Stuck in the Middle

Chapter 17

Once again, I found myself avoiding my room as much as I possibly could. Most of the weekend was spent in TJ's room, which meant I was once again dodging his questions about what was going on with me. He was just another person I was lying to. I hated it.

But eventually, I had to go back. It was Sunday night, so Marc was probably back by now. Maybe if they were both in the room, I'd get out of talking to either of them. But, then again, neither one probably wanted to talk to me anyway.

When I walked into the room, only Marc was there. He was standing at his bed, slowly pulling items out of his backpack. He didn't look up when I entered, not even when I let the door slam behind me.

I cleared my throat. "How was your weekend?" I asked, not daring to even take a step closer to him. The room suddenly felt way too small.

He didn't answer, didn't even react. It was like I was invisible. Muted. A ghost.

"Please don't ignore me." I hated how pathetic I sounded. But it hurt, so much, that I caused him that much pain.

He threw his now-empty backpack under his bed and turned to look at me. "What do you want me to say, huh? That I had a shitty weekend? Because that's the truth."

"I'm sorry," I whispered. I didn't know if his weekend was bad because of what I did to him or because of something else but, either way, I was sorry. It was his birthday yesterday. He should have had a good time.

"Why do you even care? I figured you'd be having the time of your life with John all weekend, since I wasn't here to get in the way of whatever it is you two are doing."

I shook my head. "I haven't talked to John since you left." There was so much I wanted to say, but I didn't know how. How did I say that he wasn't being fair to me? We were never an official couple. He was always kissing some girl. But the second he sees me kissing someone else, he freaks out.

Marc didn't say anything else, turning his attention away from me. He sat on his bed, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it. Seeing him straight-up ignore me hurt. So badly.

So I snapped.

"You have no right to be mad at me," I said.

He jerked his head up, meeting my gaze with his deep brown eyes. "Really? Why's that?"

"How many girls have you kissed since the first time we did?"

Marc rolled his eyes and shook his head. "That's way different."

"How?"

He set his phone on the bed next to him, his full attention finally on me. "I'm gay. I never liked those girls and only kissed them because I felt like I had to. You, on the other hand, are gay, and out all out of all the people you could have been hooking up with behind my back, it had to be fucking John. Our roommate. The one person I absolutely hate on this planet."

"You never told me that you're gay!" I practically shouted. "How could I know that those girls meant nothing to you? It still hurt seeing you with them each time."

"Now you know how I felt seeing you with John," Marc seethed. Then he shook his head slowly. "Actually, it was probably not nearly as painful for you, since you clearly don't care about me the way I cared about you."

I was at a loss for words. How could he say that? How could he think I didn't care about him? Of course I cared!

He pushed past me before I could come up with something to say. But, just before he could pull open the door, it opened and John walked in.

It was the first time all three of us were in the same room together since Friday night. I think we all had that realization at the same time, with none of saying a word as John slowly closed the door behind him.

Marc was glaring at John, who was cautiously looking back and forth between us. I had to remind myself that John didn't know about Marc. I had no clue what either of them were thinking.

Marc reacted before I had a chance to stop him. I barely even knew what happened. One second, they were both just standing there. The next, John was hunched over, holding his cheek. Marc's hand was balled into a fist.

"Are you okay?" I asked, quickly stepping in front of John to make sure he wasn't too badly hurt.

His cheek was just starting to turn a bit red. When he stood all the way back up, he was angry, but his anger wasn't directed just at Marc. "You two are fucking, aren't you?" he demanded of me.

"You didn't tell him?" Marc asked from behind me.

John scoffed. "So it's true. I should have known."

"Let me explain!" I cried. I didn't know what I would say, but I knew I needed to say something so that they both didn't hate me. I ruined it. Maybe I can try to salvage at least part of it.

"No," John snapped at me. "You had your chance. You hid from me instead."

My heart sank. He was right, of course he was. I could have talked to him on Friday instead of avoiding him all weekend. I hid like a coward and made everything worse.

I opened my mouth to try to say something else, but John stepped around me, coming face to face with Marc, ready to fight him.

The room was already small to begin with, and this wasn't the first time they fought with each other, but I was genuinely concerned this time. Concerned for them, concerned for me being in the middle. I didn't have the faith that they would be careful to not mistakenly hit me when trying to take a shot at the other. Before, they cared about me. Now? I didn't know if that was still true.

If I somehow got an elbow to the face, I had a feeling neither one of them would even flinch.

That thought hurt more than any actual hit could.

So I turned and slipped out the door, without either one of them noticing.