Chapter Text
Six long, painful, torturous, agonizing, drawling, infuriating months.
Since Winston left.
And ran into the arms of Theodore Fucking Pratters.
The guy whose response to the topic of anxiety was ‘just stop worrying’. Whose response to eating disorders was ‘maybe try a diet’. Whose response to disabilities was ‘I don’t see the big deal’. Whose response to anything is the kind that makes you want to pummel him to dust.
To be fair, I wasn’t much better when Winston met me. At least I wasn’t a stupid asshole, though. Well, that’s debatable too.
I’ve gotten better, though. With both the assholishness and the stupidity. Hannah started tutoring me in math and basic human decency, and Estela often chips in.
And we’re finally fucking away from Mom and Dad. Bryce, Zach, Scott, and Charlie played a big part in the funding, but Estela and I had rustled up a good amount of money for a small apartment.
So now I can entertain myself with the more meaningless concepts of life.
For example. Senior prom.
“Come on, dude,” Scott droned on. “You could take anyone to the dance. Anyone.”
“Not like the people here are exactly unwilling to cling to Monty de la Cruz’s muscley arm for a whole night,” Justin grins.
I make a face. "Muscley?"
Zach pats me on the back and takes a sip of his juice. He never really did grow out of that children's taste in food and drink. "Don't stress it, Monty. Even if you can't manage to haul anyone to the dance, you'll still be one of the best-looking guys there."
I roll my eyes.
When the guys found out I'm not planning to go to prom, they all freaked out. Don't know why. Back in freshman year, they used to make fun of seniors all the time, said it was a 'girly' thing to get excited over a dance.
Things have definitely changed.
For instance: Scott and Justin have started corresponding what they're gonna wear so their suits won't clash.
So many parts of that sentence seem foreign to me.
But yeah. There’s no way they’ll catch me at that dance. The only thing I’ll accomplish is drinking the spiked punch miserably in the corner while I watch Winston and Theo being happily together. And that’s not going to happen.
Not while I still have a say in the matter.
Unfortunately for me, it turns out I don't have a say in the matter. I find that out when Estela gets home from her detour to Jessica’s after school. She slams open the door, kicks her shoes off, and stomps loudly over to me.
Then she shoves her face into my personal bubble of space and says, "Montgomery de la Cruz. You are going to senior prom."
I roll my eyes, and she only responds with, "If I'm going to prom, you're going to prom. I did not fuck Jessica Davis and date her for sixth months so she'd take me to the senior prom JUST so that my brother could miss the entire experience."
Sat on the couch, I'm very vulnerable as she looms over me, temper radiating off her. I was trying to get in some relaxation time.
"You say that as if you're not hopelessly in love with that girl," I point out.
"My point, Monty, is that I will drag you out of this house and across that fucking dance floor if it's the last thing I do."
I place my hands on her shoulders, move her to the side and stand to walk away. Before I go hide in my room, I turn my head to her. "If you find me a date without my explicit approval, I will kick you out of this place."
It's a lie, but we both know that. She grins wildly, accepting my passive aggressive attempt at giving consent to attending prom.
She calls after me, "Don't worry. I'll find you a hot one. He'll be so breath-takingly gorgeous, you won't be physically able to disapprove. You'll be too busy reattaching your jaw to your head after you see him."
I sigh. "Yeah, we'll see."
“I’ll even give you the apartment for tonight and tomorrow morning. I’m staying at Jess’s.”
I raise my eyebrows. But I don’t want to think or talk about my little sister doing sex, so I just say, “What makes you think I’ll need to apartment to myself?”
She gives me a wink. “You never know.”
Can’t wait to see who she picks out. Maybe they’ll take my mind off of Winston.
Not that the others ones have.
After Winston, I tried to get over him through hookups with girls. And it didn’t work because he was so much hotter they them.
So then I started hooking up with other guys. And that proved to be notably more… effective. It started with Noah, then a few other nameless boys at drinking parties.
And that point was about the time I started realizing that all the boys I had picked out… looked like Winston. At least a little bit.
Noah had his hair; he blew me and all I could see was those dark locks. I did my best, but may have blown my load a bit early.
James had his eyes, and I couldn’t fucking control myself. I let him ride me and he did this thing where his gaze would pierce into me, a sharp grin on his face.
The other ones have his… general build or appearance. Can take them from behind and pretend it’s him. Try not to groan his name when I finish.
Is it wrong to lust after a taken guy? Someone happily moved on and living out another romance? Probably.
So I don’t know why I do it. Not like it’s gonna get him back.
I scoff out loud as I get ready for work. Wouldn’t it be hilarious if I fell in love with whoever Estela picks out for my date?
I can certainly hope. Rebounding would do a better job of keeping me distracted from Winston than anything else.
And suddenly I find myself putting a lot of hope in Estela’s hands as she selects an adequate date for me. They better be really fucking charming if I’m supposed to fall in love with them.
Can’t believe I have to walk to work everyday. Just because I spent all my cash on this apartment and don’t have any extra for a car.
I should count myself lucky that Tony let me have the job. He doesn’t like me at all, so I have to compensate for the lack of favor with extra effort. That means no asking for extra breaks, following every rule down to the letter, and never ever laying so much as a finger on his car.
It’s not like I don’t understand why he dislikes me. After all, I’m pretty sure I used to beat up a bunch of the dorks he hangs out with back in the day, and I’ve definitely called him slurs before. How ironic. Because every now and again, we have gay talks.
I enjoy them, but it’s mostly me talking. Which surprises me, because I’m never the one mostly talking in the conversation.
Tony’s already working on a car when I get there. He doesn’t comment on how early I arrive anymore, just takes it.
“Hey,” I say, saluting him with two fingers.
He nods to me and continues working.
Work is nice. It always is, despite the stench of sweat, car oils, and marijuana. Tony and his crew are cool and this work is always successful in taking my mind off of Winston.
The sun is setting when Tony turns to me and wipes his forehead with his wrist.
Technically my shift is over, but I’m angling for some favor.
In a surprising turn of events, Tony is the one to start the conversation. “So Monty. You going to prom?”
“Yeah, think so. You?”
He nods. “Wasn’t planning on it but Caleb decided it was ‘a vital high school experience’.”
I laugh. “My sister is the one making me go. She’s picking a date for me and everything.”
His eyebrows rise ever so slightly. “You have a sister?”
Oh. Yeah. I haven’t mentioned her to Tony at all.
I nod. “Yeah, she came to Liberty this year.”
“What’s her name?”
“Estela. De la Cruz.”
He pauses thoughtfully. “Sounds familiar. So this sister, do you two get along?”
Tony has never spoken to me this much, let alone inquired about my personal life. Can’t say I’m not pleased. “We… yeah, we do. ‘Ve been through shit and never had time to fight, y’know?”
“Makes sense. Shit gets rough, but family gets you through it.” He chuckles dryly. “I once was put on probation after two strikes. It was for my family. Wouldn’t take it back even now.”
He gets it. He’s one of the few who does. Family comes first, whether blood or not. We sacrifice for them and don’t apologize for it.
> > • < <
I can hardly contain my hysteria when I find out that Oliver is the one Estela chose. The irony of it all.
The same boy I got jealous over after I saw him shoving his tongue down Winston’s throat.
Everything has come full circle. All that’s left is for me and Pratters to fuck and we’ll be set.
I guess Oliver isn’t the worst date. He’s attractive, objectively speaking. Nice jawline, good hair, straight teeth. Not much else to hope for in this age.
He doesn't seem to harbor any bad feelings over me stealing his chance at fucking Winston— probably doesn’t even remember it.
He just grins when Estela introduces us, and puts out his hand for me to shake. “I don’t believe we’ve ever officially met. I’m Oliver, pleased to meet you.”
He looks around at the venue Jessica picked out for the dance in awe.
I take his hand. “Monty de la Cruz.”
Maybe there’s still a chance to fall madly in love with this man.
Estela leaves me alone with him. But not before shooting me a wicked grin.
“Want me to go get us some drinks?” I ask, bored and not knowing what else to do.
“Sure.”
Alright then. I walk away from the table he’s sitting at over to the counter where the snacks are.
Pouring us two cups, I take a small sip of mine and— yep, someone definitely spiked it. Doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t mind getting blackout drunk tonight.
I’m trying my best to maneuver my way back to Oliver, but someone bumps into me.
“Watch your fucking step,” I snap.
Then I look up and realize it’s Winston, his boyfriend right behind him.
We both recoil quickly from each other, each flushing a deep pink.
“Hey, man.” It’s Pratters talking. Fuck him. “It was an accident.”
“Yeah,” is all I say.
I look to Winston, but he’s already walking away. Keeping his distance.
It’s easy to notice the wobble in his step, and I wonder how much of the alcoholic punch he’s had. I’m guessing a lot, based on his lazy posture and droopy expression.
Still manages to look hot as fuck, though.
I take the drinks back to Oliver and he smiles. “Thanks.”
I just nod, not trying to hide the fact that I’d rather be anywhere else than here.
His lips deepen into a frown. “You okay?”
A shrug seems to cover it. And in case it doesn’t, I chug down the contents of my drink to make sure he understands that I’m not exactly creaming my pants with this arrangement.
That’s when he stands up and offers a hand out to me like a prince offering a dance. How charming, the way he smiles so honestly.
“Wanna dance?” He reminds me of Charlie in a way. Friendly and carefree.
“I don’t dance.” It’s a simple answer, but he takes my hand and pulls me to the floor anyway.
Luckily he doesn’t make me dance with him. Just kind of does his own thing next to me.
I can feel the alcohol taking effect. And I want more. So I abandon my date to go get some.
I refill my cup and look around the room, taking a large sip.
Estela is laughing with Jessica, who planned this whole event. I wonder if she knows someone spiked the punch. Wonder if she cares.
Justin and Scott are dancing quite sexually to the music.
Charlie is here with Alex, sitting and nibbling on snacks. It’s been a while since I’ve hung out with Alex. If I’m being honest, I kind of miss our late-night shooting games sessions.
I gulp down the rest of my drink and fill it to the top.
Pratters is talking to Hannah in the corner of the room. Where’s Winston? Did he leave?
I down another drink swiftly and refill it again.
Luke and Bryce are chatting up some chicks next to the dance floor.
Hell, even Tony’s here. He’s with Caleb, smiling widely in a way that feels private, like I shouldn’t be allowed to witness it.
And that’s when I feel someone grinding on me.
And it’s not Oliver. Oliver’s hair is orange, and this guy’s hair is not.
I think I saw Oliver dancing with some guy in the middle of the dance floor. Doesn’t really affect me though.
I’m down to fuck someone tonight. I feel the blood rush down to my dick and the ass on my groin isn’t doing anything to ease the situation.
So I pull his hips off of me and grab his wrist to guide him out of the building.
He pulls me into a messy kiss and I pant into his mouth, “You have a car?”
I feel him smile against my lips. “Yeah. You have a place?”
Suddenly I’m overwhelmingly relieved that Estela left me the apartment.
“Mhm.”
If I were sober, I’d probably be taking into account that this guy is too drunk to be driving. But I’m also drunk and I don’t take it into account at all. I’m too busy trying to get the world to stop blurring.
I give him the general directions and we get there quickly. We definitely ran through a few red lights in the process.
I can’t think much. I can barely unlock my door, but I manage it and he practically throws me inside.
His erection is prominent, grinding against my thigh. Wow. He’s really fucking horny, and good thing too.
I push my lips against his, tangling on hand in his hair and placing the other hand on the back of his neck.
His fingers fiddle with the hem of my shirt for a little while before sliding under it and rubbing over my chest. I let out a small moan at the sensation.
He’s really fucking cold, but it feels kind of nice.
Before I can comprehend it, my shirt is off and his shirt is off and they’re both laying on the floor of the entry way.
I lead him to my bedroom, frantically pulling off both our clothes along the way. Our lips never part.
By the time we get to my bed, we’re both fully naked and out of breath.
I push him onto the bed so he’s lying on his back and climb over him. He groans in my ear when I spit into my palm and take us both in my hand.
He rakes his nails against my back, clinging desperately as I tug on our cocks.
We both let out a chorus of groans when my hips snap forward, creating a brilliant friction.
“Fuck me,” he gasps. “God, fuck me right now.”
I pull off of him immediately, invigorated.
Taking out the lube from my nightstand drawer, I violently yank off the cap and pour some onto my fingers.
I place a hand on his thigh and he instantly spreads his legs. Smiling, I press a finger to his rim to lube it well and slowly, slowly slide it in.
If I tried hard enough, I could come from his reaction alone. His hands go to the bedpost and he bites his lip, crying out loudly.
I feel myself grin and add a finger. He’s so tight around me.
“Okay,” he whimpers after a few minutes of prep. “Go ahead. Fuck me. God, shit, please.”
I pull my fingers away and squeeze more lube onto my dick, rubbing it in. Then I rip open a condom and hastily pull it over myself.
When the tip pushes into him, his eyes clamp shut and a string of curses leave my mouth.
I grip the base of my cock to keep me on top of it and push the rest of the way in.
And I swear, I’m in fucking heaven.
“Holy shit,” he moans, writhing when I hit a sweet spot.
I piston into him quickly; I just need to get off. I need him to get off with me. I wrap a hand around his length and start jerking him off.
His back arches and I meet his mouth with mine, silencing any moans.
“Fuck!” He yells into my mouth when he comes, leaving white stripes on both of our chests.
I follow him soon after, burying my face in his neck and spilling my load inside him.
A few seconds later and I’m still coming down from my high, collapsing on top of him and rolling off. I pull of the condom, tie it up, and throw it into the trash can next to the wall.
I’m out of breath. That was the best fuck I’ve had in a while.
I should get this guy’s number when I wake up tomorrow.