Fever Pitch (10 page)

Sagging in relief, Aaron forced air into his lungs. “It's okay.”
Please don't come, ever.

“I already have some files for you to work on over Christmas break. I'm not sure if I'll be back by then, but the other partners can get you up to speed. I'll be curious to see how your views have changed now that you've had some real courses under your belt. You and Bob can trade war stories.”

“Okay,” Aaron replied, because what the hell else could he say?

“I wanted to let you know how proud I am of the work you're doing. You ever get stuck on something, you let me know, and I'll get you through.”

Murmuring a goodbye, Aaron rested his forehead on the piano for a minute. For the first time, Aaron's father had said he was proud of him…based on a lie.

His chest felt tight, his stomach queasy. His time in the practice room was up, so he couldn't hide there, and the rest were full, as always. The only thing he could do was go to his dorm, but that wouldn't help anything. Elijah would be there.

Emily and Reece still escorted Elijah to Bible study. Emily shoved her breasts in Aaron's face every chance she got, and Reece continued to exhibit manic earnestness. The Campus Crusaders had been eclipsed in their creep-show factor, though, because Elijah's parents had shown up.

Despite how unsettled his dad made him, Aaron would take Jim Seavers any day over the Princes. They were almost too awful to be believed, like parents out of a Roald Dahl novel. They reminded Aaron of meeting the gaze of a drunken-bully football player at a rally in Eden Prairie. The Princes were subtle, but there was a knife under everything they did, even when on the surface they were behaving like regular parents. The mother held Elijah's hands and prayed over him, except it mostly consisted of apologizing to the ceiling for what a horrible, nasty sinner her son was, and she thanked Jesus for being kind enough to free Elijah from his enslavement to sin. She asked her son every other second if he'd been in trouble.

The whole time this went on, Mr. Prince huddled over Elijah's computer, scowling. He barely looked at his son, as if Elijah were vermin he had to tolerate. He pawed through every inch of Elijah's things, and sometimes he searched Aaron's side of the room too. Thankfully Elijah usually cut them off before Aaron had to get brave enough to do it. Once again, though, he never got acerbic with them the way he did with Aaron. It seemed from his parents and the Crusaders, Elijah would endure anything.

Knowing his roommate came from deep weird explained a lot, but living with Elijah was the loneliest thing in the world. He bitched about it constantly to Walter, who had stopped giving him tips on how to engage and started encouraging him to ask his RA for a new room assignment.

Walter.
It was too early in the day to talk to his friend on the phone, so Aaron texted him instead.

Walter was coming to homecoming and bringing Kelly along. Aaron looked forward to their arrival like the dawning of a sun. Possibly they'd arrive in time to observe the Ambassador rehearsal, but if not, Aaron would still be glad to see them.

Especially since last night's meeting with Salvo had come with the bombshell that
Giles
might be helping out the same way Aaron was. Aaron wanted to quit, no matter how it broke Jilly's heart.

A text from Walter broke the spell of Aaron's worry.

Don't sweat your dad. We'll be there even if he does show up, and we're going to have a great time. I can't wait to see your concert and take you out after. Kelly's excited too. In the meantime, go talk to your RA again. You need to get a new roommate pronto.

Just reading the text eased Aaron. His shoulders settled into a more regular latitude. Walter would help him sort everything out. Giles, his roommate, his dad.

The Monday of homecoming week it was official: Giles was helping out with Salvo. It was equally official that trying to bail on Jilly would be not only rude and cruel to his best friend at Saint Timothy but possibly even more uncomfortable than dealing with Giles. After the auditions on Tuesday though, sitting with Giles at a table and trying not to touch him or look at him or smell him, Aaron was seriously ready for a drink. A lot of drinks.

Unfortunately, he didn't know anyone who could get him alcohol.

On Wednesday, Aaron called Walter to confirm their plans and maybe get some advance help on the Giles-Salvo situation, but Walter didn't answer, and Aaron's texts went without reply as well. Not even several hours later. At midnight Aaron gave up waiting and went to bed.

Elijah sat at his desk, scribbling in a notebook as per usual.

Aaron slept fitfully, waking at 3:00 a.m., his brain a frazzled mess. Had he done something to upset Walter? Did Walter hate him now too? The thought cramped his stomach, and he curled into a ball until at last sleep claimed him. His dreams were sharp and strange—he kept kissing Giles, their clothes melting away as they made out, but Giles broke away and stood over him, telling him he was awful in bed. Walter sometimes appeared too, frowning as he spoke in Jim Seavers's voice. “I'm disappointed in you, Aaron.”

When he woke at six thirty coated in sweat, Elijah sat at his desk, watching Aaron with an odd expression. For an awkward moment they stared at each other.

Then it got weird, because they had an actual conversation.

“What were you dreaming?” Elijah asked.

About my pathetic crush, nude and judging me.
“Nothing.”

Elijah's dark gaze made Aaron squirm. “You were calling out to someone. You were upset. I thought you might have said…”

He trailed off, but his stare grew even more intense. Like next he'd get his scalpel and cut Aaron open to find the truth.

Good Christ, Aaron must have been calling out to Giles. Or Walter. “I can't remember. Sorry I disturbed you.”

Elijah clearly didn't buy this, and now
he
looked frustrated. “You were begging for something. Some
one
.”

Aaron climbed out of bed. “I'm going to go shower.”

Gathering his soap and towel, he went down to the showers to escape, and thankfully he had the room to himself when he returned. Unfortunately, he'd also missed Walter's call. Relief flooded him as he dialed the number.

“Aaron.” Walter sounded worn and frazzled, and there was weird activity in the background. “I meant to call, but things got crazy. Kelly had an allergic reaction last night.”

Aaron's heart lurched. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah. He had a cold to start, ate some almond by mistake, and somehow it all turned into this batshit asthma attack.” Walter's voice wavered, and it was clear he was barely holding it together. “He's going to be okay, but it was awful to watch. I don't think I handled it well.” He paused. “Okay, I handled it so badly they had to sedate
me
.”

Aaron ached for his friend. “I'm glad he's going to be okay. I wish I could help you, both of you.”

This pause was heavy, and with a sinking heart, Aaron realized what was coming.

“Aaron—I'm sorry, but I can't come this weekend. I feel terrible, and I want you to know I was looking forward to it. A lot. They're letting Kelly out in a few hours, but he's supposed to rest, and I can't—”

Aaron forced the words out. “Of course you can't leave him, and he shouldn't come here.”

“I keep trying to figure out a way to make it work, but I only run around in circles.”

Aaron swallowed his disappointment. “Don't worry about it. We'll do it another time.”

“I'm
so sorry
.”

Aaron tried to laugh. He sucked at it. “Right, because Kelly had a reaction on purpose.”

“
Kelly
keeps trying to argue we should come. He hates it when his allergies get in the way of his life.”

“Seriously. It's okay. When things calm down, try another weekend. I'll still be here.”

Walter apologized for another five minutes, and Aaron continued to lie and tell him he didn't mind at all. The only reason the cycle broke was because a nurse needed Walter, and he hung up promising he would call a thousand times in the next three days, a promise Aaron desperately wanted but refused to accept. “Take care of your fiancé,” he urged Walter.

After ending the call, Aaron stared sadly at the phone for a few seconds. Then he gathered his books for his classes and got ready to go to his lessons. He was halfway down the hall when a guy stumbled into him, murmuring something about music fags. Aaron ignored him.

On the stairs, however, he started to cry.

The tears came out of nowhere—it wasn't as if he'd been holding them back, they simply materialized out of thin air. His sinuses swelled, his eyes pooled and tears spilled over in a steady, silent stream down his cheeks. It was mortifying. Unnerving too, because it was almost as if some other part of him had pulled an override switch. He didn't know the origin of the tears, so he didn't know how to return to neutral.

Worst of all, now that the dam was breached, he could not stop.

He wandered aimlessly across campus, trying to clear his head, but nothing worked. The tears wouldn't even slow down. Eventually he headed to the music building, opting to enter via the back door so he could linger in an access hallway behind the orchestra and choir rooms. The din of students filtered down the passage, and Aaron still couldn't calm down. Great, now the music department had front-row seats for his meltdown.

As if he didn't have enough on his plate, his phone chimed a reminder for his lesson with Nussy in thirty minutes. Aaron was still crying with no sign of stopping. Nussy would ask him what was wrong, and Aaron would die of mortification.

The dark thought settled like a seed.

Who would miss him? Walter, maybe, but he was a burden to his friend more than anything else, simply one more someone to worry about. Jilly would be sad, but she had no idea he was this hot a mess. Certainly she didn't need him for Salvo, not with Giles. Nussy would be sorry, but sometimes Aaron wasn't sure he could be the person Nussy thought he was, any more than he could be the person his father wanted.

In the end thoughts of suicide only made him weep more deeply, because he knew even if a polite cupcake à la
Alice in Wonderland
appeared, labeled
Eat me to die quickly and peacefully,
he wouldn't have the guts to pick it up. He didn't have the guts to do anything. Not to select his own major, not to decide for himself to audition for choir, not to admit to Walter it hurt him all the way to his soul to be alone this weekend. He fucked up everything, because he was a stupid, worthless, nauseating
wimp
no one could love, because he wasn't anyone at all.

Aaron pressed his face to his knees, rocking back and forth in a pathetic attempt to calm himself. His hysteria cycled higher until he was no more than a snotty, inglorious heap of emotional exhaustion.

It took the person shaking him several tries to penetrate his haze. Aaron lifted his head and stared, horrified, into the worried, clean-cut face of Damien, the choral student director.

Chap
ter Ten

Dami
en Norling was a senior, another first tenor and pretty much a walking ad for the kind of put-together person Aaron wished he could be. He was so amazing he already had a fiancé, a pretty junior named Stevie who lived and breathed elementary education. Now Damien watched snot drip out of Aaron's nose and into his mouth as he drew ragged, shallow breaths. If the death cupcake had been present, Aaron would have gobbled it up.

“I'm fine,” Aaron tried to say, but mostly he choked and wheezed up more snot. Wincing, he buried his face in his hands because it was the only way left to hide. “Oh God, I'm so sorry.”

Damien's hand rested in a comforting gesture on Aaron's shoulder. “What happened? Something at school? Bad news from home?”

Never had Aaron felt more ridiculous. “It's n-nothing.”

“Whatever's bothering you sounds about as far from nothing as anything I've seen in a long time.”

Aaron's despair was a gas station road map he couldn't put back together. “I c-can't stop c-crying.”

“Oh, buddy. Is there someone I can call for you?”

This of course was only additional fodder for Aaron's emotional compost heap. “No.” The next sob hurt his chest, the muscles spasming from overuse. “I'm so sorry.”

“Why do you keep apologizing?”

“Because I'm crying like an idiot.”

“I hate to break it to you, but we've all cried like idiots. Ask Marius about my mental breakdown this summer when they screwed up my clinical rotation.”

“This is for a st-stupid r-reason. This is because I'm…l-lonely.”

To his surprise, Damien seemed almost chagrined. “I'll be damned. Baz was right.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Nussy ordained you wunderkind, and we all accepted that and made our assumptions. Except Baz, who's argued for weeks something was off.”

The realization his mental health was the speculation of so many people added new layers to Aaron's mortification.

Damien had gone from chagrined to guilty and awkward. “I should have seen this. I can't believe
I
fell for Nussy's shit, because usually I'm the first one in there calling his mad bluff, but no. If you're gay too, there's going to be
no
living with Baz.” Color faded from his face. “Oh shit, I should
not
have said that out loud.”

Weirdly, Damien's fumble made Aaron smile. “It's okay. Yeah…I'm gay.”

“Awesome. I mean—I'm glad—” He winced and glanced at the ceiling. “Jesus, I suck at this.”

Now Aaron laughed. “You're doing pretty well, actually.”

Damien's expression told him he didn't buy it. “What I meant is, I don't care that you're gay, and neither will anybody in the music department. If they do, Baz will probably set fire to them.
He's
gay, if you haven't sussed that one out. I would not, however, advise you to date him.”

“I haven't dated anybody, only two girls who were mistakes.” Aaron couldn't stop his mouth. “I don't really have any friends. Just one. He was supposed to come this weekend, but his boyfriend got sick.” He stared fixedly at his knees. “I guess I was looking forward to it a little too much.”

“There's no too much when it comes to the people we care for. But what do you mean, you don't have friends? You practically have a fan club.” He stopped, frowning. “
Oh.
That's why you don't have friends here. Goddamn you, Nussy, and goddamn me for not figuring it out. I'm sorry.”

How Aaron's pathetic life was the fault of either Dr. Nussenbaum or Damien was unclear, but Aaron was too worn-out to argue. He glanced down at his phone. “I'm supposed to be at my lesson right now.”

“Fuck your lesson. You're coming to the White House, and I'm making you lunch. Baz ought to be there, and he can lord over me about how right he was and what an idiot I've been. You can help us plan the karaoke party Baz is desperate to have. It'll be great.” He nudged Aaron with his elbow. “Come on. I'll call Olivia for you and have her spread the word we won't be in any lessons or classes until choir, and you and I and probably Baz and Marius will spend the afternoon together. Three new friends, coming up.”

More tears leaked out of Aaron's eyes, but his sobs were fully tamed. He smiled at Damien. “Thanks.”

“No thanks necessary.” Damien stood and held out a hand to Aaron. “Let's get out of here. As it happens, I know a secret way out that should let us avoid most of your paparazzi.”

By Fr
iday of homecoming week, Giles was completely confused.

At the Salvo auditions on Tuesday, Aaron hadn't been stiff or catty to him. If anything, he'd been nervous. Hesitant, timid like a rabbit. Weirder yet, twice Giles could have sworn Aaron was cruising him in the same hesitant way.

On Thursday he saw Aaron and Damien in the hall, Damien's arm around Aaron as he spoke in hushed tones, and Aaron seemed kind of upset. Giles wondered if something was wrong, but if it was, it was fixed by Friday. When he went to orchestra rehearsal, the Ambassadors were heading down the chorus hallway for their own practice, Aaron laughing and beaming as he was frog-marched by Baz on one side, Damien on the other, Marius pretending to drive them like a chariot from behind.

The four of them were so hot together Giles tripped.

He didn't have any sexy escorts to his rehearsal. He had
alumni
.

When the former orchestra members filed into the rehearsal hall, Giles was annoyed. He didn't want to perform for strangers reliving glory days. They weren't as intrusive as he'd feared, though. Dr. Allison welcomed them, some by name, but the alumni were universally reserved. They applauded after each piece, but they said almost nothing, even when Allison prompted them to engage.

Before the orchestra rehearsed the last song, Allison had the alumni stand and give their year of graduation, their major and what they were doing now. It seriously scared Giles how many of the recent grads had no job at all. Those who were employed hardly ever had jobs correlating with their college studies. Biology majors sold insurance. French majors worked at Target corporate. Social work majors worked as bank tellers. A few of them lined up, but by and large, no.

After they'd all been introduced, Allison invited the alumni to join rehearsal for “Canon”. Only about half of them accepted his invitation.

A thirty-year-old woman with a blunt-edged haircut and severe blonde highlights drew up a chair next to Giles. When Allison counted them in, Giles's stand partner focused on the conductor, playing each note of the song as if it had come out of her soul. When she lowered her instrument to her lap at the end, she had tears in her eyes.

This was probably the first time she'd played since college. Someday Giles would be in the back of the room, watching a strange sea of students play where he'd once sat. He thought about not playing violin every day, of having a job he hadn't planned on, or no job at all, coming to a place that had once been a second home…knowing it could never be home again.

When the woman thanked Giles for letting her sit by him, he told her it was his pleasure and he looked forward to playing with her at the concert.

He went to a dorm party with Mina—who couldn't stop smiling, because she'd officially made it into Salvo that day—but he kept thinking about the alumni, wondering where they were tonight. Hotel rooms, he supposed. Were there alumni parties? Was it like the movies where people stood around with punch and sagging streamers, everyone bald or with gray hair?

Dear God, he hoped not.

Someday he'd be an alumnus returned. The warm feeling he had when he was in rehearsal, the sense of family and community he'd developed with Brian and Mina and their ragtag group of friends, not quite as cool as choir people but still pretty awesome—it would end, and they'd all move away. Giles would marry some guy or live in an apartment alone.

What would Aaron do? Who would he end up with?

Why could Giles not stop thinking about him?

Why had Aaron looked at him that way at tryouts?

Had Mina been right? Had Giles been wrong?

His melancholy lingered as he walked through the campus carnival the next morning. Every time he saw alumni, he had the same pang of regret. He had to walk against the tide of them as they went to the football game and he went to beat one last round of practice out, and he carried their wistful nostalgia with him all the way to rehearsal.

As he played that afternoon, for the first time since he'd joined chamber he didn't fumble and freak at the difficult measures. He thought of his alumni stand partner and soared through the runs, sang out on the held notes, each thrum of vibrato for her and the others not brave enough to rejoin the orchestra.

I hear you. I see you. I play for you.

The concert was a real monster: combined choir and orchestra, with all the small groups in between. During his quartet he saw his mom and dad and brother in the front row, smartphones poised as they took video and pictures. Giles spotted his stand partner in the audience.

Someday Giles would watch with her instead of playing. Someday much sooner than he was ready to think about.

Giles's quartet exited with a bow, and the Ambassadors came onto the stage.

For as much as Giles wanted to hate them, when they started to sing, he couldn't. It hurt nothing that the guys were all hot, all bright and full of life and joy, but they were talented too, carrying energy and vibrancy Giles doubted strings could ever capture. The audience had liked the chamber orchestra, but they loved the Ambassadors. Giles had to admit he did too. The melancholy he carried bled away when the boys bopped around the stage. Even the gag-me Cody Simpson song made Giles feel better.

Maybe
this
was why everyone loved them.

They started their final number, Aaron taking the solo on “Somewhere Only We Know”—and the last icicles inside Giles melted.

Everyone gushed and carried on as if Aaron singing was the second coming of Christ. Giles had written it off as hyperbole. But when Aaron sang, soul shining through the music, Giles realized they'd undersold him. Aaron was
amazing
. Aaron could start and end wars with his voice, could move a stone to tears.

Maybe Aaron hadn't rejected Giles because he was scared of being gay—maybe he'd simply been scared. Maybe it was because Giles wasn't right for him, or Aaron wasn't ready.

But as the song went on, as Aaron's high notes made Giles shiver, he remembered what he'd seen in Aaron's longing gazes as they worked on Salvo. Aaron's singing undid Giles's cynical heart, and despite himself, he began to believe.

Maybe there was a chance after all.

I have to talk to him.
The thought resonated as the orchestra took their place for “Canon”.
I have to go to him, now, and talk to him. Tell him. Find out if I'm right.

The thought echoed as he played the song. When it was finished, his stand partner rose with tears in her eyes. Giles hugged her, accepted her thanks again and bounded off the stage, tucking his violin under his arm as his pulse kicked at his ears.

I can't waste time. I have to talk to him now. Right now.

Giles fought his way through the crowd, waving an
in a minute
gesture at his parents. He kept going until he was in the lobby, until he saw Aaron's dark head of hair and those bright blue eyes, his shy, sweet smile. Aaron stood smiling and talking with guys from the Ambassadors, ducking his head and blushing at something they said.

Giles's grip on his instrument slipped as he approached. He'd figure out what to say when he got there. He had to find out if the boy who stole his heart, who lived in that song, was real. He
had to do this
.

The crush of bodies was too thick to pass through, Giles's dream a horrible reality. By the time he reached the lobby where Aaron had been, Giles saw him disappearing through the door.

Disappearing with Baz, arm around Aaron's waist. Hand resting on Aaron's ass.

Baz leaned down to whisper something, and when Aaron laughed shyly, Baz moved his hand lower and squeezed.

The euphoric rush carrying Giles forward crashed like glass around his feet.

Too late.
Whether or not Giles would have had a chance, it was too late now. He'd done exactly what Mina had said he would do, and now it was too late.