anything. Is he still being a pain in the ass?”
“Yes, but it turns out he wasn’t bullshitting about his liver being shot. He’s barely functioning, but that doesn’t stop him from being a dickhead most of the time. He also keeps drinking like a fish. If Raymond doesn’t kill him, the next six-pack will. He doesn’t even go to the doctor like he’s supposed to. We argued about it, but it got so heated I had to give up. I can’t force him to care about himself.”
“I don’t get him. At all.”
“You and me both.” The train stopped at the next station, and I winced, wishing I’d popped a few aspirin. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this. I can’t focus as it is.”
The crush of people in the car intensified, and Nunzio moved closer until we were squished against the door. He didn’t hesitate to align our bodies until we were chest to chest, his mouth brushing my ear. I let him lean into me and didn’t pull away like I normally did when he showed these public displays of affection.
Nunzio was oblivious to the curious stares his touchy-feely nature garnered, but homophobes were generally reluctant to mess with two guys over six feet, no matter how much he cuddled me. And I couldn’t deny that I’d missed it.
“I wish I’d been here with you. I shouldn’t have gone.”
“I wouldn’t have let you stay.”
“Like you could have stopped me?” Nunzio snorted. “I know how you get when you’re all stressed out and depressed, Mikey. I could have at least distracted you so you didn’t feel the need to knock yourself out every night.”
“You distracted me plenty before you left.”
When Nunzio tilted his head back in confusion, I wiggled my eyebrows and smiled at his startled expression.
“I thought you’d forgotten about that.”
“Yeah, right. The one time we fuc—had fun.”
“You never mentioned it again, and then ignored my fucking calls. What did you expect me to think?” Someone bumped Nunzio, and his coffee slopped over the edge of the tiny opening of the cup. “Besides, you could have forgotten about it while you were partying it up. How often did you get laid?”
I’d gotten laid quite a bit if I counted fucking my hand, but interaction with other human beings had been limited to a couple of perverted Grindr chats. Not that he needed that information.
“Enough.”
“Clive come crawling back yet?”
“I saw him out once, but we haven’t spoken. I heard he goes to some swinger club now.”
Nunzio’s brows flew up. “That’s… random.”
I shrugged, uncaring. “I haven’t thought about him much, to be honest. I had enough going on.”
“Yeah, I bet. Did Raymond and your dad ever stop….” Nunzio trailed off when I shook my head. “Damn, still? Why?”
“Because they’re both hardheaded and hot-tempered, and neither wants to back down. Typical tough-guy bullshit.”
“Isn’t Joseph a little old for that?”
“Ha. Tell him that.” The train jolted and rocked so hard that half the people in the car staggered to the side. My head thumped the door and I hissed. “And now I really don’t want to talk about it anymore. If school is good for anything, it’s a distraction from my horrible home life.”
“You said that same shit when we were in high school.”
“I’m sure I did. And after all that effort, I ended up right back where I started.” Nunzio opened his mouth to reply, but I waved him off. “No—forget it. Change the subject. Tell me about Italy.”
“You sure, man? If you need to vent….”
“I’m positive. Take my mind off that bullshit for a while.”
He smiled. “I’ll try.”
M C C LEARY H IGH School was what happened when a principal got a brand-new school with a brand-new building and had the opportunity to handpick staff from the ground up. Most of the teachers were in their midtwenties or even younger, and transplants from an out-of-state school—sometimes an Ivy. Everyone thought they were saving the
“Yes, but it turns out he wasn’t bullshitting about his liver being shot. He’s barely functioning, but that doesn’t stop him from being a dickhead most of the time. He also keeps drinking like a fish. If Raymond doesn’t kill him, the next six-pack will. He doesn’t even go to the doctor like he’s supposed to. We argued about it, but it got so heated I had to give up. I can’t force him to care about himself.”
“I don’t get him. At all.”
“You and me both.” The train stopped at the next station, and I winced, wishing I’d popped a few aspirin. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this. I can’t focus as it is.”
The crush of people in the car intensified, and Nunzio moved closer until we were squished against the door. He didn’t hesitate to align our bodies until we were chest to chest, his mouth brushing my ear. I let him lean into me and didn’t pull away like I normally did when he showed these public displays of affection.
Nunzio was oblivious to the curious stares his touchy-feely nature garnered, but homophobes were generally reluctant to mess with two guys over six feet, no matter how much he cuddled me. And I couldn’t deny that I’d missed it.
“I wish I’d been here with you. I shouldn’t have gone.”
“I wouldn’t have let you stay.”
“Like you could have stopped me?” Nunzio snorted. “I know how you get when you’re all stressed out and depressed, Mikey. I could have at least distracted you so you didn’t feel the need to knock yourself out every night.”
“You distracted me plenty before you left.”
When Nunzio tilted his head back in confusion, I wiggled my eyebrows and smiled at his startled expression.
“I thought you’d forgotten about that.”
“Yeah, right. The one time we fuc—had fun.”
“You never mentioned it again, and then ignored my fucking calls. What did you expect me to think?” Someone bumped Nunzio, and his coffee slopped over the edge of the tiny opening of the cup. “Besides, you could have forgotten about it while you were partying it up. How often did you get laid?”
I’d gotten laid quite a bit if I counted fucking my hand, but interaction with other human beings had been limited to a couple of perverted Grindr chats. Not that he needed that information.
“Enough.”
“Clive come crawling back yet?”
“I saw him out once, but we haven’t spoken. I heard he goes to some swinger club now.”
Nunzio’s brows flew up. “That’s… random.”
I shrugged, uncaring. “I haven’t thought about him much, to be honest. I had enough going on.”
“Yeah, I bet. Did Raymond and your dad ever stop….” Nunzio trailed off when I shook my head. “Damn, still? Why?”
“Because they’re both hardheaded and hot-tempered, and neither wants to back down. Typical tough-guy bullshit.”
“Isn’t Joseph a little old for that?”
“Ha. Tell him that.” The train jolted and rocked so hard that half the people in the car staggered to the side. My head thumped the door and I hissed. “And now I really don’t want to talk about it anymore. If school is good for anything, it’s a distraction from my horrible home life.”
“You said that same shit when we were in high school.”
“I’m sure I did. And after all that effort, I ended up right back where I started.” Nunzio opened his mouth to reply, but I waved him off. “No—forget it. Change the subject. Tell me about Italy.”
“You sure, man? If you need to vent….”
“I’m positive. Take my mind off that bullshit for a while.”
He smiled. “I’ll try.”
M C C LEARY H IGH School was what happened when a principal got a brand-new school with a brand-new building and had the opportunity to handpick staff from the ground up. Most of the teachers were in their midtwenties or even younger, and transplants from an out-of-state school—sometimes an Ivy. Everyone thought they were saving the
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