Yearn by A. Ellis (story books for 5 year olds .txt) 📗

I made a quick stop in the restroom before grabbing coffee, doctoring it up, making my purchase, and heading toward the empty car—at least he hadn’t left me. A few minutes later, Khi came strolling out with a cup of coffee.

I gestured toward his cup. “I offered to get you a coffee. Least I could do for the ride.”

“Don’t need anything from you except silence,” Khi grumbled as he climbed back into the car.

I followed suit, feeling prickly. “Fine. Whatever.” I shot him a look. “Aren’t you nearly thirty? The childish silent treatment is a bit much.” I reached for my earbuds, but not before I heard Khi mumble something about just needing to get through this drive. “Yeah? Just want to get through the drive? Well, same for me. The sooner we can get this meeting over and done with, the sooner we can return to our regularly scheduled program of never seeing each other and never speaking. You’re not the only one who would rather not be here right now.” I was talking with my hands and Khi gave me a disgusted look, but I didn’t care. I was worked up. “Every so often, I think that maybe you and I should discuss this whole hate thing we’ve got going on, but then you go and remind me of what an arrogant prick you’ve always been and I realize that it’s not worth it.”

His lip curled into a sneer before he shoved his own earbuds in, turned on his music, and pulled out of the gas station just fast enough to have me sloshing coffee on my pants.

“Mother fucker,” I mumbled.

This drive needed to be over. Stat.

I caught a glimpse of Khi’s profile before I slipped my sunglasses over my eyes. What a waste of a gorgeous man. I remembered the first time I’d met him. Gabby and I were friends from band and theater and I went to her house. Khi had walked in and immediately bristled. “What’s he doing here?” he’d demanded.

High school senior Khi hadn’t had the same solid build as now, but he’d been just as attractive. Star of the basketball team, Khi had skated between popular jock and mysterious loner status. He never seemed to be with any one crowd, but no one ever really gave him shit from what I could tell. Honestly, his scowly face was menacing enough that I wasn’t sure who’d want to.

Khi was the first guy I’d not been able to push out of my head and a major crush started that day. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was distant and aloof, usually seeming annoyed as hell by my presence, but he put up with me being around because of Gabby. Despite his obvious wish I’d disappear, the way he made me feel wouldn’t go away.

And when I found out he was gay, my little ninth-grade homo heart had no clue how to process that information. Of course, that was because I was dead-set against being gay. I hadn’t even dipped my toes into giving a name to what I was feeling toward Khi. No way. I couldn’t be gay, wouldn’t be gay.

My parents spoke daily about the abhorrent sins of homosexuality—honestly, looking back, I wonder if they deep-down, subconsciously suspected about me and put the preaching into effect to steer me back to the good and righteous path—and I knew without a doubt they’d disown me if I gave even the slightest hint that I found males attractive.

So, my dumb obnoxious ass opted to make it very clear I was disgusted by homosexuality. What better way to prove I wasn’t gay than to abhor the very thing I was trying to hide?

With a sigh, I leaned my head against the cold window. God, I’d been such an ass back then. Sneering at anything LGBTQ, making snide comments, spreading rumors. All to take any possible speculation off myself.

By the end of my freshman year, I’d nearly given myself an ulcer with my behavior and trying to figure out a way to go to a conversion camp I’d been reading about. But how to get there without admitting that I needed converted?

My stomach rolled at the thought of how much I’d hated myself back then—it was a weird combination of hating who I was, hating what I was doing, and hating that I couldn’t just be myself and happy.

Thank the good Lord, I never figured out a way to get to that camp. But that didn’t stop my self-hatred and hiding. Although, after Khi graduated, I toned it down in the hate-all-things-gay department—I think since my crush was gone, it seemed like there wasn’t as much danger of me being found out.

For the next three years, I focused more on friends, band, theater, and fashion instead of exhausting myself trying to hide the fact that I found guys attractive. Luckily, my group of friends often went out as a whole rather than coupling off so I didn’t really have to worry about dating. So, I was still completely hiding, just mixed in with a friend group rather than being an ass.

Shifting in my seat, I tried to ignore the irritated feeling under my skin. I hated who I’d been back then and how I’d handled myself. Yeah, I’d been a confused kid, but it hurt to think of the way I’d acted and how much time I’d wasted hiding the real me.

Mostly, I hated that I’d hurt Khi. Or, maybe hurt was the wrong word. Could you hurt someone who hated your very being?

I wondered if he’d ever stop being an asshole long enough for me to apologize for what happened the day he left.

Two

Khi Harris

Of all the damn people in the world for me to be stuck in a car with, why did it have to be Dre King?

The hatred between us ran deep and showed no signs of stopping.

I’d known him for about ten years,