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Part 6

The next morning at breakfast, Mr. Hockey announced that he would be taking a limit of twenty students to a nearby town for shopping and everything else that they wanted to do. Seeing as I really didn't want to stay here to get "pity stares" like the last time, or stay in Kit's cabin moping (I wouldn't give Brent the satisfaction), I decided to go. Plus, I knew the ten or so people who have already signed up only by name so they wouldn't anything to me more than a "hello" or "what's up".

I don't know why you're running away. You did the right thing last night...or was it technically this morning?

I'm not running away. I just want to calm down.

Call it what you want, but there is another phrase to describe what's going on.

Oh yeah? And what would that be?

Pussying out.

Shut up.

I walked up to the table closest to the door where the clipboard was and signed my name. I just want a quiet, peaceful couple of hours to myself-

"Hey, Scout!"

So close. I turned and Carson smiled down at me. It's not that I dislike Carson, just right now his usual, pep-talk mood is not something I need to be subjected to right now. Maybe he knows people who are going. Hopefully.

"Do you know anyone going?" he asked. I slowly shook my head and his smile grew broader. "Then I guess we could hang together."

"That's cool," was my only reply.

If he noticed my somber mood, he wasn't letting on. "Awesome, see you in a couple hours. Oh and bring your phone, a buddy o' mine told me that the town we're going to is amazing."

And see me he did, even though I hid behind the two bears who were going. Mr. Hockey's soft voice rang out and ordered all of us to get onto the bus. I tried to get to the front of the line, but everyone here seemed to know each other and were already sitting two to a seat when I got on. It looked like a couple extra people signed up after I left. I knew only one girl, but she was already sitting with someone else. She waved as I trudged to an empty seat, which stayed empty for only a couple of seconds before Carson reclined on the soft leather.

"You got your phone with you?" was the first thing he asked.

My ears twitched. "What?'

"Your phone. You got it?" I pulled it out, and the web-like fractures reflected sunlight onto the seat. He smiled and just said "Good" before changing the subject to tennis.

I don't think he understood that I didn't want to talk (though I made it pretty obvious by mumbling an answer or completely ignoring a comment). While he went on about Federer and attempting t0 tell a story about how he met him (which, usually, I would be so excited to hear about), I was staring out the window and replaying the fight in my head. Could it have gone differently? What if I had held my tongue and we just talked it out? Maybe we would be able to just work it out like adults instead of acting like children. Or maybe it would've changed nothing.

The ladder.

Probably. This...this is just so fucking confusing. He is a lying, cheating bastard who has fooled around with my (ex)friend multiple times, and God knows how many other people...but, I still love him. Er, maybe love is a strong word. I still want to be in a relationship with him, I guess is what I'm trying to say.

No, you want to feel secure.

That's not it-

"But, hey, he ain't like Djokovic am I right?" Carson laughed and lightly punched me in the arm. The pain rippled through my body. I instinctively grabbed my arm and held it tight, which alleviated some of the pain (actually curing the pain, or just subconsciously I didn't care, that mother fucking hurt). Carson jumped in his seat at the sudden outburst, but gained his composure back a second later. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," I lowered my paw in to my lap and continued to look out the window, "I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"You're arm wasn't like that the day before," he pressed.

"I said, nothing."

"Was it Brent?"

That shot my head around to look him in the eye. "What?"

"I heard what happened."

"How?"

He sighed. "You were apparently a little too loud yelling at each other in your cabin. Everyone was talking about it, well, most of Brent's friends were talking about it, which means everyone knows."

Goddamnit. Why can't people just mind their own business?

"You might know about it, but that doesn't mean I'm going to talk about it with you," I said, a little too harsh.

Though his spirit was not phased in the slightest. He smiled and said, "It's okay, you don't have to. But if you ever want to, I'm here." His stomach growled and he clenched his abs (which could be easily seen through his tight shirt). "Damn, I'm hungry...wanna get lunch?"

"We just ate like two hours ago."

He laughed. "I know, but that doesn't mean I can't be hungry. So c'mon, let's go, we're almost there anyways."

"I don't-"

"You're coming and that's that."

Just go, it'll be good for you to take your mind off things.

I was going to go shopping.

Please, when you shop you think about everything. Go with Carson and just relax with a friend for a while.

I barely know Carson.

If_I _know Carson as a friend, then you_know Carson as a friend._

I sighed.

When the bus pulled to a stop a moment later Mr. Hockey gave us four hours to do what we wanted (within reason) and said if we wanted to, we could stop at a diner on the way back to the camp.

Carson grabbed me and took me to a little ranch-style restaurant, with oak beams holding up the dark wooden ceiling, which sat above the wooden tables and chairs. There was one flat screen TV at the back of the bar which was playing a soccer match that Carson had to explain to me. He spoke pretty passionately about it, which made me want to listen more intently.

I didn't want to admit it this close to the break up, but Carson was, for lack of better words, fucking sexy. The shirt he was wearing today hugged his body and you could see every detail (and I mean every). He was a husky, yes, but those muscles...they shone through. His smile, which rarely disappeared from his muzzle, was warm and welcoming. I always admired his confidence, even more so than Brent. Brent was confident when he wanted something, but Carson was confident most, if not all, of the time. There was only one time I saw his confidence falter and that was a couple months after I came out.

It was freshmen year and I sadly didn't take the online PE class that I should have over the summer. And for that mistake, I got put into PE at school. And, let me just say this even if it wasn't clear before, when you "magically turn straight" the next day, people are not going to want to change in front of you, next to you, or anywhere else. Most of the kids changed in the bathroom until I went in there because I felt bad that some kids were late to class because of it. But, even though teenagers don't really understand that gays don't just wake up and say "let me try some dick" (and let's not forget that I had a gay pride ring looped on my necklace prior to coming out, which was a gift from my friend who knew, to ease myself into telling people I was a fag), I endured that for a couple months until one of the more popular kids spoke for the others.

I had just finished putting my street clothes into my locker, when I sensed someone behind me. I turned and there was James Mccormac, a pretty beefy bull. He glared down at me and didn't say anything at first, but everyone knew what he was going to say (later I found out that they had all wanted to say it but were too pussy to do it themselves).

"I don't want you staring at my dick," he said, quite bluntly.

It took me a second to gain my composure, but during freshmen year I went through a...rebellious stage, I guess you could call it (then got beat up for that and then had Brent, so I eased out of it). I looked up at him and couldn't suppress a smile. "I have better things to look at."

His gaze broke and for the first time since I've known James, granted it was only a couple months, he looked shocked. But, his shock tagged out, and his anger stepped into the ring. He clenched his fists and declined his horns to face me. "Why you little shit-"

I knew that there was going to be a fight, and honestly I was excited. I had never fought a bull before, and I could use my red gym shirt as a cape. But, a muscular form got in the way of the two of us. Half-dressed and steady gaze stopped the bull in his tracks.

"What's the problem here?" the husky asked.

James seemed taken aback. "Carson...I, well...I don't want this faggot watching me change."

"But you already heard him, J, he doesn't want to watch you-"

That was true, but also not true at all(what? I had never done a bull before).

Slut.

Shut up.

"-and I don't think he would want to look at any of you anyways-"

Also false.

"-so why don't you leave him alone and mind your own damn business."

The locker room was dead silent, save for the shifting of clothes and the nervous ticks of claws on the cement floor. That little speech would have worked too, if James wasn't an asshole.

"Look, all I'm saying is, is that I don't want to be in a room with someone who-"

"Gives it up the ass? Or takes it up the ass?" Carson interrupted.

"Both."

Carson's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. "But didn't you do your girlfriend up the ass a couple times?"

When I said the room was silent before, I was lying. _Now_it was silent. James took a couple steps back and stared at Carson. He took a couple seconds to regain his confidence, but even then it fell flat. "Don't...y'know what? Whatever. Stand up for a faggot, maybe you are one too."

"Oh, I fucked my fair share of women. But it's cute that you care about my sexuality, sweetie."

"Fuck you."

And with that, he lumbered out to the gym, mumbling profane things under his breath and taking most of the class with him. Carson turned around to face me and I think I might have came by just looking at him. He was only wearing shorts, a little low to show his v-line and then it was just pure perfection from there (I thought I saw the outline of his sheath, but I didn't think that someone with that good of a body had a dick to match).

He extended his paw. "Nice to formally meet you. We played kicked ball on the same team but other than that, I only know you as Gay Scout. I'm Carson by the way."

I shook his paw in mute shock. I was shaking Carson's hand. The Carson. Soccer player MVP, probably going to be scouted by all the top universities, Carson. Standing shirtless, trying to give me a boner Carson. "Hi."

"Sorry about him, he's an asshole some- most of the time. You okay?" he asked, cocking his head.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. I'm going to have to get used to it anyways."

He swatted at the air with his paw. "Aw, yeah, and that sucks. Why can't people just be treated like people, y'know? Shoot. We're gonna be late, hey, I'll see you out there, okay? Oh and cool necklace."

He patted my shoulder and jogged back to his locker before hustling out to join the others outside, leaving me alone to absorb what just happened.

That same Carson was sitting in front of me, scarfing down rib after rib, only taking short breaks to breathe. The ribs only took him about ten minutes to eat all of them (seriously, how does he still look good but eat like a food depraved wolf). After that, we payed for the bill and we both got up and said our goodbyes. He bumped into me on the way to the bathroom and yelled behind me, "Oh, and don't forget to take pics."

I smiled and reached down for my phone but it wasn't there. Shit, must've left it on the bus.

Well, I guess now you have alone time to think about Brent and how you stupidly want to get back together with him.

Would you shut up?

You know I'm right.

...shut up, dude.