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McDermott; not that they had a lot to talk about anyway. He hated feeling that way. Their high school days were long gone and he’d found himself longing for the days when they were more connected. 
    Over the last six months, they’d been like an old, married couple with nothing in common but a thin, fading memory of a time they 'd once loved each other. Casey had fought the feeling, but he knew, no matter how hard he tried, things were becoming routine at the least, and more accurately, fading fast.
    Hunter stood next to him as they repainted the kitchen, the scent of aftershave coating the air between them. It was coming along quite nicely , and quickly transforming from orange and brown to white and blue. The color scheme was Casey’s idea actually. He thought it would brighten up the room and Hunter was game for about anything. Hunter kept looking at Casey out of the corner of his eye as if he were thinking something but didn’t know exactly how to say it.
    Hunter had been acting a little funny since the whole creek experience , and it was starting to worry Casey.
    Hunter cleared his throat, “So ... you like Elton John?”
    Casey thought that was an odd question, but answered it anyway, “Yeah, I guess.”
    Hunter bit his lip, “Good singer.”
    He cleared his throat again, “I guess he’s into dudes.”
    Casey’s hand froze mid-stroke and he swallowed. “That’s what I heard.”
    “Yeah,” Hunter said, the thought lingering with Casey.
    “I don’t get why he didn’t just say it.”
    “Say what?” Casey asked.
    “You know. I hate when people hide shit ,” Hunter said, shrugging.
    “Maybe he’s just private ,” Casey explained.
    Hunter looked him straight on, “There’s private and then there’s lying.”
    “Yeah, I guess,” was all Casey could think of to say, his heart pounding through his chest.
    “I don’t like liars,” Hunter said in a deep, unforgiving tone. "Never have."
    The silence was deafening. Casey slowly lifted his brush and continued painting, as if the last few minutes never happened. He’d heard what Hunter hadn’t said. Someone had lied to Hunter and hurt him. The thought made Casey angry, then guilt took over. He was lying too, and no matter how much he said, it didn’t matter: he knew if he kept it up, Hunter would never forgive him. Whomever had hurt Hunter had hurt him badly.
     
     
     
     
    _________ o _________
     
     
    CHAPTER 11
     
    C asey knew it was only a matter of time before Hunter kicked him out. He had to know. What was that whole random conversation about?  The pressure was too much for him.  Casey hated himself, hated hiding who he was, hated not being brave enough to just tell Hunter—and the world—who he was and to face the consequences. Most of all, he hated McDermott for forcing him into the situation in the first place.
    It’s stupid to cry , Casey thought, as he pulled the covers over his head. This was not where he wanted to be at this age: hiding in a room that wasn’t even really his, blubbering in his bed, and hoping no one would hear. He’d imagined by now that he and McDermott would have kids, be deeply in love, living in the open, in a beautiful house. They would go back to their high school reunion and show all those assholes how perfectly their lives had turned out. What started out as a whimper ended up as all-out sobbing. He buried his face in a pillow that still smelled more like the musty closet Hunter had pulled it out of than it did like him. He didn’t even have a fucking pillow to call his own.
    Knock. Knock. Knock.
    Casey sucked up his tears. “Yeah?” he asked.
    “Got chili downstairs ,” Hunter said, softly.
    “No, I’m good. Thanks.” Casey could hear Hunter just standing there as if he were shuffling around, not sure exactly what to do or say.
    Casey turned his back the other way, staring out the small window at the blackened sky. The stars twinkled and sparkled as if they were just for him. He only wished