Swing for the Fences
by Little Buddha
Chapter 22
Technically, it was spring.
Technically.
And yet, here we were – snow still up to our knees in the middle of the quad, like Michigan hadn't gotten the memo. Spring training was in full swing down in sunny Lakeland, Florida, but up here? The only things that were swinging were my numb arms after a two-hour indoor tennis practice that made my muscles feel like someone had tried to rip them out and beat me with them.
I couldn't wait for real spring to show up. I missed the green of the trees, the flower beds full of new blooms all over the campus. I missed the sound of shoes on the tennis courts, the faint breeze across the back of my neck, the way the sun felt when it hit just right. I missed hitting forehands under blue skies. I didn't miss the feeling I was training for the U.S. Open.
This whole week had been long. Brutal, even. Homework was worse than usual, and I'd gone to bed almost every night with sore shoulders and half-finished Mandarin vocab flashcards stuck to my pillowcase. But even through the exhaustion, there was this soft hum under everything – this quiet warmth in my chest every time I looked over and saw Jack nearby.
Because the truth was: life had been glorious lately.
I had everything I wanted. Him.
We were disgustingly sweet together now. The kind of sweet that makes other people physically ill. We held hands in public. We whispered dumb inside jokes during study hall. We kissed between classes. And if we weren't together for more than ten minutes, we'd find each other in the hall and act like it had been weeks.
It was annoying. Even I knew it was annoying. I didn't care.
We'd started holding hands around campus a couple of weeks ago. That felt like a big deal at first – scary, even – but barely anyone batted an eye. Which was honestly a little surprising for an all-boys' school buried in the middle of testosterone-soaked, winter-bleak Bumfuck, Michigan.
I guess I'd been expecting more… I don't know. Snickering? Shoving? One of those dumb fake-bro fist bumps followed by "No homo." But maybe the fact that I knew who led the AL in batting average last season gave me enough street cred. Or maybe it was because I'd jumped into that pick-up football game last fall and hadn't hesitated to tackle Christian into a snowbank. Or maybe it was just because everyone knew I was friends with Christian, and so they didn't want to mess with me. Either way, I felt weirdly… safe. That's not to say that we didn't occasionally hear a snicker or someone making a rude comment under their breath about the "freshman fags," but for some reason, it didn't bother me … much. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." As long as I had Jack, almost nothing bothered me anymore. I was just too happy to worry about the stupid stuff.
The biggest campus gossip of the week – aside from the never-ending drama of who was sneaking into whose dorm room after lights out – was that some super famous TV chef's insanely gorgeous teenage son was getting a private tour of Harrison West. The guy had golden blond hair, a jawline that looked airbrushed, and probably no idea what to do in a snowstorm.
He seemed cocky. Definitely arrogant.
But also? Hot.
I had very much looked , and of course, Jack had caught me. I gave him my best wide-eyed, wounded-angel face and looked appropriately guilty, and he rolled his eyes and kissed me anyway. Forgiveness came easily with him. Probably because he knew I'd be thinking about his lips again in under thirty seconds.
Jack's lips were ridiculous – in the best possible way. Soft and full, just the tiniest bit pouty, like they'd been made for kissing and nothing else. Every time he smiled, I had to fight the urge to lean in and taste that warmth again, and when he bit at the corner of his bottom lip without realizing it, my brain just short-circuited. They weren't just kissable – they were magnetic, like they had their own gravity, and I was always going to be pulled back in. And when we were alone? Forget it. It was nearly impossible not to want to devour him completely, starting with those perfect lips.
Friday night came like a lifeboat.
After dinner – open-faced turkey sandwiches smothered in gravy, mashed sweet potatoes, and mixed vegetables – we raced through the cold back to the dorm and took our evening showers. We changed into pajama bottoms and hoodies and gathered with a few other guys from our hall in the common room for what had become our shared tradition:
Game of Thrones .
Despite it having finished filming several years prior and almost everyone had already seen it (some several times, like me), a group of us had started watching it again, from beginning to end. Heck, I could probably watch it ten more times and still not be satiated. It was the greatest TV show of this generation. And it didn't hurt that Jon Snow was pretty easy on the eyes and had a cute butt.
I was snuggled up with Jack on the massive purple bean bag chair, our fingers laced together. We traded lazy kisses on the cheek while everyone else bickered about which characters should've already died and which ones deserved more screentime.
Mark and Emery were in a full-blown debate over whether the ass currently on screen belonged to Jon Snow or a professional "butt double." I had opinions, but Jack's face was pressed against my shoulder and his thumb was rubbing slow circles into the back of my hand, so I kept them to myself.
Then something happened.
Something big .
Jonah and Danny were sprawled out on one of the couches. I'd noticed they were sitting kind of close at first, but now…
They were holding hands .
Not like a joke. Not like " haha we're being weird and silly." No, like… fingers intertwined, totally casual, not even acknowledging it.
I blinked.
I nudged Jack and tilted my head as subtly as possible toward them.
Jack followed my gaze. His whole face lit up like someone had just told him he'd won a lifetime supply of Reese's Cups. It took everything in him not to squeal out loud, but I saw it in his eyes – the pure, explosive joy.
And okay, yeah , I wanted to yell, REALLY , little goblin? After all the times he teased us , now he's the one playing footsie on the couch?
But I kept my mouth shut.
Because the truth was, it was kind of adorable. Jonah looked so… peaceful and calm. Danny looked happy. They looked good together. Unexpected, but good. Best of all, it hopefully meant that Jonah would stop incessantly flirting with Jack and me and not so subtly trying to con us into being more "affectionate" with him than we were comfortable with.
Back in our room later that night, Jack and I sat cross-legged on the bed, eating a shared cheese pizza from the Grab-N-Go, the box balanced between us. The air smelled like melted mozzarella and crust and that faint, lingering trace of Jack's shampoo.
Jack bit into a slice and mumbled, "So… Jonah and Danny?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Right?"
"I mean, it looked like they were together. Like, together together."
"They looked… relaxed," I agreed. "Like it wasn't a big deal."
Jack chewed thoughtfully, then said, "Should I ask Jonah?"
I gave him a look. "Do you want to be the one to crack open that can of worms?"
"Maybe I'll ask Danny instead," he said, wiping his hands on a napkin. "Quietly. I don't want to jinx it. Or make it weird. Even though Jonah's whole existence is weird."
I smirked. "Just be gentle."
"I'm always gentle," he said with mock offense.
I leaned over, brushing my lips against his cheek. "Sure, you are."
He flopped back onto the pillows, full and warm and blinking slowly. "Best night."
"Every night that you're with me is a 'best night' in my book," I said playfully, pinching his cute butt.
I lay down beside him, pulled the blanket up over both of us, and started planting soft kisses all over his face – his forehead, his jaw, that little spot just under his ear, the tip of his nose. I couldn't get enough. I just wanted to kiss Jack all the time .
He smiled, eyes closed, already halfway to sleep.
As I kissed the bridge of his nose, I whispered, "You're my everything, my Little Prince."
And I meant it.
Even if I still wasn't ready to say the words "I love you" in this new context quite yet. Noah had temporarily ruined that for me. For us. But I still did feel them. And besides, a simple "I love you" could not convey the depth of my feelings for Jack. Someone needed to invent a new word that could adequately express how deeply my feelings and passion for him went. I was getting sappy and cheesy again, but I didn't really care.
I didn't need to know. Like, it wasn't life-or-death. My existence didn't depend on it. The world wasn't going to implode if I didn't get an answer.
But still.
I needed to know. I needed to try to help. Lord knows they had helped me when I needed it the most. The least I could do was try to return the favor.
It had been bugging me all week – the way Jonah had gone from full-on gremlin chaos to something quieter, more withdrawn. And yeah, sure, Jonah was emotionally unpredictable by design, but this felt… different. Like he was trying not to be noticed.
Which was very un-Jonah.
Could this have something to do with his recent canoodling with Danny on the couch the other night? I hoped it wasn't some sort of "lovers' quarrel" or that Jonah had suddenly decided he wasn't "gay" anymore. But none of that had ever seemed to bother him before. Or maybe it was Danny who broke Little Jonah's heart. None of it made any sense. And I didn't think trying to talk directly to Jonah would be much help. Either he'd just clam up even more or try to make a joke out of it.
I was walking back to Linden Hall after tennis practice, my backpack slung over one shoulder and my calves screaming from chasing down tennis balls for the past hour, when I spotted him across the quad. He was sitting on one of the old stone benches near the library with a few of his friends, giggling like little schoolgirls. The snow around them was patchy now – muddy at the edges, melting just enough to turn everything to slush.
I wasn't trying to be sneaky. Okay, maybe I was trying to be sneaky. But I really needed to work on my ninja skills, because just as I was approaching Danny and his friends hanging out near the edge of the quad, I stepped on a dry, crusty branch that cracked so loud it might as well have been a gunshot.
Every single one of them jumped and turned to look at me.
So much for subtlety.
Danny made eye contact first. His whole face lit up as he waved me over enthusiastically. "Nick! Hey!"
He was sitting cross-legged in the grass with four boys around him, all of whom were giggling like they had just gotten away with something naughty … naughty and pink. Like, full-on middle-school-girls-at-a-boyband-concert energy. Which, it turned out, wasn't far off.
"This is Billy, Thomas, Jesse, and Cameron," Danny said brightly, gesturing to each of them in turn.
We were technically all in the same grade, but these boys looked like they'd just graduated from recess duty. They had baby faces and skinny wrists and wore puffy coats that made them look like walking laundry piles. And did I mention the giggling ?
Because it was nonstop . And loud .
"Hey," I said, giving a polite nod and trying very hard not to judge them on sight. I didn't want to alienate Danny or make him feel like I thought I was too cool to be there. Even if it did feel like I'd wandered into a K-pop fan club meeting.
And yeah, speaking of K-pop – the thing they were all drooling over was a magazine spread of Stray Kids . Glossy pages, high cheekbones, dramatic poses. I could practically hear Jack screaming in psychic pain from across campus. If he'd been there, he would've gouged his eyes out with a rusty spoon and thrown himself into the nearest snowbank. Yeah, Jack and I weren't fans of K-Pop, or really any boyband.
"Hey, Danny," I said, giving him a look. "Can we talk for a sec? Privately?"
"Oh – sure," he said, springing to his feet. "Be right back, guys!"
They giggled even louder. One of them whispered, "He's so cute and dreamy!"
I led Danny across the lawn, past a few melting patches of snow and some very confused-looking squirrels, until we reached the old, busted bleachers by the tennis courts. They were deserted this time of year, damp and creaky, but private.
Quiet.
We sat down. The metal slats were cold through my jeans. Danny's hair was all messed up from his hood and the wind, and his cheeks were flushed pink. He smiled like he always did – big, bright, kind of dazzling in a way that made it hard not to smile back. How could I ever not have liked this kid or doubted his motivation? He was like innocence personified.
And then, when I spoke, the smile disappeared.
"What's been going on with Jonah lately?" I asked.
Danny's eyes darted away. He blushed. "Wh-what do you mean? Did he say something?"
"He's been weird," I said. "Quieter than usual. He's not bouncing off the walls or making lewd jokes every five minutes. People are worried."
Danny twisted his fingers together in his lap, lips pressed tight.
"I just thought maybe you'd have some idea," I said gently. "You and Jonah – Jack and I saw you guys holding hands on the couch the other night. Snuggling. You looked… really sweet together."
Danny didn't look at me. He just nodded slightly.
"So," I continued, "I was wondering if something happened."
"I don't know," he said quietly. "I haven't really talked to him much since then."
"But you like him, right?"
Danny looked up, biting his lower lip, and gave the tiniest nod. "Yeah. I do. I'd… I'd like to go out with him … like on a date."
His voice cracked a little at the end, and my heart nearly exploded. He was so soft when he was nervous. It made me want to wrap him in a blanket and hand him a cup of cocoa.
"Do you think," I said carefully, "maybe snuggling and holding hands freaked him out?"
Danny blinked. "I don't think so. I mean, later that night, he gave me a hug, kissed me on the cheek, and smacked my butt. So, you know… he seemed pretty normal."
I barked out a laugh. "Yeah, okay. That does sound like Jonah."
Danny let out a slow breath, clearly relieved.
But then his eyes lit up, and he snapped his fingers like a light bulb had gone off above his head.
"Oh! Maybe it's because of you and Jack."
I blinked. "What?"
He looked almost sheepish. "Well, he told me a while ago he had such a huge crush on you guys. Both of you. So… maybe he's feeling weird about liking me and still liking you at the same time?"
I stared at him.
"You knew that?"
Danny shrugged. "I mean, he kind of says it all the time. I just didn't think he meant it seriously until recently. He was talking about how you were all going to go to the same college and be roommates, and you'd all love each other and snuggle all the time, and do 'other stuff' all the time, too." That last part definitely made poor Danny blush.
"And did that bother you? Make you feel a little jealous?" I asked gently.
"No, not really," he replied, shaking his head. "I know you and Jack are totally into each other, and Jonah would never stand a chance."
This was all kind of … a lot. I'd kind of thought that Jonah had gotten over the little crush he had on Jack and me. At least, I was hoping so. Because if he didn't, it was going to make our friendship super weird and awkward.
It could spell the end of the easy, casual affection that made our group feel so different, so special. All the lazy hugs, the playful closeness—it was platonic, but it mattered. Now we'd have to second-guess everything we said or did around Jonah. Maybe I wouldn't get to have him flop into my lap anymore or wrap me up in one of his constant hugs, or – worst of all – just enjoy the simplicity of his friendship. Because we couldn't keep letting him believe he had a real chance with me and Jack. Not with either of us.
And that was on me. I should've seen it sooner, should've realized the way he looked at us wasn't the same as the way we looked at him. Instead, I let it slide because I liked the closeness, because it made me feel good. Now the thought of telling him the truth felt like walking into a minefield – awkward, humiliating, and guaranteed to hurt. But not saying anything felt even worse.
Jonah didn't deserve this. He was quickly becoming one of my very best friends at school. I loved hanging out with him, stepping into his crazy world for a while. On the days when the weight of everything pressed down too hard, Jonah could crack a joke, pull me into one of his hugs, and suddenly things didn't seem so bad. And now I'd put all of that – his hugs, his lightness, the bond we'd built – at risk. It was my fault for letting it go this far, and I hated myself for it.
So, what was Jonah really feeling? Jealous? Guilty? Confused?
Or maybe all the above?
"We'll figure it out," I said, finally. "Jack and I will talk to him."
Danny nodded, looking a little less worried.
"Thanks," I added, giving him a quick one-armed hug across the shoulders. "And for the record, I think you and Jonah would be super cute together."
Danny blushed again and beamed. "You think so?"
I smiled. "Well, he can be super intense, and he has a freakishly tiny ass … but yeah, I think so."
"Yeah," Danny grinned. "His butt is super tiny, but I like it!"
We stood, brushing off our pants and heading back toward the giggling fan club waiting for Danny's return.
Jack and I had some work to do.
And Jonah? The little goblin was going to have to start using his words instead of just sulking and moping around. Because I was done playing detective.
Well… mostly. I did tend to be a little nosy sometimes. So, sue me!
Back in our room that night, Jack and I were celebrating the arrival of yet another Friday the only way we knew how: chugging sugary drinks like we were fifteen-year-old stockbrokers trying to unwind (well, Jack was still fourteen, but his birthday would be coming up soon!)
Jack had a Mountain Dew, which he was swigging like it was the nectar of the gods. I had my usual Vernors, because I was loyal to my state, my stomach, and my mom's Michigan pantry. The fizziness hit just right after the weirdly rich mushroom cream sauce on the tilapia they'd served for dinner. Why were we eating fish in a landlocked boarding school? I didn't ask questions anymore.
The days had been blurring together lately. Even with our Heartstopper calendar pinned up next to our desks – and synced on both our phones – it was easy to forget what day it actually was. All I knew was that it wasn't Monday, I didn't have a test tomorrow, and my mom wasn't here with another stack of STD brochures and a bag full of free condoms from the county health clinic.
So yeah. We were not going home this weekend.
There was a field trip planned for Saturday – a long, cold bus ride to the Henry Ford Museum of American Innovation. Supposedly, it had the actual rocking chair Lincoln was sitting in when Booth shot him. Which, sure, was historically significant, but also? I could just Google it. Or watch Drunk History . Or, better yet, spend the entire day wrapped up in my boyfriend's arms, trading kisses and declarations of undying love like we were in a very softcore gay period drama.
Spoiler: the softcore part was starting to get slightly less soft by the week. But I digress.
After dinner, we slogged through our prep assignments in silence – well, Jack sighed a lot, but I'd grown used to that. Once we'd showered and brushed our teeth, we climbed into my bed in matching pajama pants (Jack's were covered in tiny skulls, mine had tennis racquets) and fired up the tablet for another night of movies, smooching, and trying not to get caught with our hands anywhere inappropriate .
The other guys were all still in the common room – half watching SportsCenter , half arguing over Uno rules, and definitely not paying any attention to what we were up to back in our room.
Not that I was complaining.
Jack was warm and sleepy next to me, his head resting on my chest while I lazily ran my fingers through his hair and across his smooth chest. I couldn't tell anymore where his body ended and mine began. Everything had melted together in the best way.
About halfway through the movie – not that we were really watching – I decided to tell him about my conversation with Danny earlier that afternoon.
"So," I started, pausing the video. "I talked to Cute Danny today."
Jack groaned. "Am I gonna like this story?"
"That depends."
He looked up. "Is it about Jonah?"
I nodded. "Yup."
"Ugh, what now? Did he challenge you to a duel over Danny's honor?"
"Worse," I said. "He might still be in love with us ."
Jack blinked. "Us? Like, both of us?"
"Apparently."
Jack snorted. "How would that even work ? We couldn't all three fit in your bed."
I swatted the back of his head. "Doofus."
"Ow."
"I'm serious," I said, still kind of laughing. "Jonah likes us – liked us – whatever. But he also likes Danny. And Danny likes him. And everyone's being weird and not talking about it, and Jonah's been a sulky little goblin for days."
"So, what's the plan, Kincaid?" Jack asked, rolling onto his side.
"My master plan ," I said dramatically, "is that you talk to Jonah tomorrow."
"Wait, me ?" he whined. "Why me ?"
"Because you're better at emotional stuff. And because he'll listen to you. And because he literally can't say no to you, especially if you wear that pair of jeans that really shows off your butt."
"Why am I better at emotional stuff?" he whined. "I'm like the least emotionally stable person in our group, I'm prone to fits of rage, and I don't really like people in general."
"Perfect!" I responded
Jack groaned. "This sounds like a trap."
"It's not a trap," I said, smirking. "Just a gentle intervention."
He gave me a look, but I continued anyway.
"You'll tell him we love him. Obviously. He's one of our best friends. But you and I are together, so we can't be with him like that . But we're really flattered."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "And then?"
"Then you say something sweet and reassuring. Maybe throw in a compliment about his freakishly small but very cute butt."
Jack giggled. "It is freakishly small."
"I know, right?"
"Like… alarmingly tiny."
I nodded solemnly. "It defies the laws of physics. But I kind of wanna squeeze it."
"Okay, okay," he said, shaking his head. "And then what?"
"And then ," I said, "you remind him that he already has a boy who really likes him. Who's sweet and adorable and has an age-appropriate crush on him. Someone who wants to hold his hand and kiss his cheek and probably get his butt smacked again."
"Danny," Jack said with a nod. "Obviously."
"Obviously."
"And then they fall in love and live happily ever after?"
"That's the plan."
Jack considered that for a moment. "It has a… high probability of disaster."
"Oh, for sure. It's gonna blow up in our faces."
"But?"
I smiled. "We gotta try."
He stared at me for a second – long enough that I started to get nervous – then leaned in and kissed me, slow and warm.
"You're such a sap," he murmured.
"You love it."
"I really do."
We curled closer under the blanket, the movie long forgotten, his arm slung low around my waist. His fingers skimmed gently along the edge of my pajama pants, dipping slightly lower, just barely teasing the skin there.
And when his hand ever-so-lightly brushed against my hardening little trooper, I didn't push him away.
I didn't want to.
I kissed him deeper, pulling him closer, and let myself fall a little further into the place where nothing existed but the two of us and the quiet thump of our hearts beneath the blankets.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
