𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙛𝙪𝙣

Cami wasn't too happy about me leaving the party early, but she got over it pretty quickly.

She doesn't know about my whole situation with Alex meaning I couldn't adequately explain, so I just told her that the crowds bothered me and I had to go home. She didn't question it further because that's the type of friend she is. A good one. One who understands.

The airport is weirdly busy for this early in the morning. I'm already terrified about the flight but the bustling crowds full of people rushing about, trying to get to their flights on time is no help whatsoever.

The wait for our flight was not enjoyable in even the slightest way. I made the mistake of having a coffee — it only made my anxiety spike. I'm sure I've annoyed and bored both Cami and Lucy to near-death by nervously chatting away about nonsense.

I tried drawing to help with the nerves, but my hands were too shaky to hold the pencil still, so I had to give up.

When the announcements go off about our flight, I clutch onto Cami's arm like a child with their mother until I have to let go when I get patted down, and when they check my passport. Then, quicker than I'd like time to go by, we're boarding the plane.

As I put my hand luggage in the overhead compartment, I can hear someone chuckle behind me. It's a chuckle I can recognise anywhere. Alex. Of course it is.

"Hooking up with two girls in one night? I didn't think you were that type of guy." He says. I turn around to see him smirking at me. I roll my eyes at him, but before I can reply, I'm cut off by Mr Thompson.

"Can everyone sit in the nearest seat to where they're standing! You will stay in that seat for the duration of the flight. You are only allowed out of that seat if you have to use the toilet facilities, to which you will tell one of us, teachers, where you're going." He shouts.

Several students, including me, groan aloud. I'd hoped I would get to sit next to Cami or at least Lucy. Then I remember, I have to share a room with Alex for the whole trip.

Oh, fuck no.

"I'll take the window seat. 'Cause, like, in case you need to get out quickly," Alex says, gesturing to the seats beside us. I look at him questioningly. "...because of your anxiety?" He continues, although it comes out more of a question, as though he's not sure if it was the right thing to say. I stand aside and let him past me.

When I sit down, I blatantly ignore him. Even as we're about to take off and my panic rises further, I don't look to see if he's judging me. I just fix my gaze on the seat in front of me and try to focus on breathing. But that's hard to do when your leg is annoyingly bobbing up and down, and you can't seem to stop it. Or when a sharp pain appears in the palm of your hand when you realise you've clenched your fist a bit too hard.

"Hey, are you OK?" I can hear Alex ask. I grit my teeth and don't reply.

Isn't it a bit obvious that I'm not OK right now? We're sitting in a metal tube, and somehow it's going to stay in the air for six and a half hours without crashing down the ground. But that's the thing; it can come crashing down. How is he so calm?

What makes it a whole lot worse is that I have to sit next to the guy who's made me feel like utter shit the past couple days for the next six and a half hours. And here he is, asking stupid questions like 'are you OK?' when I'm on the verge of a fucking anxiety attack.

"Hey, focus on your breathing, OK?" He says. He stays silent for a while, waiting for me to start focusing on my breathing, but when I don't, he places his hand over my clenched fist. "Breathe." I do as he says and suck in a breath, letting it out four seconds later. I repeat that until I feel myself relax a bit, all the while, Alex repeats phrases such as: "You're OK. There's nothing to be afraid of, and you're safe."

It's weird. Alex being kind—it's uncanny. It could be because he doesn't want to sit next to someone who's a panicky mess for six hours and wants to get me to stop, but his words are comforting, so I'm not so sure. It is kind of hard to believe that he didn't have an ulterior motive. Maybe he wanted to gain my trust again, only to break it later.

"Did you used to visit London a lot when you lived in England?" He asks. I look at him with an expression as if to say I'm having an anxiety attack and you're asking that. He shakes his head. "Just answer the question."

"Yeah, I did. How do you know what to do?"

"I may have googled how to help someone who's having an anxiety attack after you rushed out of my house last time you were round. I kinda guessed it was to do with your anxiety. It's good to know the techniques work."

He's right. The techniques have worked. He hadn't said much, yet he had gotten me to calm down so quickly. I mean, I'm not entirely serene, but I'm feeling a lot calmer than I was three minutes ago.

"Why? Why are you being so nice to me?" I speak my thoughts out loud.

"Because I like you, dude. It's kinda why I kissed you?" He says in a way that tells me I should already know that. "Sorry for doing that, by the way... you probably don't even like guys. I wasn't thinking."

The sincerity in his voice makes me doubt this whole 'plan' debacle, but I can't just suddenly trust him just because he sounds sincere.

"Oh really, and what type of delusional prank is this? Y'know there is a limit to everything," I spit out. I seriously cannot tell if he's lying, but I have absolutely no trust in him. Especially not after what he did.

"It's true. I swear on my mother's life, it's true. I like you, as in have feelings for you. I have for a little bit now, it's why I wanted to be civil. There's no prank involved, I promise you."

"I just—I can't trust you."

"I know. I know I completely fucked this all up." He runs a hands through his hair . He looks restless. Is this true, then? "I didn't intend to catch feelings, but I did somewhere along the lines. No lies, I'm past that. If I could prove it, I would."

"So, you didn't kiss me so you could out me?" I reply, shameful of even having to say that.

"What? You thought I wanted to out you?"

"Well, yeah. I thought you had this whole plan with your friends where you'd pretend to be bisexual so you woo me or whatever and then find out my sexuality so you could out me," I explain to him. I don't look at him.

As I say that, I realise how messed up that is and how unbelievably ignorant and downright offensive that is to think. I know that I was definitely over thinking. I can't help it. I'm constantly overthinking and it's frustrating because then I assume things, which ends up getting me into difficult situations like this one. Alex might hate me again.

Alex takes his hand off mine, and the look on his face confirms my suspicions were false. No one who had a plan like that would be able to pull the expression he has now. Or he could just be an excellent actor.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I do realise that it's kind of offensive to think that. The world doesn't revolve around me, I know. I'm hooked on the idea that you despise me and also the thought of someone liking me, I don't know, it doesn't seem possible."

"You don't think someone could like you?" He questions. I shake my head. My anxiety prevents me from thinking that someone would ever want to be romantically involved with me. "Matthew, there are a lot of reasons why someone would like you, trust me."

I'm surprised he's not angry with me. I just told him I thought his sexuality was fake. I made him seem like an even horrible person than he is. But no. He's sat here telling me that there are a lot of reasons someone would like me.

I scoff dismissively, "Oh yeah, like what?"

He raises an eyebrow, like he can't believe I'm having to ask, then he smiles, "You're funny, and you're humble. You're never unnecessarily mean to people. You're helpful, like I remember once you offered to help someone who you didn't know with their homework because they forgot about it and panicked. If I were in the situation, being the asshole I am, I know I would have dismissed them and told them to deal with it themselves. And you're pretty, and modest, and—and resilient."

As Alex lists the reasons why he likes me, it clicks in my mind for the first time. Alex admitted he liked me. Like likes me. In a romantic way. When he said it just before he kissed me, I stupidly assumed he meant as a friend. But I was wrong. What is happening?

Was I the guy he was talking about during our last tutoring session? Did I get jealous of myself?

Oh my fucking God, Alex Montgomery likes me. He must be pulling my leg. There's no way, at all.

He sighs and rests his head right back. "I can see why you thought that of me, and I don't blame you at all. I've treated you so poorly these past three years. It's not going to be easy convincing you that I properly like you."

"It's going to have to take a bit of convincing," I say.

It's hard to wrap my head around the idea of someone liking me. Every time the thought of going out with someone pops into my head, a list of reasons why that would never happen appears with it. It makes me feel crap. Now this is to do with Alex, the list has increased. Alex can't like me. That's not a thing.

There has got to be some trick in this. I know I've said that I thought myself offensive of thinking that Alex faked his sexuality, but this is the guy who's tormented me since I was fourteen liking me.

"I know, and I'm willing to show it to you. Only if you don't mind, of course." Alex says. We both fall silent for a moment until he speaks again. I'm afraid of saying what's on my mind in fear that he'd get angry or laugh in my face and say he's joking. "So does this mean you're bi or something, then? 'Cause you were scared I was going to out you."

I shake my head, and I can see him recoil, the look of utter disappointment on his face. I backtrack. "No, I think I'm gay."

I feel strangely confident as I tell him that. Yes, this could still be him trying to find out my sexuality to inform people, but I now realise that people knowing isn't the end of the world. If I'm going to get shit for it then so be it. Bring it on, I guess.

He looks momentarily confused, "But you hooked up with two girls yesterday. I saw Lucy leave your house."

"I'm not you," I bite back. He laughs at this, thankfully. "I didn't hook up with either of them. The first one ended before a whole lot could happen because I got way too uncomfortable and had to leave, and absolutely nothing happened between Lucy and me. We just talked."

"Oh. Well, that's good then." And then he smirks, eyebrows raising. "You're gay. Wow." I can feel him turn my hand over and try to unclench it. He laughs. "Let me hold your damn hand." So I do and he threads his fingers through mine. It actually feels nice; like two puzzle pieces slotting together.

I like it. Holy shit, I like this.

What the hell? I shouldn't like this at all. I should be snatching my hand out of his hold and telling me that just because he likes me, it doesn't make everything he ever did to me OK. He was so easily convinced by his friends to fall back down that rabbit hole and temporarily go back to how he acted before we became civil, what's to say that won't happen again? It could and that's scary.

But I have no desire to say anything of the kind. I want him to continue holding my hand. Perhaps now that I know he likes me, he knows he can't act that way again. I think of this as closure to our past.

"I still don't forgive you for everything, though. You liking me doesn't change that."

"I know. I don't expect you to forgive me anytime soon, if not ever. I understand."

We stay mostly silent for the rest of the plane journey, which I'm proud of myself for because usually, I talk like way too much. The only time we talk is when he asks if I want to watch a movie with him, random commentary during the film and when he needs to get past me to go to the toilet.

Up until he went to the toilet, he hand stayed clutched in mine and nowhere during that time did I make any move to let go, nor did he. It just felt natural. And nice. And warm. And, ugh, I don't know. I can admit that I felt a slight pant of disappointment when he didn't retake ahold of it when he came back.

I let out a long sigh of relief when we land.

I survived. We didn't die, and I'm all in one piece. Though my anxiety did increase a bit when we hit a patch of turbulence, I managed to keep a relatively relaxed demeanour throughout the flight after my mini anxiety attack. Knowing that Alex knew what to do while I was in that situation made me feel more comfortable being next to him.

I guess sharing a room with him for the week won't be too bad now I know he's not plotting my demise with his friends. Or maybe he is. I guess I'll find out if I catch him standing over me with a knife while I'm sleeping. But until then, I'm going to assume everything is alright.

With that in mind, exiting the airport could not be any more riveting.

We still had a 35-minute journey in a coach the school hired, so I finally was able to sit next to my friends, Cami and Lucy either side me. It was nice to talk to Cami face to face, although we did Snapchat each other throughout the journey. I would have spoken to Lucy too, but as soon as we sat down, she passed out asleep.

She got stuck next to Lexi, the girl I almost hooked up with at her party, a couple of rows behind me. She was not a happy bunny in the slightest. Neither of them was.

About halfway through the coach journey, Cami takes out her earbud by we're listening to the Hamilton soundtrack through together and turns to me. "Why didn't you tell me you had sex with Lexi Taylor at my party?"

My mouth drops open. "Has Lexi been telling people we had sex?"

"Yes. Lexi and her friends have been telling everyone." Cami responds as she looks over my shoulder, staring directly at Lexi who's sat on the opposite side of the coach and one row back. Then she looks at me and cocks her head slightly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't tell you because it didn't happen. Well, it nearly did." I say, sensing a familiar feeling of uncomfortableness rise in me as I think back to the events that occurred at Cami's party. Then it makes me cringe. "I left before we could get very far. Are you annoyed with me?"

"No, I was just confused about why you didn't tell me. If it didn't happen, why is the bitch telling everyone it did?"

"I don't have a clue. Whatever, I don't give a shit what people choose to believe. It's not my problem. I'll just deny it."

"No, don't deny it. What Lexi hasn't realised is that she's now given you the power to say whatever you like about her bedroom habits."

We both laugh at that. I'd never spread lies about someone's habits in bed, but it is a satisfying feeling knowing that I could do that if I wanted to. If you're going to spread lies about someone, be prepared for consequences.

I say that as though I would do something. I don't have the slightest bit of courage to actually do something about it, so that's what I have Cami for. She has my back through everything.

It's not like I will need to lie, because I probably won't be questioned about it. No one cares about this stuff unless it's downright shocking, like someone hooking up with a lunch lady, which did happen last year. People would deem me hooking up with Lexi as No Big Deal. That's the main reason why I don't care. Other than that, it's not going to affect my life or reputation.

"Why the fuck did you almost do Lexi Taylor?"

I plant my face into my hands, "I don't know, I wasn't thinking straight." I was thinking gay.

Cami has always hated Lexi. Lexi Taylor is the sort of girl you'd expect to see dating guys like Alex. She's all Barbie doll perfect, size 2 with high cheekbones and a pearly white smile; captain of the cheerleading squad and all that; always has a posse following her around.

I don't know why it was her I nearly hooked up with, but I wasn't thinking clearly, and I needed some sort of distraction at the time. She and her eager tongue happened to be there, so I grabbed at the opportunity. It didn't go to plan, clearly, but if I do turn out to be a full-blown homosexual, I guess I can thank her for helping me figure it out.

I hope I do work it all out soon. I can't keep living like this, hooking up with random girls then leaving when I get uncomfortable after I keep picturing a guy I thought I didn't even like as a continuous loop. That just seems sad. Tragic, even.

Cami soon brushes the whole thing off, and we sit in silence, listening to my Hamilton playlist for the rest of the journey. I can feel Lexi's eyes burning into the back of my head, but I resist the urge to turn and look at her. That would just cause my mortification levels to rise.

The coach pulls up outside The Waldorf Hilton Hotel, and there is a collective gasp. How the school could afford something so grand, I have no idea. It is what my dad would call bloody bee's knees.

"Home sweet fucking home," is the first thing I say as I step out of the coach. I smile as I finally get to breathe in the English air properly. It feels good to be back home on British soil. God, knows I've bloody missed it.

After we collect our luggage from the underneath compartment of the coach, our teachers bustle us into the main lobby of the hotel where they make us aware of the gym facilities if we so wish to use them in the free time we get here. Then we're aware of the days we will be allowed in the pool.

As it is around five o'clock, a teacher tells us what time dinner will be and then once again remind us who we're sharing a room with for the duration of the stay.

Due to being stood nearer to the teacher, he gives me the key to the room Alex and I are to share, so I waste no time making my way up to the room, pulling my suitcase behind me. There's always something exciting about hotels for me. I'm invariably eager to explore them.

I can hear Alex following me a few feet behind.

Hurriedly, I swipe the key card and enter the room. It is big, I hadn't doubted it, with two double beds only separated by a nightstand. The carpet is a deep red. Which would be easy to hide any blood, I think to myself. Then I tell my mind to shut up. Alex is not going to murder me.

I call dibs on the bed nearer to the window and throw my bag down next to it before I sit on my bed, letting myself sink into the crisp white bedsheets. I lay back and stare at the ceiling, smiling to myself.

"Sharing a room with you, huh?" Alex begins, a smirk playing at his lips. "This shall be fun."