The Pyre Starter

Chapter 1

Packing for an overnight stay was easy. Dakota barely had any belongings, and what little he did own was just the bare necessities. Toothbrush. Toothpaste. Shampoo. Deodorant. Soap. Extra pair of jeans, underwear, socks, and a shirt. No real need to bring a razor, he could make do with a little stubble the next morning. Wallet, phone, and keys went on his person. That should do it.

He straightened his back and let out a loud sigh, staring at the small black bag that held everything he needed.

His roommate—Aiden—strutted in wearing nothing but a large blue towel. Soaking wet, the buff and cheerful jock was, as always, a sight to be seen. A corn-fed Texan with impossibly blue eyes and curly blond hair. His natural athleticism and tendency to work out showed easily in the muscles of his chest and stomach, and two delicious lines plunged deep below the towel.

Dakota tried not to stare, even as his mind filled up with dirty thoughts. Aiden was as heterosexual as they came, but he’d been incredibly accepting of his gay roommate, to the point of hugging him when he found out. Apparently, one of his younger brothers held the same interests, so he was “used to it.” And Aiden never once seemed to be bothered that Dakota might like what he saw whenever he got undressed. It didn’t faze him in the slightest, and it was possible the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

Granted, he didn’t know how much Dakota liked being around him. Nor did he have any idea that the frustration over it contributed to a mid-week bridge visit.

But Dakota didn’t think Aiden deserved to be ogled every time he went for a shower. So, he kept his eyes on the bag, pretending to rifle through it to double check that everything was there.

“Goin’ home for the weekend?” Aiden inquired, pulling some fresh clothes from a dresser. With Dakota gone, he’d have the room to himself—and his girlfriend.

“No, uh,” he answered nervously. “Road trip. By motorcycle, up north.”

Aiden wiggled his way into some basketball shorts and searched for a clean shirt. “Oh, yeah? That sounds sweet. Who with?”

Keeping his head down, Dakota peered over at him from beneath messy black locks. “Just someone from the group.”

“Aww! Like a date? That’s awesome, dude. I’m happy for you.” After a long pause, as Dakota tried to think of something rational to say to indicate it wasn’t like that, Aiden’s face suddenly changed. “Wait, you’re not—it’s not Terrell Redline, is it? The guy with the bad leg?”

He couldn’t help but get a little defensive. “Yeah, why?”

Aiden threw up his hands, but he didn’t backtrack or apologize. “It’s none of my business, but—he’s got kind of a reputation, is all. I mean if you like him, nobody should stop you, but, umm, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“What makes you think that’ll happen?” He overly valued Aiden’s opinion, for obvious reasons.

“It’s probably nothing, but like I said, the guy has a reputation. People get involved, big time, and then he tells them to get lost. Dudes, chicks, doesn’t matter. I dunno what the deal is, but it seems like anyone who gets close to that guy ends up worse off than when they started, you know?” He fidgeted in place, clearly uncomfortable. “But talk is cheap. I guess all I’m saying is be careful, man.”

Dakota shrugged. He already knew Terrell was crazy, and getting romantically involved with the guy was far from his mind. He never even looked at him that way, too busy barking up another tree. “Thanks, but—it’s not actually a date.”

“Dude, it’s okay if it is. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, I—” He sighed. “I don’t know what it is yet. Right now, it’s just a road trip. Something to do. To get out of here for a while.”

Clearly deciding to drop it, Aiden replied, “That’s cool. Have fun. Seriously.”

Dakota gave a fake smile. “I’ll try.”

* * * *

With dark storm clouds hanging low over the scenic Pennsylvania campus, Dakota wondered if they shouldn’t try and rent a car or something. Even with the borrowed gear—a full helmet with a chin guard, an old black leather coat, and a back protector in case he fell off, which looked like a piece of sci-fi armor—he couldn’t imagine riding a motorcycle in the freezing rain would be enjoyable.

And when he finally saw Terrell, his concerns only deepened. He was limping more than usual, and pain shadowed his face. When he finally got close, Terrell muttered, “Every time it’s about to rain, I feel like hell.”

“Can you still—?”

“Operate my bike? Umm, yeah. I wouldn’t have it if I couldn’t use it. And I service the thing myself, too, in case you were wondering.”

The sudden snippiness made Dakota immediately feel guilty. “I’m sorry.” He may have despised Terrell for halting his suicide attempt, but he wasn’t, as a rule, a d**k to disabled people. That was low, even for Dakota.

But Terrell’s expression softened almost instantaneously, and he shook his head. “Nahh, I get it.” He raised his right hand and let it hang loosely for effect. “I don’t have much problem with the pedals, but I use a thumb brake. Just a simple button press stops the bike. I actually installed it myself. Couldn’t find anyone in my hometown who would do it for me. They were all afraid I would wreck.” He coughed and looked down at his shoes. “Probably the same reason you’re looking at me funny right now.”

Dammit. He fell back on humor as a defense. “I’m not worried.”

He laughed, but it was tinged with a hint of sadness. Climbing onto the bike, Terrell reached back and patted the seat behind him. “No, I figured you wouldn’t be. I’m still gonna make you wear the helmet, though.”

“You think I’m hoping we’ll crash?”

Terrell shrugged. “I’m just saying, unless you’ve had a sudden change of heart, I doubt you’d be that upset at the idea.”

Without realizing it at first, Dakota’s hand formed a tight fist. “It’s one thing to want to—” He clenched his teeth. “A crash wouldn’t just take me out. I’m not f*****g homicidal.”

Terrell didn’t seem bothered by his outburst. “You still haven’t told me why you’d want to hurt yourself.” He twisted on the bike in order to face Dakota. His dark eyes seemed to pierce through him. “I’m sure you’ve got your reasons and all, but it’d be such a waste.”

Close up, Dakota could see that there were small, silvery scars arching across the right side of Terrell’s head, just barely visible under his short-cropped hair. “Me dying? I doubt it. I haven’t contributed anything to anyone. Ever. I’ve hardly existed as far as anybody else is concerned.”

Terrell raised both eyebrows, and his mouth dropped open a little. After a few moments to study Dakota, he patted the seat behind him once more. “That’s what I mean. Isn’t it a waste to have existed and not yet accomplished anything? Don’t you wanna leave a mark, somehow? Have a purpose? Mean something to someone, anyone? If you quit now, all you got on your record is whatever you’ve done so far.” Changing the subject, he continued, “We should get going. Maybe we can outrun the storm.”

When Terrell donned his helmet, Dakota followed suit, though he took it off again to smooth back his hair before accomplishing the task correctly. He hadn’t cut it since before leaving for college, and it was now long enough to cover his eyes if he didn’t brush it out of the way. Dakota carefully climbed onto the back of the bike, wary not to jostle its driver or make any contact with his damaged leg. He hung onto the vehicle as he talked himself into the obvious next step. Three full hours with his arms wrapped around a strange man. He needed a moment to make himself do it.

No wonder Aiden thought it was a date. Under any other circumstance, that much physical contact would be the kind of thing people might do in bed, after a long bout of s****l exercise. And God, what if he accidentally—?

Best not to think about it.

Terrell came off as reasonably attractive, sure. His warm skin, crooked smile, and general physique could easily be desirable if Dakota wasn’t too depressed to care. Hell, if the rumors Aiden heard could be trusted, the guy was at least bisexual. A no-strings-attached roll in the hay might still be in the cards if this road trip went off without a hitch.

But they knew very little about each other, and Terrell, admittedly, seemed off his rocker. The last thing Dakota needed was to date some unhinged weirdo with a reputation for breaking people’s hearts. He’d rambled about some seriously delusional stuff. And for all Dakota knew, this “cousin” might not even exist.

With an inaudible sigh, he slipped his arms around Terrell’s stomach and held onto him just tight enough to feel secure. Once he did, Terrell started the bike’s engine. The whole thing shook and vibrated. They took off quickly, leaving the school—and hopefully the impending storm—behind them.

* * * *

They stopped twice before reaching their destination. Both times, Terrell pulled over to the side of the road and hopped off of the blue and white vehicle. He gingerly walked around for a few minutes. Leg cramp, he explained. He got them all the time, especially riding. Nothing to worry about.

But he looked to be in so much pain. For the first time, Dakota peeked out from under his veil of morbid introspection to really notice it. And he felt sorry for him. Crazy or not, the guy at least seemed nice. Hell, he practically threw himself over the edge of a bridge in order to rescue a freshman he barely knew, and now they were here, on the road together, going to meet some mysterious family member. He’d personally invited Dakota. Trusted him with information he considered “sensitive.”

And Dakota didn’t know what it was like to be in physical pain as often as Terrell had to be. He knew emotional hardship, of course, and it ate him up inside, but it wasn’t the kind of bodily betrayal Terrell experienced from day to day. Dakota had no idea how he could stand it.

“Do you take anything, uh, for the pain?” he inquired as Terrell slowly returned to the bike for the final time.

“Ibuprofen if I’m feeling like a wimp. Ice or heat. Anything else, and I’d just get addicted.”

Dakota ran his hand through his own hair nervously. “s**t, I’m sorry.” He had a feeling he’d be saying that a lot. He knew how to be around sick and injured people, but his ability to socialize correctly left much to be desired.

Terrell tilted his head to one side. He licked his lips before flashing a lopsided smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault.”

As he watched him talk, Dakota could see the barest hint of a hole just above his chin. A piercing? He didn’t recall Terrell having one—or did he? Maybe during the first club meeting. A thin metal ring that rested casually on the center line of his bottom lip. Now he remembered. It was the one thing that indicated Terrell was a little more deviant, and maybe a little less heterosexual, than his clothing, mannerisms, and everything else seemed to imply.

While Dakota tried to discern the sexuality of literally every male who showed up to the meetings—though he silently hated himself for doing it—Terrell had been a toss-up. And merely attending a gay-straight alliance every week didn’t necessarily help. There were a surprising number of straight guys there, and even Aiden had said he would attend if it didn’t conflict with lacrosse practice.

Dakota made no attempts to mask the various elements of himself that projected to others who he was. He wasn’t sure he could do it even if he wanted to. He knew he spoke softly, and his feminine facial features—hazel eyes with long lashes, high cheekbones—didn’t help. Contrarily, he didn’t work out and rarely dressed nice. Still, no one in the club even asked if he was gay. They assumed—correctly—that he was. He only ever had to come out to straight people, and even then, in this day and age, most of them already guessed.

But looking at Terrell and watching him—his sexuality and other motivations were complete mysteries. Yet, the more Dakota thought about it, the more he was certain Terrell had once donned a lip ring. Why had he taken it out? He didn’t have it on the bridge or in the few times Dakota saw him walking on campus. And he didn’t wear one now. Obviously, a person didn’t have to be gay or bisexual to wear one, but it was one of those things you could do to advertise yourself to other men. Like a subtler approach than a tongue piercing. Did he only wear it for the group? A sort of “No, really, I’m one of you”?

Or maybe it was just a cheap ploy to get laid. Most of the older guys in the club seemed to show up entirely to scout for potential conquests. They attended the meetings religiously, but when it came time to help out with an event or project, they were too busy or simply nowhere to be found. Maybe that was Terrell’s plan. Maybe he did live up to that reputation. So, he took the ring out for his family, his straight friends, and the general public.

But perhaps Dakota was selling him short. Maybe he simply wasn’t that comfortable with himself. Maybe the club was the only place he felt safe enough to be who he truly was. Dakota realized that he was staring and turned away quickly. “I just don’t think people should have to be in pain all the time.”