“Sorry,” he quickly apologized and dropped Max’s hand, averting his gaze.
Max laughed. “No, it’s fine. You can look at it. You can hold it,” he assured the upperclassman, keeping his smile.
Oh, his smile. Bradley melted. Still he wondered how Max could stand him after all he’s done. Where did he get the patience? Why?
He noticed the bit of beer that hadn't dripped yet from one of Max’s lip rings. He instinctively reached for Max’s lips, placed his hand on his cheek, and wiped the liquid off the ring with his thumb. Max stared at him, dumbfounded, flustered and flushed. Not that it was visible in the poor lighting. The only source of light was the street lamp outside.
The moment Max felt Bradley’s hand twitch with the intent of moving away, he placed his own hand on Bradley’s.
“Keep it there,” he whispered. He had thrown all reason out the window. He was in a weird, dazed state of acceptance. He wanted nothing more than Bradley. He leaned closer to him, abandoning his mostly empty beer bottle on his desk. He took Bradley’s now empty bottle out of his hand and placed it beside his own. Max didn’t even associate his burns with Bradley. In his mind, they were somehow two separate, unrelated things.
Bradley’s heart was racing from the moment Max’s hand touched his. When Max moved closer to him, he first assumed it was for a kiss. A million thoughts were racing through his head as Max shifted to put his head on his shoulder. That was better than a kiss, right? Less risky, less… telling. Despite that, Bradley still found himself feeling a faraway pang of disappointment and an unfulfilled longing.
Max shifted closer, still, pushing Bradley against the bed frame and pressing his face to his chest.
Bradley didn’t protest. He just made himself comfortable in the corner between the bed frame and the wall, beneath the shelf.
Max cautiously wrapped his arms around Bradley and held on tight. Bradley just as cautiously put his arms around Max and let him stay there.
Max listened to the junior’s heartbeat intently. It was fast and loud.
“Your heart is-” he began to point out quietly.
Brad interrupted him, “Shut up.”
“Okay.”
They stayed like that for a short while. Max couldn’t help himself and looked up. Bradley met his eyes.
Bradley hated that he got himself to this point. He couldn’t let himself enjoy this. He wanted to feel relaxed and safe, and excited as he was, he also couldn’t help but feel anxious. This wasn’t who he was. What would come of his already destroyed social life? What would his parents think? His brother? He thought of it as though something had already happened between him and Max, but then remembered he had the power to change things.
He didn’t push Max away. He didn’t change anything. He didn’t move. He didn’t want to. He kept eye contact with Max, knowing what he must’ve been thinking, waiting for him to do something.
Max didn’t do anything, either. He was too scared to. He hadn’t been so reckless in so long, if ever. He didn’t know how Bradley would feel about it, so he put his head back against Bradley’s chest, breaking eye contact.
Bradley hated himself for feeling disappointed again.
The two stayed like that for what felt like eternity. Both of them eventually fell asleep and slept through the rest of the night undisturbed.
Bradley was awoken by the sudden brightness of the new day. It wasn’t even dawn, because when he opened his eyes, the sun had already risen. Panic set in the moment he remembered where he was. He looked around frantically, but it seemed that nobody else ever got back to the dorm. His restless stirring had woken Max up. The freshman pulled himself away from the junior, sat up, and drowsily rubbed his eyes.
“Ow… Shit, my head is killing me!” Max groaned.
Brad scrambled to his feet. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, that’s what happens. Good luck with that hangover.” He sounded oddly apathetic as he started heading for the door.
“Hey, wait!” Max called out, going after him.
Weirdly enough, Bradley stopped and turned to look at him. He had the most pained expression on his face for a brief moment.
“Dude, Brad, you good?” Max approached him and put his hand on Bradley’s shoulder.
The junior shrugged his hand off.
“Don’t touch me,” he said coldly.
“Okay, okay. Listen, about last night,” Max began.
“No. Don’t. Stay away from me, weirdo.” There it was. That look of skepticism. No, it wasn’t his usual fierce glare of ‘I’m better than you and I don’t even have to try’. It was akin to disgust.
“What?” Max looked at him in disbelief and defeat. He remembered the conversations they had last night. “Oh my god, is it because of the story I told you? It wasn’t a big deal!”
He didn’t dare bring up how close the two of them had been all night, but they both knew that was a part of the reason for Bradley’s current attitude.
“You’re joking, right? Not a big deal? I’m sure you don’t need me to explain why it is , in fact, a big deal, do you?”
Max’s eyes were full of tears. He dropped his head and stared at the ground. As steadily and quietly as he could, Max replied, “No.”
Bradley left the room silently. At the same time P.J. and Bobby returned.
“Dude, what was that about?” asked P.J.
Bobby followed up with, “Yeah, the hell was he doing here?”
“Nothing,” Max mumbled. He looked up at the ceiling, curled his hands into fists and cried, “He is so infuriating!”
“You good?” Bobby asked.
“Fine! Just… Hung over,” Max lied. Partially. It was true that he was hung over, but man was he far from fine.
He got his skateboard and a few bucks and headed out. Bobby and P.J. exchanged concerned looks.
Max felt heartbroken. This was worse than a regular rejection. The way Bradley spoke and everything he implied hurt and Max would bet money on knowing what Bradley was holding back from saying. Why did it have to be Bradley of all people? Suddenly, Max didn’t feel as comfortable potentially being open about his sexuality as he always thought he was or would be. He feared his friends would think he was weird and avoid him, he would be cast out of social circles, and although he knew his dad didn’t mind, he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with his dad as his only companion, either. He wanted to run away. He wanted to find a quiet corner to cry in. Anything.
He hoped skating and getting breakfast at Denny’s or something would clear his head.