Best And Worst of Me - 3. Chapter 3

“Listen, the movie doesn’t start for another thirty minutes,” Lizzie announced, looking at her watch, which seemed to be worn more as a fashion statement than for actual use. Quinn leaned back on his car in the parking lot of the theater. “So, you want to buy our tickets now, or what?”

“Oh, the movie came out last week. No rush on the tickets.” She giggled and pinned Quinn up against the car. Quinn tensed but tried not to let it show as she requested a kiss. “Should we go inside at least?” Quinn’s way of pointing out that it was hot outside, and he didn't want to stand around for thirty minutes.

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “We can just wait in your car. With the air-conditioning on.” At least she understood that it was hot outside, but Quinn wasn’t so sure about waiting in the car. Lizzie insisted, and so the two ended up back in the car.

It wasn’t long before Lizzie was all over him, demanding his pants be opened. Quinn gaped and stumbled for an excuse. The best one came from the truth. “We’re in a car!” Quinn shrieked and tried to jerk away from her grasp. “In the parking lot—“

Lizzie gave him impatient look, snaking her hand around his limp shaft. Quinn’s stomach tightened in knots. Now he would be expected to perform, for however far she wanted to go. Lizzie let out a low whistle. “Impressive,” She murmured. She may not be turning him on, but that made him blush. “Look at this,” she wrapped her hand around the shaft. “I know I have small hands, but I can barely fit around…”

Quinn groaned in embarrassment and let his head fall back. Lizzie snickered, and her hand started to frisk the shaft up and down. Quinn swore mentally and closed his eyes. Think of something. Something… He picked Cameron.

For a guy, he could be considered petite. He had to be what, five seven? That was not very tall for a guy. And even though he was in weight lifting, he wasn’t… he was still slim. Quinn felt a shudder course through him. He was on the right train of thought here.

He had managed to get glimpses of Cameron without a shirt on multiple times. What would he look like completely naked? Would he be shy about it, or spread his legs wider and…

Quinn felt another jolt of pleasure rip through him, and with the friction, it turned into an orgasm. He fought back a grunt and tensed up, Lizzie’s hand stroking him out. “Tissues?” She asked, holding up her soiled hand. Quinn forced his eyes open to the sight of the girl, and the person that was most definitely not Cameron.

Quinn gave her a box of tissues to clean up. Inside the theater, Lizzie darted off to wash her hands in the bathroom. Quinn hung around awkwardly until she came out, tentative about taking her hand. They still got into the movie early, and Quinn was grateful for the silence that it brought. He was required to hold hands through out the movie, even though it made his hand and part of his arm fall asleep from the position on the armrest.

Once the movie was over, it was a quick drive to drop Lizzie off and then alone time. Quinn fiddled with his iPod, air-conditioning blasting in the late fall heat, and sat in the shade in a grocery store parking lot. Not the most private, but at the far corner with no other cars around, no one bothered him. He listened to much needed therapy music first, more Blood on the Dance Floor… that was followed by watching short movies he had taken off the Internet. Low budget, most made by college students, but still gay-themed all the same.

One look through his iPod, and he would definitely be found out. What kind of straight guy kept short, thirty-minute long at most, gay movies on his iPod? They weren’t even explicit. Some didn't even have relationships involved, just distant crushes and trying to deal with those feelings.

Obviously he wasn’t taking any leads and picking up random guys in public bathrooms, or walking up to Cameron and just plain out kissing him. But all the same it was nice to see someone else do it.

After another hour and half, his parents started to call wondering where he was. He lied and said he and Lizzie had hung out more after the movie, just wandering around the mall, and that he was on his way home now.

How disappointed would Quinn’s father be to learn his son was gay? He wouldn’t believe it. “Gay guys don’t play football,” Would be his first line of defense, and then maybe some other stereotypes that didn’t apply to Quinn.

Hell, there were groups of football teams just for others to socialize. Quinn had researched it before out of bored interest. He would never be caught going to one of those things, but it was one of those things that was nice to think about. Maybe not date anyone—while he had them, muscles weren’t his type.

Cameron was a different matter.

***

Zach was planning something the following Monday. They had already been sent back to change after weight lifting, and he was whispering things in a few ears. Zach made his way down to Quinn. “Is he bothering you?” His eyes indicated Cameron for a brief glance.

“…Not really.” Quinn answered sullenly. Zach frowned.

“He’s fucking gay, man! It’s creepy that he’s even in this locker room at all. Why the hell do you think no one has a locker by him?”

Actually, everyone else had chosen their lockers before Cameron picked his—aside from Quinn. Cameron had intentionally, maybe even respectfully, kept his distance from the others while in the locker room.

Zach unearthed cans of pink silly string from his duffle bag. He handed two off to others and kept one for himself. He offered one to Quinn.

Quinn stared at it in numb horror. He couldn't. He didn't want to. It was cruel, and mean and—

And Zach was giving him that look.

Come on, man… aren’t you one of the guys?

Quinn swallowed the painful lump in his throat and took the can. He looked at the label deftly. These things were supposed to be for celebration, not… He glanced up, Zach already leading the silent move in on Cameron.

Quinn hopped up and tagged onto the end of the group, watching tentatively.

The first shot of neon pink string hit Cameron’s hair, and he flinched. Turning around, two more cans started their assault on him, one getting him in the chest and the other in his stomach. He swore and covered his face from the can Zach was aiming, ducking down to the ground and curling up in a ball. Quinn chewed on his lip, tasting blood. Good god, they wouldn't care even if he were their friend. They would do this to him too.

Zach looked back, a wicked smile on his face. He urged Quinn on with a jerk of the shoulder. Quinn held still before stepping forward, shaking the can in preparation. He forced a smile, forcing his finger to move and arm to aim.

His fourth shot of the silly string got Cameron in the back.

Zach knelt down and hooked a finger into the waistband of Cameron’s shorts. Cameron turned to his side, hands flying to intercept Zach’s. Quinn released his finger from the can, watching in mute shock as Zach sprayed his silly string down into Cameron’s shorts.

Cameron whimpered and jerked his legs out, clipping Zach in the shin. That got Zach enough for Cameron to get the hands away from his body, sliding back and retreating into the curve of the metal lockers. He was crying now.

Zach stood up and laughed, elbowing the others appreciatively. Quinn followed back to where their lockers were, watching from his distant view as Cameron buried his face in his hands and fucking cried. His shoulders shook, and silly string still clung to most of his bare torso and somewhere in the depths of his shorts. Zach had gotten his underwear pulled back as well.

Quinn’s chest ached painfully, and he looked away from the sight. Zach took all the cans back and stuffed them back into his duffle bag. Zach left first, followed by the other two that had joined. Quinn had finished his change and packing, sending another look at Cameron.

Did he need spare clothes? A towel? A fucking hug?

Quinn stepped over quietly, coming to stand in front of Cameron who hadn’t noticed yet. Quinn made a grab for some of the string matted in the black hair. Cameron shot up and away before awkwardly hunching over and pressing a hand firmly between his legs. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

Quinn flinched. What was he expecting? A make-out session? A “thanks” for spraying the least amount of silly string?

He went back to his bag and zipped it up. He stalled passing Cameron, who was now curled up against the lockers again. Quinn burst out of the locker room and sprinted down the hall, out some back doors and around the side.

He dropped his bag and sat on the rocks, pulling his knees up to his chest. God, he was horrible!

Quinn fumbled desperately for his iPod, tears threatening his own eyes. He was horrible. Zach was horrible—all of them were horrible. He could have just said no, but then what? Tell Zach why he didn't want to?

Quinn didn’t bother seeing Lizzie before practice, or anyone else. He skipped practice all together. He checked the locker room before leaving. There was silly string in one of the sinks, in one of the trashcans, and in a shower stall. At least he had cleaned up… Had he done it in time before the Varsity football team came in and found him, though? Or had he been humiliated a second time by being found?

Quinn forced the lock of Cameron’s locker open—they were never very secure. All of his clothes were taken out, and the blue metal was bare. Quinn shut it and rested his head against the cool metal. His chest hurt like no other, his heart tight.

How could he have done that? He liked Cameron. Quinn liked him. And had tormented him.

Quinn hurried out to his car in the lot and left the school. He drove around aimlessly, listening to Roses for the Dead on repeat by Funeral for a Friend.

Just to say we're sorry

For the black eyes and bleeding lips

When it's hard to forget

How many lies we told,

Or how we'd grow

Before i said goodbye

So lets scrape our knees on the playground

It's not your fault

You feel okay,

It's too late in the day

It's not your fault,

You feel betrayed,

And can't come out to play

I never listened to a word,

You never said,

I never listened to a word,

You never said…

(Lyrics belong to Funeral for a Friend, Roses for the Dead)

An hour after his practice was supposed to end, Quinn’s mother called. He turned down the music and pulled into the lot of a gas station. “Quinn, where are you? Dinner’s been waiting.” She asked impatiently. Quinn swallowed the hard lump in his throat. He still felt like crying.

“I’m, uh, I’m staying out tonight.”

“It’s a school night!” His mother protested.

“Mom, Fuck it, I just need some time to myself!” He snapped into the phone, only to mentally kick himself for swearing at her.

“Honey, are you okay?” She quieted her voice.

“No. Not really,” Quinn choked out.

“Maybe you really should come home, then. We can talk and—“

“No, mom.” And have to play straight. He wouldn't be able to tell them anyways.

“Where are you going to go then, huh?” She questioned. “You’re not suicidal, are you?” The last bit was more frantic.

“No, I’m not.” Quinn managed a strangled laugh. “I don't know, though. I don't want to have to go to anyone’s house.” And have to play straight with them, too. Or maybe even listen to them brag about how they treated Cameron…

His mother sighed into the phone. “Well, you have that credit card in your wallet…”

“For emergencies,” Quinn specified.

“Use it to rent a hotel room if you don't come home, but I don’t want you sleeping in your car. I’ll talk to your father, and… and I’ll excuse you from school tomorrow, okay? Just come home in the morning and let me know you’re alright?”

She would be taking the brunt of an angry father for doing all that. Missing school was only acceptable if one was puking or had a fever in his family. But God, did he need it. He couldn’t face Cameron or anyone else.

“Thanks, mom,” Quinn murmured into the phone, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

“Alright, sweetie. Just stay safe for me, okay?”

He agreed and hung up the phone before turning it off. The moment she talked to his father, the man would call and demand a reason.

Quinn skipped eating all together and drove to the nearest hotel a few blocks from where he was. He rented a single room and utilized the shower, since he hadn’t yet. He collapsed into the stiff and impersonal sheets.

The room advertised Wifi, but he had no laptop. He braved turning on the TV and purchasing a channel of adult content, and watching from a nest of the pillows.