A YA novel by T.J. Baer (sequel to Dreamers)
Release Date: To Be Announced
Status: In Progress
Jackson Evans has an amazing group of friends, but he’s always felt a little adrift. What does he want in life? Who even is he? All he knows is he loves his friends, Korean death metal, and Sebastian Reinhold, the moody goth boy next door. Jackson’s been in love with Seb for years, despite a disastrous first meeting and the fact that Seb spends most of his time leaning against walls with his headphones on, pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
But when fate and some slashed tires throw Jackson and Seb together, Jackson realizes there may be more to Seb’s antisocial nature than meets the eye. There’s something weird about Seb—something impossible. But Jackson’s never been a fan of “normal,” so what does it matter if the guy he’s been crushing on for three years might actually, literally be able to read his mind?
Queer Content: Gay (M/M), trans rep, ace rep
EXCERPT:
“Jackson. Jack-son.”
The singsong of Maya’s voice cut into my daydreams, and I wrenched my gaze away from the window. The crowded cafeteria and amused faces of my friends came into sudden focus, and I snapped some I’m-totally-paying-attention-and-not-staring-at-the-goth-kid-outside finger guns at Maya. “Yep, I’m here. What’s up?”
Maya smirked at me from around the straw of her juice box, her dangly gold cat earrings flashing in reflected light from the window I definitely hadn’t been staring out of. I’d been kind of hoping Leo and Robbie were too busy eating their lunches and being nauseatingly perfect for each other to notice me spacing out, but of course they were both grinning at me, too. Holding hands and sitting so close they were practically in each other’s laps, but grinning at me while they did it.
I scratched my fingers through my hair and took a self-conscious sip of my iced tea. “What?”
My friends traded looks, some intense silent conversation passing between them. In the end, it was Leo who met my eyes. He and Robbie were wearing each other’s hoodies again, Leo in Robbie’s maroon one and Robbie in Leo’s blue one, and I honestly didn’t know how they could stand being the source of so much tooth-rotting cuteness.
“Look, Jackson…” Leo smoothed a strand of his gelled brown hair back into place with the hand not currently intertwined with Robbie’s. “Have you ever thought about, you know. Talking to him?”
My gaze zinged back over to the window and the quad beyond it, where Seb sat on one of the benches with his eyes closed and his headphones on, chewing his sandwich with slow, measured bites. And I mean… Shit, it wasn’t like I wanted to spend every day with my eyeballs locked on Sebastian Reinhold—it just always seemed to turn out that way.
Which was kind of ridiculous, because I barely knew him, really, and while he was definitely a good-looking guy, he wasn’t even my type. He was tall and gangly and vampire-pale, with straight black hair down to his shoulders and a long, narrow face carefully devoid of expression. I’d always thought his makeup and piercings and stuff were pretty cool—black eyeliner, black lipstick, silver nose ring and ear studs, black faux-leather gloves, black and silver choker necklace—and we definitely had a similar fondness for the darker shades of the color wheel. But other than that? We didn’t have a thing in common, and his idea of fun seemed to be leaning against walls with his headphones on, staring moodily into the distance.
He did have good cheekbones, though. Like, damn good cheekbones…
I forced my attention back to my lunch tray and crammed a handful of soggy fries into my mouth. “Talk to who?”
Leo just looked at me. Ever since he’d come out as trans back in September, he’d been sitting straighter, walking taller, and facing the world with a lot more confidence. And not to get all mushy, but I was damn proud of him. The guy deserved to be comfortable in his own skin, and I loved catching these glimpses of the new, stronger, more assertive Leo.
Not so much when they were directed at me, though.
I washed down the fries with a too-large gulp of tea and breathed out a sigh. “He doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“How do you know?” Robbie’s voice was soft, but he met my gaze with a steadiness he hadn’t been able to manage when we’d first met, his brown eyes calm under a tumble of reddish-blond curls. “Have you ever tried?”
I sank back in my chair and folded my arms. I didn’t particularly want to get into it, but the truth was that yeah, I had tried talking to him before. And it seriously had not gone well. But that was all in the past, right? No point in feeling bad about something that had happened—what, three years ago? Jesus, had it really been that long?
I folded my hands and stared down my accusers. “Let’s say I did go talk to him. What would I even say?”
Maya tucked a strand of curly dark hair behind her ear. It had been a week since she’d shown up at school with her hair cut in a super-short asymmetrical bob, and I still wasn’t totally used to it—though I had to admit it looked pretty great, and she seemed to love it, which was the important part. Also, apparently her dad was pissed about it, and that was more than enough to justify any haircut in my eyes.
“Maybe start with ‘hi, I’m Jackson’?” she said dryly.
I snorted. “He knows my name. Or I hope he does. Anyway, it’s more what comes after the ‘hi’ that I’m worried about. We don’t have anything in common, and he hates talking to people. Like, look, check this out.”
I nodded at the window, and Leo, Robbie, and Maya dutifully turned around to watch.
A freshman girl with bright pink lipstick and a ponytail had been sidling up to Seb’s bench, and she’d finally found the courage to approach. At first she just stood in front of him in her cute white top and skinny jeans, her blond hair glowing in the spring sunshine, and waited for him to notice her. As the seconds ticked by and his eyes stayed firmly closed, she stretched out a tentative hand and tapped the shoulder of his black hoodie.
Seb’s eyes flared open and locked onto her with the intensity of a thousand black suns, and to her credit, she stood her ground. When he reluctantly slid the headphones off his ears, the girl gestured to the unoccupied section of the bench beside him, exuding the kind of sweet, flirty vibes half the straight guys in our grade would’ve killed to have directed at them.
Seb stared at her for a few seconds, his face an unreadable mask. Then he lifted his backpack from his feet and settled it pointedly next to him on the bench. The freshman girl hovered for a few seconds longer, shock and outrage in every frozen line of her body, and then she stormed off with a murderous look on her face.
“Ouch,” Robbie said.
Maya winced. “Yeah, yikes. I see what you mean.”
I sighed out a breath that came from the depths of my soul. “He’s not gonna want to talk to me, because he doesn’t want to talk to anybody. And that’s fine. That’s cool. Who wants to talk to him anyway? Not me. Hey, Leo, man, you gonna eat that?”
Leo arched an eyebrow as he handed over the remaining half of his chocolate chip cookie. His tone was calm and reasonable, my least favorite combination since it made it really hard to argue with him. “Look, it’s your life, so it’s up to you. But if I’d had a thing for someone for years and hadn’t even had a conversation with them, I’d probably want to actually, you know, do that at some point. Or else do my best to get over them.”
I didn’t say, I’ve tried getting over him so many times or I just can’t get him out of my head even though that was the sad and unfortunate truth. I just nodded and crammed the cookie into my mouth, and soon the conversation shifted to something other than my big, embarrassing crush on Seb.
But my gaze kept flickering over to the window when no one was looking, and by the end of the lunch period, I’d made a decision.
I was going to talk to him. And this time, if it went as badly as last time? I was going to get over him. For real this time.
* * *
My chance to talk to Seb came sooner than I expected. It was the end of the day, and Maya was biking home while Leo and Robbie caught the bus over to Robbie’s place for another afternoon of gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes or whatever the heck they did when they were alone. Which meant when I spotted Seb at the bike rack with two flat tires on his black and silver ten-speed, I didn’t even have the excuse of a car full of friends to hurry me along.
I slowed to a stop, my heart already gone all light and fluttery at the sight of him.
His hands were tucked in the front pockets of his black hoodie, and his headphones hung around his neck instead of resting in their usual spot over his ears. There was a puzzled tilt to his head as he studied his bike, like he was waiting for it to magically reform itself into a working mode of transportation. And really, if anyone could convince a flat tire to fix itself with the sheer power of their stare, it was Seb.
Finally, he seemed to accept that no tire-related miracles were about to occur and breathed a heavy sigh.
“Uh, hey,” I said.
Seb turned to face me slowly, his dark eyes narrow and cautious. His gaze locked onto my face and I caught a flicker of recognition in them—which was good since we’d lived within fifteen feet of each other for the last three years.
I nodded at the bike. “Flat tires, huh? You need a ride? I’m heading home in a few, and I can drop you off, no problem.”
He stared at me, expressionless.
“There’s room in the trunk for your bike, too.”
More staring. Was he even blinking? Was he even breathing?
I was just about to back away slowly and forget the whole thing when his head ducked in a slight nod. “Yeah, okay.”
I blinked. “Okay! Great. Come on, car’s this way.”
I led the way across the parking lot, and Seb followed silently with his injured bike while I tried not to hyperventilate. Shit, shit, shit, this was actually happening—Sebastian Reinhold was going to be in my car, sitting next to me, for the whole drive home. What would we talk about? Would he even want to talk? He’d probably just slap his headphones on and stare out the window for the whole ride, then vanish with his bike and go back to ignoring me and the rest of the world.
And if that happens, you have your answer, I told myself firmly. And you can get on with that whole forgetting-he-exists plan that is probably going to go super well.
I popped the trunk, which actually cooperated for once, and folded down the backseat so we could slide Seb’s bike in. It fit, barely, and then there was nothing to do but settle myself behind the steering wheel and wait for Seb to climb in beside me.
He buckled his seatbelt immediately—a surprise, since I’d figured him for the type to defy the laws of the road and live dangerously—then folded his hands in his lap and stretched his long legs out as far as they would go. Which wasn’t all that far, but at least he looked reasonably comfortable and not like he was regretting all his life choices.
With the doors closed, the quiet warmth of the car wrapped around us like a blanket, and I was suddenly aware of the interesting medley of scents around Seb—mint, hair gel, and a light, powdery deodorant. From this close, I could make out the smudge of black lipstick on the corner of his mouth, the prickles of dark hair that adorned his upper lip and chin, and the fact that the eyes I’d thought were brown were actually a deep, dark blue. I swallowed and forced my gaze to the front windshield.
Seb didn’t seem inclined to say anything, so I turned the key in the ignition—and scrambled to turn down the volume as one of my favorite Dark Ambition songs blared from the speakers. The screams and guitars faded to a murmur, and I threw a wince at Seb.
“Sorry. Forgot I had that turned up all the way.”
He didn’t look traumatized or have his hands pressed over his ears like most of my passengers did when confronted with my musical tastes at full volume. He’d straightened in his seat and was staring intently at the dashboard.
“You can turn it up again,” he said.
My mouth didn’t quite drop open, but it was a near thing. “What?”
His voice was its usual flat monotone, but his eyes glittered as they flicked over to meet mine. “I like loud music. The louder the better, actually.” He tilted his head as if trying to catch snatches of the quieted song. “What language is that?”
“Korean.”
A flicker of realization lit up his eyes. “Your mom is Korean, isn’t she?”
My mouth twisted into a dry smile as I slid on my sunglasses. “Yeah, and so am I. That’s kind of how it works.”
I expected a scowl or a glare, but his exhale was almost a laugh. “True.”
I shifted the car into gear and got us rolling out of the school parking lot, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn the music back up again. This was my one chance to actually see if there could be anything between Seb and me, and no way was I going to waste it.
Now I just had to figure out what the heck to say.
“So, uh…” My thumbs tapped a nervous rhythm on the steering wheel as I turned us onto the long, curving road that led to our neighborhood. “What happened to your tires?”
Seb’s bony shoulders lifted a fraction. “Somebody slashed them.”
My head snapped around to look at him. “What, seriously? That’s bullshit. Why would anybody do that?”
His black-painted lips pressed together, his face turned toward the neatly manicured lawns and houses zipping by the passenger side window. “Guess they don’t like me.” Another soft exhalation of breath, the almost-laugh again. “To be fair, there are a lot of people who feel that way.”
“Yeah, well, they’re dumb. And what the hell? Grow up. There are plenty of people I don’t like, but I don’t slash their damn tires.”
The corners of his lips twitched upward, but he didn’t comment.
Before I could think of anything else to say, the red glow of brake lights pulled my attention back to the road, and I slowed us to a careful halt. A line of cars stretched ahead of us, and as we inched forward, flashing police lights came into view in the distance. I squinted into the glare—and finally caught sight of the wreckage of two cars on the side of the road.
I released a hiss of air through my teeth. “Shit, looks pretty bad.”
I slid off my sunglasses and craned my neck as we drew closer. A teenage girl stood next to a sporty green hatchback with its front end bashed in, hugging herself and looking understandably shaken while a police officer questioned her. A few feet away, a woman with a cut on her cheek sat on the edge of the sidewalk by the battered remains of a minivan, holding two small children in her lap. The kids weren’t crying, but they were both clinging to the woman, one with their head buried in her shoulder while the other stared at the van with a haunted look in their eyes. There was no ambulance in sight, and nobody looked seriously injured, but Jesus, car accidents were scary. Ma had been in one when I was little, and the description of it I’d overheard her telling my dad had given me nightmares for weeks.
A soft, guttural sound drew my gaze to the passenger seat, and my heart leapt into my throat.
“Seb?”
He was bent forward, his long, skinny legs drawn to his chest, his shoulders shaking. His breath came in soft, trembling rasps, and he’d buried his face in his knees. I started to reach for his shoulder, then thought better of it and settled my hand back on the steering wheel.
“Hey. You okay?”
He shook his head, his face hidden behind a curtain of black hair.
“Should I pull over? I can pull over right now if you need to—”
“No.” His gloved fingers gripped my sleeve, his voice hoarse and desperate. “You have to keep driving. Please.”
I glanced from Seb to the accident and made a belated connection. “Oh. Oh. Look, sit tight, okay? I’ll get us outta here.”
A quick turn of the wheel, and we left the accident and line of cars behind and bumped onto a narrow side road. It was a longer way home, but if it got us away from here faster, I wasn’t complaining. I shot concerned glances at Seb as I drove, but it was at least five minutes before he started to uncurl himself. His head stayed down, his face still blocked by his hair, and I resisted the urge to brush it back so I could see him, make sure he was okay.
“Better?” I kept my voice casual, because if there was one thing I’d learned from spending so much time with Leo and Robbie, it was that freaking out when someone was having a panic attack was the last thing they needed.
“It’s not a panic attack,” Seb mumbled.
Shit, had I said that out loud? To be fair, I was pretty shaken up. “Well, whatever it is, how can I help? Do you want me to shut up, or would you rather I talk to you, you know, keep your mind off whatever’s going on? Or do you want some music?”
Seb lifted his head. His face was paler than usual and creased with pain, but gratitude shone in his eyes. “Music,” he said. “Loud.”
I shot him a crooked smile as I reached for the volume dial. “That I can do. Hold onto your eardrums, my guy.”
I cranked the music up as loud as it would go, and the car exploded with the rapturous cacophony of guitars and drums and screamed lyrics. It filled my ears and my chest and the whole world, and as always, I had that sense of relief and release, like I didn’t need to shout all my worries and frustrations into the void because the lead singer was doing it for me. A grin spread across my face of its own accord, and my head bobbed to the music in a gentle headbang that allowed me to keep my eyes safely on the road. A glance at Seb showed him sitting straighter and stronger in his seat, chin lifted and gaze fixed on the horizon.
The song finished as I pulled us up to the curb between our two houses, and I flicked the volume back to zero with a contented sigh. “Man, there is just nothing like metal.”
Seb didn’t say anything, but he was smiling faintly. It was weird, seeing him smile. He looked almost like a different person, and I couldn’t help wondering how things might’ve been different if I’d been faced with this version of him back when I was thirteen.
I cleared my throat and nodded at the two-story red-brick house he shared with his mom. “Well, here we are, home sweet home. You need help getting your bike out, or—”
“Jackson.”
I broke off, my chest fluttering. “Yeah?”
Seb’s gaze was fixed on his lap, but his expression was soft. “Thanks.”
And before I could say anything, he unbuckled his seatbelt and slid out of the car. I jammed my thumb onto the button to pop the trunk, and he pulled out his bike in one smooth motion.
I probably shouldn’t have, but I stayed and watched as he rolled his bike up the walk and parked it carefully next to the closed garage door. When he turned, he didn’t seem surprised to find me idling on the street, staring at him shamelessly.
I expected him to head into the house, but he strode back down the walk to my car, hands buried in the front pockets of his hoodie and head tilted down. I rolled down the passenger side window as he came to a stop at the edge of the sidewalk.
“Just so you know.” His voice was low, and his gaze flicked up to meet mine, just for an instant. “That day? It wasn’t about you.”
And then he turned and hurried up the walk, vanishing into his house before I could find my voice.
T.J. Baer Author Site 