Just Like Us by Elizabeth Arroyo

Author:Elizabeth Arroyo
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, gay, lgbt, young adult, contemporary, teen, ya, coming out
Publisher: Evernight Teen

Chapter Twelve

Danny

I took in the guy in the doorway. A black guy, at least five ten, wearing a thick coat and red high-tops. He was wet with snow. He had a buzz cut, brown eyes, and a scar on his lower lip. The guy probably had a gun, too.

“May I help you?” I felt like an idiot hearing myself speak those idiot words.

“Who the fuck are you?”

I scrambled to shove my feet into the boots, cursing myself that I had taken them off, when he kicked them out of my hands. I swallowed the lump in my throat and got to my feet. “I was just squatting here for the night. You can have the space back.”

He scowled and didn’t move from my path, looking at both my violin and my suitcase near the door. He pointed at me. “Stay there. You’re not going anywhere.”

I lifted my hands in surrender and took a step back. “Look, dude. I just used the bed. I didn’t touch anything else.” I didn’t sound as sure as I had hoped. I was actually trembling and suddenly had the urge to pee. Real bad.

“Who are you with?”

“My sister,” I said, letting my voice come out with a croak. “She left before me. We didn’t make curfew at the shelter. She went to get some food there. That’s all. She’s expecting me.” I hoped adding the sister would make him less inclined to kill me.

“You don’t sound too convincing. You here with Cy? Where is that faggot?”

Cy? I shook my head. “I don’t know a Cy.” Not a lie.

The guy approached me. I abandoned the idea of running for the door and stepped away from him. Now he was pissed. He grabbed me by my shirt and shook me like a rag doll. “Don’t fucking lie to me,” he hissed out and shoved me into the wall hard. “Where the fuck is Cy?”

I shut my eyes. My mind told me to ignore the threat. Ignore the angry face. Ignore the dude getting ready to punch me. But ignoring him wouldn’t make him disappear. Instead, I cried. Yup. I cried. Like a baby cat left out in the cold. “Please. I don’t know a Cy. I don’t. I swear.”

“You want me to believe that you’re on the way out without taking his shit?” He lowered his eyes to the bin. Then he kicked it, still holding me like a rag doll. It turned over, spilling out clothes, shoes, and makeup. I hadn’t secured the lid like I should’ve.

“That shit didn’t fit me, and I don’t use makeup. Yeah, I looked. Okay.”

That seemed to settle him a little bit. “Let’s see what’s in your suitcase.”

“Why? It’s not like a person would fit inside it.”

Wrong answer. That earned me a punch to the gut. A whoosh of air left my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe. The tears weren’t fake. They were real and streaming down my face. He hit me again, then again. “Do you really want to die for that piece of shit?”

I shook my head.

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