Page 58 of His Secret Santa
“What’s that supposed to mean?” McKenna snapped.
Lincoln sighed. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.” He stepped around her and returned to the others.
“Where the fuck you been the last few days?” Troy asked. “You can’t seriously still be pissed about the party.”
McKenna approached. “Oh, but he is.”
“Why?” Troy chuffed. “I still don’t get why you kicked us out and ended the party. What the fuck is up with you?”
“A lot,” Lincoln admitted. “There’s been a lot of tension at home with my dad and I’m thinking of moving out. I have a job in the city. Now, I just need to find an apartment.”
Greg looked baffled. “Dude, why? You’ve got it made living with your dad. You got money. Why do you need a job?”
“As long as I’m living under his roof and taking his money,” Lincoln said, “he controls my life.”
“So?” Mckenna replied sarcastically. “He has great plans for you. He’s paying for your college and then taking you into his business after that. You’re set. Why’re you determined to fuck it all up?”
Lincoln was beginning to understand what his dad saw in her—she was just like him.
“I don’t want to be a stockbroker. I sure as hell don’t want to work with my dad. I want to figure out my own life.”
Mckenna rolled her eyes. “I still say you’re an idiot.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion.” Lincoln glanced across the large room. Holden kept his back to Lincoln. He checked the time on his phone: 11:40.
Twenty minutes to freedom.
• • •
Holden excused himself and went looking for the restroom. He didn’t need to use the bathroom but couldn’t take the feel of Lincoln’s heavy stare. It had become a physical struggle not to turn around and stare right back. After four years of wanting his attention, it was pure instinct of heart to accept whatever he offered. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t allow his heart to pimp itself out to the quarterback. The fact that Lincoln continued to surround himself with Holden’s bullies told Holden all he needed to know.
The restrooms were located on the far side of the room. Holden pushed through the door of the Men’s room. A man stood at one of the sinks washing his hands. Holden waited for him to finish and leave, then he walked to the middle sink and looked at his reflection. The person who stared back looked weary… hollow inside.
“Keep your shit together,” he whispered, trembling. “You’re not his fuck toy… no matter how much you want to be.” The humiliation Lincoln caused by using him that way would be much greater than any humiliation McKenna and the others caused him. Tears formed as bitterness seeped into his voice. “You finally got his attention—how’s it feel? He wants you as his own personal Call Boy.” His words broke. “Is it everything you dreamed of?”
A tear rolled down his cheek. This is worse than him not knowing I was alive.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the little party pooper.”
Holden jumped when Troy and Greg appeared in the mirror behind him.
“I’m surprised you had the balls to show your face in public,” Troy said, “after ruining Lincoln’s birthday party.”
A twinge of panic kicked Holden’s pulse through the roof. He turned around and tried to leave when Troy caught hold of his arm, gripping tightly.
“Where you going, faggot?” he growled. “You know, you didn’t just fuck up the party—you fucked up our friendship with Lincoln.” He forced Holden back against the sink, squeezing his arm until the pain brought tears to Holden’s eyes. “Maybe you wouldn’t fuck things up so much if you weren’t a flaming queer.”
Holden shook with fear beneath Troy’s unbridled hate. None of them had shown this level of hate before—that it actually frightened him.
“Nothing we can do about him being queer, though,” Greg spoke up, a cool smile jerking the corner of his mouth. “Right? I mean, fags say they’re just born that way—can’t fix ‘em.”
“That’s what they say,” Troy murmured. “But I don’t know if I believe it. I think they just say that because they like taking it in the ass and don’t want the rest of us to fix ‘em so they don’t like it anymore.”
Holden swallowed hard as his throat constricted with panic.
“But how does one fix a fag?” Greg wondered.
“I know.” McKenna entered the restroom, sultry eyes boring into Holden.