Unwritten Law (Steele Brothers 1)

Here we go. Again.

I sit against the edge of my desk and give her eye contact as I try to address this my way one more time. “What does my private life have to do with learning English?”

“Umm … nothing?” she squeaks.

“Have you asked Mrs. Sutherton if she has a boyfriend? Or Mr. Hill?”

“Eww, they’re old,” Todd pipes in.

“Old people deserve love too,” I say. “So does anyone who’s lesbian, gay, bi, trans, queer, gender fluid, pansexual—”

“Okay, I get it,” Keira says. “I was just curious, because you always avoid talking about it. Only someone hiding something acts sketchy, sir.”

I take a deep breath and relent, trying it Law’s way. “I still don’t know what the importance of it is when I’m here to teach you guys about writing and understanding poetry, or correcting your horrendous grammar, but no, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Even if what Anders and I have seems a hell of a lot more than just fucking after last night. He almost gave me something that proves he trusts me, that maybe he could want more eventually, but then he chickened out. I have to remind myself he’s not my boyfriend, and we were clear from the beginning that it’s not what either of us want. Not to mention he still keeps running off as soon as we’re done. It’s also confusing as fuck when I see Anders and think of Law.

Don’t go there.

My class is still staring at me, awaiting elaboration.

“But I will have a boyfriend one day. Does anyone have a problem with that?” My heart stops beating. I’m dead inside. I hope my face doesn’t give away how vulnerable I am standing up here, waiting to be judged.

The silence hangs in the air a bit too long, and I think I get out of the worst of it when a voice travels from the back of the classroom.

“The only problem I have,” Colleen says, “is you’re too hot to be single, sir. Gay guys must be dumb.”

I’m thankful the whole class laughs, because fuck, how am I supposed to respond to that?

“I think I’m flattered, Colleen, but I can assure you gay guys aren’t dumb. Which is why I’m standing up here trying to teach you about Shakespeare.”

“Ugh,” Todd says, “another old person.”

“I’ll tell Mr. Hill you think he’s as old as Shakespeare, Todd. I hear the sweet sound of detention.”

The other kids laugh, but Todd doesn’t appear impressed.

When the bell rings to signal my next class, I wait for muttered comments under breaths, evil looks, or plain snorts of disgust, but surprisingly, I get none of that. Now that I’ve taken the fun away from them, they don’t give a shit who I am or am not dating.

When they’ve all left the classroom, I dig my phone out of my desk and send Law a message on Facebook.

Reed: I love you.

I Fought The Law: Wrong brother, dude.

Reed: Shut up. Seriously. I just came out to my nosey class, and they didn’t even bat an eye.

I Fought The Law: Respect.

Reed: Dinner tonight? To celebrate.

I Fought The Law: Twice in one week? I’m like your master. Teacher overlord extraordinaire.

Reed: Do you want a free meal or not?

I Fought The Law: I’m in. But it’s my shout this time. This friendship thing goes both ways.

Something churns in my gut, and though I have an inkling of what it is, I’m nowhere near ready to acknowledge it. The fact I had something great happen and the first person I thought to contact was Law and not Anders doesn’t sit well with me. Yes, Anders and I are casual. And yes, he turns up on my doorstep, we fool around and have sex, and then he leaves before either of us have come down from the high properly, but shouldn’t he be the one I first think of? He’s the gay one. He’s the one who’d celebrate my coming out more so than Law.

I tell my mind that Law was the right person because he’s the one who’s been giving me advice on how to handle the situation. Looking forward to dinner tonight doesn’t mean anything. Law is my friend.

Is that why when you were finger-fucking Anders last night you wondered what it would be like if he were Law?

Fuck, conscience, don’t start with that. Please.

When I turn up a few minutes early to pick up Law, there’s a lanky figure standing in the dark, shuffling from one foot to the other.

It’s not until I pull into the carpark that I realise it’s Davis. His hand fists at his side and then relaxes again in a repetitive motion, and he hasn’t noticed me in the parking spot a few feet away from him.

“Davis?” I ask and climb out of my car.

He flinches and turns towards me, exposing the shiner on the right side of his face.