Page 24 of For the Fans
I’m just figuring myself out. And as I’ve heard my whole life, from adults, movies, TV shows, etc., college is the place to do that. So that’s what I’m doing.
I’m nineteen years old. The way I see it, I have the rest of my life to be serious and figure out what I want to do as a career. For right now, I want to have fun and learn about me.
You have no clue who you really are.
The voice stops me in my tracks, stiffening muscles all over my body.
I can’t fuckingbelievehe’s still in my head. It’s been like two years since he said that to me… And I loathe the fact that the words are still ringing as loudly as they were when he said them.
Speaking of Kyran, I barely ever see him. Yes, we go to the same school, but we’re in completely different programs and we live on opposite sides of campus—Thank God.
I do see him on occasion, but we don’t speak, or even look at each other, for that matter. In fact, we’ve only interacted once since my eighteenth birthday—when we got in that ridiculous fight over me coming here. It makes me laugh now, because we’ve been at the same school for nearly two full semesters and we never have to deal with one another. So clearly, he overreacted a wee bit in assuming me coming to BC would mean we’d be on top of each other twenty-four-seven.
Such a drama queen.
I’ll admit, it kind of sucks. Knowing my first ever opportunity to have a sibling was wasted on someone like Kyran Harbor. I mean, imagine if he was cool? We could be hanging out, having shared experiences, instead of praying we don’t happen to wind up at any of the same parties.
It’s only happened once so far. It was the night before Thanksgiving and the rumor was that a rager was being thrown in one of the dorms off Comm Ave, which is where Kyran lives. I knew it was a likely possibility he’d be there, especiallyif the party was in his dorm, or one of the neighboring ones. In all honesty, I did consider skipping it just out of sheer self-preservation and not wanting to deal with him talking shit about me all night or starting some kind of fight.
But then Frankie and our friend, Bea, convinced me to suck it up and go. So I did. And as predicted, it didn’t go over well.
We noticed each other at the same time, but pretended the other didn’t exist for a couple of solid hours, during which time I smoked and drank enough that I actuallydidforget about his existence for a while. But when Bea started making out with his friend, Theo, it drew our two groups a little too close together for comfort.
In an effort to avoid an argument and get away from Kyran’s incessant scowling, I went to the other side of the party. I was talking to Micah, who I’d just met that night—we bonded immediately over a shared love of the same true crime podcast—when someone tapped on my shoulder.
And, wouldn’t you know… it was stepbrother dearest. There to fill my evening with rays of sunshine.
I guess I’d rolled my eyes before he even said anything, because his first words to me were, “What the hell is your problem?”
“You,” I sighed, not giving a single fuck, mainly because I was drunk and high, but also because I was really sick of his fucking attitude. “You’remy problem. In fact, you’ve been myonlyproblem since I moved to this city.”
Kyran’s eyes narrowed, and he began to crowd me a little. “Well, maybe if you would just stay away from me, we wouldn’t be having so many issues.”
Closing my eyes, I sucked in a deep breath, channeling every ounce of chill and Zen and whatever other namaste shit I had left. When I reopened them, he was still standing there glaring at me, which proves once and for all that prayers don’t do shit.
“You came over tome, Kyran,” I grumbled. “I was perfectly content forgetting who you are, just like I’ve been doing for months now.”
Micah started tugging on my sleeve. “Um… Avi? How do you know the Eagles quarterback? And why are you arguing with him…?”
We both ignored Micah as Kyran’s jaw started doing that visible tick thing I’ve seen way more times than I’d like to. “I came over here to tell you to fuck off.”
An incredulous laugh bubbled from my throat. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard! You came over here to start shit because you’rebored. What’s wrong, superstar?? Got no one to pick on now that we aren’t living together anymore?”
His lips parted like he was going to argue, but in my drunken surge of foolish confidence, I squared up to him and kept running my mouth.
“News flash, Ky… I don’t want to be near you any more than you want me near you. So if you could hop down from your egotistical high horse and take thatgiantstudded stick out of your ass for long enough to enjoy a party, I’m sure you’d be doing everyone who knows you a huge favor.”
I knew right away that I’d fucked up when I saw how red his face was getting. I could actually feel the flames of searing hatred he was shooting at me through his eyes, like those laser beams Atreyu has to avoid inThe Never Ending Story.
The Southern Oracle. Deep cut.
I’d never seen him so irate. I’m talking big, bulging vein in his forehead, muscles in his neck straining like a prize-winning stead… the works.
But it wasn’t until Micah whispered, “Holy fuck, you about to die,” and stepped away from me—out of possible beat-down range—that I noticed everyone else in the party was staring at us, too. Which was a very bad thing for me… Because itmeant an artsy emo nerd had just stood up to the quarterback of the football team, something that doesn’t happen without retribution.
“Get the fuck outside now,” Kyran snarled. “I’m gonna beat the living shit out of you, Avi. Seriously, it’s been a long time coming. Get. The.Fuck. Outside.” His tone was so frighteningly calm, I couldn’t help how hard I was shaking in my Chucks.
But I stood my ground. I forced myself to stand still and hold his wrathful gaze.
