Page 36 of Love Hate
“You’re right,” he said, his tone defeated. “You’re right. I’m sorry. And I’ll try to get over it. Just…talk to me, okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ll talk to you. When we’re done here, I’m going to head to his apartment so we can finish reading Hamlet. Then we’re going to work on my paper. Then I’ll be home.”
“Okay.” But as he said it, I noticed a dark look pass through his eyes.
Mark had a serious fucking problem with Andy, I just couldn’t understand why. As far as I was aware, they didn’t even know each other.
“We good?” I asked him.
“We’re good.”
“Great. Let’s get this shit put away so I can shower and get going.” I grabbed the dummy bar again and shoved it down the hall toward the equipment locker and Mark followed with the ball bin.
I was glad that we’d aired that out, but I still felt uneasy about Mark. There was way more going on here than he was really telling me. But it was his problem, not mine. As long as we could fix the on-field shit, I didn’t really care what happened off of it.
****
“Oh my God,” I said, looking over at Andy in shock. “Ophelia died!”
What the fuck kind of love story was that?
“It’s a tragedy, Trevor,” Andy reminded me softly. “People die.” It felt like he was going to add to that, but then he switched gears, lowering his copy of the book and turning to face me. “So, we’re getting pretty close to the end here, do you have some inkling of what relationship you think is the most complicated yet?”
“Kind of,” I admitted, lowering my own book and shifting toward him. “But I’m not sure I’m right.”
I’d had the idea for a couple of days, but I was so unsure about shit like this. And to be honest, I was nervous about telling Andy my thoughts. Not that I believed he’d come right out and call me dumb, but still…
“There is no right or wrong answer,” he reminded me. “Your professor is looking for your opinion. You can’t get it wrong.”
“I know, but it seems like a weird answer,” I said. “I feel like the most complicated relationship is the one Hamlet has with himself. The fake madness that seems a little too real. His grief and his anger and his confusion. It’s a lot for a man to deal with.”
“Trevor,” he whispered, and I braced myself for the inevitable teasing that was about to come. “I think that’s the perfect subject for your paper.”
“Really?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my tone.
“Really.” He smiled softly at me. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. That’s an incredibly astute observation. And one I personally agree with. Hamlet is so caught up in his head, all the time. It’s like he can’t see the forest for the trees. His misery is of his own making ninety percent of the time.”
As he talked, I wondered if he even realized the parallels he was drawing between himself and Hamlet.
“Shut up,” he said, rolling his eyes, clearly understanding what I was thinking. “I’m nothing like Ophelia or Hamlet. And I’m starting to regret how well you’re understanding this play.”
I grabbed a pillow from next to me on the bed and threw it at him, grinning when he threw it back.
“I have a very good teacher,” I said firmly, tucking the pillow behind my head. “And you’re so fucking transparent.”
“Am I?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, Princess, you are,” I assured him. “It’s all part of the masochism.”
“We’re not doing this,” he said firmly. “Read your play.”
“No.” I dropped the book onto the floor and grabbed his out of his hand, throwing it as well. “You know I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do. But this not talking about shit is getting old.”
“Trevor,” he said, his voice almost a whine.
“You act like you’re the only one struggling with this,” I said. “Do you think I want to want you? Do you think this is easy for me? I’ve never had these kinds of feelings for a guy before. And I’m so confused.”
I really hadn’t intended to talk to him about this tonight. Or ever again. Except that I knew I was right and we had to. It was just sitting between us like an open wound and if neither one of us tried to clean it up, it was just going to fester.
