Chapter 3: THE TASTE OF REGRET

THE TASTE OF REGRET

The house carried the strong smell of beer–one that Ethan knew too well. It mixed with the faint scent of cigarette smoke clinging to the couch cushions and curtains, welcoming him as he opened the door. 

Coughing, he pushed through the ash cloud as he prayed his brother was already passed out. 

“Yo, genius." 

Another prayer unanswered. 

"Hey… come here.”

Ethan muttered a curse under his breath, halting halfway down the hallway. Sucking air through clenched teeth, he turned to his brother. 

Jack Sanders laid sprawled across the couch, one hand holding a half-empty beer bottle, the other clutching loosely the TV remote. Cold pizza littered the coffee table before him and the TV buzzed with the sports channel, flickering blue light across the room. 

“Why you sneaking into the house?" Jake slurred slightly, squinting at Ethan. “You steal something? Are you past your curfew? Shit, is it past nine already?" 

“I'm not sneaking,” Ethan mumbled, adjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. “I just got back from school. And I have some homework to do." 

"Uh… okay,” Jake mumbled as he snorted. "Get me some beer from the fridge when you come down.”

Ethan didn't bother responding. He started toward the stairs when Jake suddenly jumped off the couch and stumbled toward him. 

"Hey, hold up,” he shouted, his footsteps thudding down the hallway. "Wait, Ethan.”

Ethan stopped again, his fingers squeezing the strap of his bag. What did the bastard want now? Money? A drug run?

Jake stopped a few feet from him, eyes narrowing as he studied him like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn't care enough about. 

"Wait, you got prom coming up, right?" 

Ethan blinked, clearly taken aback by the question. “W-What?" 

“Prom, doofus," Jake repeated slowly, like Ethan was an idiot. “The party where you dress like a fucking penguine and take a chic out." 

Ethan shrugged awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess." 

Jake grinned, punching him not-so-playfully on the shoulder. "So what hot girl are you taking out?” he asked, rubbing his palm. "Tell me she got some fat ass.”

Ethan frowned, rubbing his aching shoulder. “I don't have any," he muttered. “Not everyone's obsessed with that stuff." 

Jake barked out a single laugh–loud and harsh. He took a big swing of beer before pointing the bottle at Ethan. “You better start being obsessed, man," he said, swaying slightly. “It ain't normal for a guy your age not to be chasing girls." 

He leaned back again, face scrunching. 

"Unless you're one of those…” He made a vague gesture with his hand, laughing, “... you know. Those dudes that love dicks.”

Ethan's pulse skipped but he said nothing. He just stared at his brother, hoping he would get distracted by the screams from the TV. 

He didn't. 

"Man, if I ever found out my own brother was one of them freaks–” He stopped laughing, letting Ethan complete the sentence himself. “Anyway, go get yourself a girl for prom. Nerd like you would probably need the practice.”

He waved his beer in the air, whooping as he turned back to the TV. Ethan stood there for a long moment, replaying everything that Jake had said…

Replaying the kiss. 

Without a word, he nodded once and headed upstairs before Jake could say anything else. The moment his bedroom door slammed shut, silence filled the space. 

Ethan sighed loudly as he tossed his backpack on the floor. He dropped down on the edge of his bed and ran his hands over his face. His fingers drifted unconsciously to his lip where the swelling had gone down a little. 

Where Blake's fist had left its mark. 

And worse–where the taste of Blake's lips still lingered. 

Ethan groaned, squeezing his eyes. “Idiot," he muttered to himself. "Idiot, idiot, idiot.”

What the hell even pushed him to do something like that? To kiss Blake Thompson–ths most aggressively straight guy in the entire school. 

He should have even gotten more than a punch. What else was he to expect? A kiss back?

The thought tore a bitter laugh out of him… until he began imagining it–Blake's tongue against him, his strong arms wrapped around his waist, bulging crotch brushing past his thigh. 

Ethan leaned back against his bed and stared up at the ceiling. No matter how hard he tried to push the thoughts away, they always kept creeping back in. 

He thought back to the way Blake had frozen, the warmth of his mouth against his, and that second–that fraction of a second–where Blake hadn't pushed him away. 

And tomorrow was going to be another hell. 

Blake had probably told everyone–the football team, the cheerleaders, the entire school. By lunch, he would be known as the gay freak that tried to kiss the school’s quarterback. 

Perfect.

_______________________________________________

Every step Ethan took as he approached the school building felt like wading through quick sand. The thought of what laid within caused his stomach to tighten and his heart to beat faster. 

“Hey, Ethan," Jake called, starting his beat-up 2004 Chevrolet Cavalier. 

Ethan turned to him as the window began to slowly wind back up. 

"Don't forget to get yourself a lady for the dance,” Jake shouted over the roaring engine. "See you after school.”

The window fully rolled up and Jake sped into the traffic. Ethan stood there for a moment, watching the car until its taillight disappeared among the many before turning to the building. 

With a deep breath, he walked in. 

As he headed to class, he expected whispers, stares, laughters, or someone asking if he's still trying to kiss dudes. He remembered what happened to the last kid that was discovered to be gay and he expected worse. 

But nothing happened. 

Everyone just walked past him like usual. Lockers slammed, people laughed, but no one stared. 

Ethan frowned slightly. This was… strange. He never saw Blake to be the type to keep things quiet, especially after something as severe as being kissed by the school's nerd. 

Still, he tried keeping his head down as he made his way to class. 

Dr. Keller, their chemistry teacher, was already in the room as Ethan slipped into his seat near the front. He pulled out his notebook and textbook, the familiar routine managing to calm his nerves a little. 

All he had to do was focus on school and ignore everything else. 

Or at least try to. 

As the teacher wrote on the board, the classroom slowly filled with students. No one addressed him and Ethan kept his eyes glued to his note. 

But he didn't need to look behind him to know Blake was there. He always sat two rows behind him. 

Somehow, he could feel his presence–that strange prickling awareness that made the hair on his neck stand.. and his cock twitch. 

No. Clear all thoughts and focus. 

Ethan lifted his gaze to Dr. Keller who had begun writing equations on the board, launching into a lecture about reaction rates and catalysts. Ethan tried so hard to concentrate on what the old man was teaching, but every few minutes, his thoughts drifted. 

Was Blake looking at him? Was he telling anyone about what happened yesterday? Or was he stoic about the whole thing?

He talked his foot anxiously, his grip on his own tightening. He told himself not to look. If he turned around and their eyes met, he'd probably die on the spot. 

So he tried his best to focus harder on his notes and on what the teacher wrote on the board. Until, Dr. Keller suddenly turned to the class and clapped his hands once. 

“Before I go on," he said, the murmurs quietening, “I have to make an announcement." 

Everyone went still and Ethan adjusted his glasses, forcing himself to stay calm. Were they about to get a pop-test?

“I'll be giving you a take-home assignment this week," Dr. Keller said as he leaned against his desk. 

Groans erupted from everywhere in the room but he ignored it. 

"I'll be dividing the class into groups so you won't have to do it alone,” he continued. "So you can get to picking your partners while I go get the printed assignments.”

Ethan’s stomach dropped as the room began to buzz with chatter. Students immediately began whispering to their friends but he just stared down at his notebook. 

Something told him this was about to go very, very badly.