Train to Somewhere

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  More from Susan Laine

  About the Author

  By Susan Laine

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  Train to Somewhere

  By Susan Laine

  A Before… and After Story

  It was only a game. Wasn’t it?

  At a party one night, Charlie Dean’s childhood friend Will Tucker accepts a dare and dresses up as a girl: clothes, hair, makeup. Seeing Will that way incites a riot of confused emotions in Charlie—and he responds by lashing out. He never meant to hurt Will, and now he must do some serious damage control.

  During a school trip by train, Charlie and Will share a sleeper cabin. Charlie intends to mend fences, while Will figures it’s as good a time as any to broach the subjects of attraction and sexuality. They want to get their relationship back on track. But after the secrets they both reveal, their friendship can never be the same.

  Chapter 1

  “WHAT THE hell are they doing upstairs anyway?” Miles asked, straining his neck to look up the stairs to the second floor, but having a hard time. He couldn’t possibly see anything from the couch. Wrong angle, Charlie estimated.

  Charlie shrugged. “The girls’ll undoubtedly have him naked and on top of them by now.”

  The guys laughed. “Yeah, right. That boy? The only place he’s naked is in a bath covered in bubbles so no one can see his tiny pecker,” Steve sang to the carol of “Deck the Halls.” Well, hummed out of tune, since fitting the words to the melody proved challenging.

  Miles and Steve bumped knuckles at the burn.

  Charlie smirked. “I dunno. I’ve seen the dude’s dick, and I promise you… it ain’t tiny.”

  Aidan’s eyes widened. “No shit? Huh. Guess you never know with nerds.”

  “He’s not a nerd,” Charlie countered. “He’s a dweeb. Our dweeb.”

  Everyone chortled like hyenas. Then again, they were all pretty drunk.

  Thanks to the playful deviousness of their girlfriends, the game of Truth or Dare had gone down a dangerous path. Aidan was covered in toilet paper from head to toe like a mummy, Steve had to sing everything he said to Christmas carols, Miles’s shoulder-length hair had been braided by the girls in a dozen different ways with a dozen different-colored ribbons, Ricky wore bunny-themed pj’s spattered with hot sauce he’d spit out when he’d been unable to swallow, and Charlie himself had the words “I’m a dork” written on his forehead with red permanent marker.

  “You sure he’s not, like, a geek?” Steve singsonged to “Jingle Bells.”

  “I thought he was more of a goober,” Miles quipped, a blue ribbon falling over his eyes.

  “You’re a fucking goober,” Ricky said with a laugh, punching his friend on the arm. “What Cassie sees in you is a mystery.”

  Miles grabbed his junk through his jeans. “This is what, you doofus.”

  “You’re a doofus.” Ricky smacked Miles over the head, and a couple of ribbons came loose and floated to the floor.

  Then both of them hit the floor as well, fighting and yelling.

  Charlie rolled his eyes. They were all wasted. The girls had better return soon.

  “Are they coming back tonight, or what?” Steve inquired, singing to “O Christmas Tree.”

  Charlie glanced in the direction of the stairs but saw no one. No sign of Will, who’d lost a dare to Ashley. She’d conferred with her ladies, who’d plotted and whispered for a whole minute or two. Then they’d whisked Will upstairs. That had been twenty minutes ago. They’d seen neither hide nor hair of him since.

  Finally, lively chatter and a chorus of titters grew louder. The boys all faced the stairs to see what fate had befallen their comrade in arms.

  Ashley descended the stairs first, eyes glowing, lips in a wide grin. The other girls followed after her like a royal entourage, all of them simpering and murmuring.

  Then Ashley waved behind her theatrically. “Boys, say hello to… Willow.”

  The sea of girls parted—and Will stepped forth. The boys gasped in unison.

  He looked a lot like… a she.

  Since they were having the weekend get-together at Cassie’s house, her parents absent till Sunday on a spa retreat, womanly accoutrements abounded. Nowhere more so than in the bedrooms. Which was where they’d taken Will to carry out their plans.

  Will had been, for lack of a better word, dolled up. In a sultry, skintight red cocktail dress, he was smoking hot. The fabric hugged his slender figure like a second skin, showcasing the athletic build he’d developed playing lacrosse and surprisingly long legs encased in silk stockings. Will’s short brown hair had been combed back into a sexy, slick do. His hazel eyes had been enhanced with dusky eye shadow and black eyeliner. Red lipstick graced his thin lips.

  In short, Will—or Willow, as the girls called him—looked like a super hot chick.

  “Holy shit,” Miles mumbled in obvious amazement, blinking hard. “Is that…? Will, is that you? Jesus fucking Christ, you’re… you’re….”

  “Hot!” exclaimed Aidan, Steve, and Ricky in perfect sync.

  Unable to find his voice or clarify his thoughts, Charlie stared, wide-eyed and in shock. This was a vision of his best friend he’d never ever expected to see. Will was a complete stranger. A seriously attractive stranger.

  Charlie felt the feverish stirrings of an untimely boner pushing against his fly. He gulped, mixed emotions waging war inside his eighteen-year-old brain.

  One emerged as the victor. Pure hot rage, the source of which he couldn’t identify. Instinct drove him to act before his mind, heart, or conscience caught on.

  Growling, Charlie hurried to Will, who smiled bashfully at him, cheeks reddening. He’d never looked more adorable and vulnerable—and Charlie was about to rip him to pieces. Without stopping, Charlie grabbed Will by the arm and dragged him back upstairs to the nearest bedroom.

  “Hey, what gives?” Miles shouted from below, the others chiming in, their confusion clear.

  Charlie pretended not to hear them. Will said nothing, nor did he try to resist. That showed such a level of trust, Charlie almost backed off. But he couldn’t look at Will like that.

  Stomping into the connecting bathroom, Charlie slammed the door shut and locked it. Then he started to yank off Will’s dress. But it was tight and wouldn’t come off, certainly not with Will finally protesting and trying to pull back from the onslaught.

  Charlie didn’t relent, though, and he tore at the dress. The sound of ripping fabric was stark in the confined space, echoing from the tiled walls.

  “Charlie, please stop,” Will pleaded, fighting to shove Charlie away.

  But driven by adrenaline born of rage, Charlie shredded Will’s dress till it lay in tatters on the floor, a scant few pieces still clinging to Will’s body. Then Charlie attacked the silk stockings, which came off without a hitch in thin strips, this time almost soundlessly.

  “Ch-Charlie… stop…,” Will begged, tears in his eyes.

  Unceremoniously, Charlie maneuvered Will into the bathtub. He turned on the shower full blast, pushed Will under the heavy stream, and washed the gel out of his hair and the makeup off his face. He couldn’t even see Will clearly, his hands a blur in a flurry of movement.

  When Charlie ran out of steam and ire, he stepped back, out of breath, and took in the sight of his handiwork
. A new kind of shock reverberated through him, and he was appalled by what he’d done. It could only be described as an atrocity.

  Will sat huddled in the bathtub in his wet underwear, hugging his knees. Black smears of makeup ran down his cheeks, and red smudges of lipstick still covered the sides of his mouth. He looked like a soaked puppy, miserable and confused. Charlie had never seen his best friend so despondent.

  He looked… abused.

  Remorse swamped Charlie, nailing his ass to the wall. Shame made his knees buckle, his chest constrict painfully, and his eyes well with burning-hot tears. He’d never felt more like an utter asshole.

  Yes, his best friend looked like a boy again. But at what cost?

  An epiphany assailed his awareness like a charging bull, and he realized why he had lost his mind at the sight of Will in his feminine getup. He’d grown hard and hot for his best friend. He’d been attracted to him. Sexually attracted.

  Unable to accept it, he’d freaked out and acted like a madman.

  “I’m sorry…,” Charlie whispered in desperation. “God, Will, I’m so, so sorry….”

  Will’s jaw quivered. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he didn’t even look up.

  Charlie couldn’t take it. He ran away like the coward he was.

  The bathroom door crashed against the wall as he yanked it almost off its hinges. He dashed downstairs, past his other friends, and out of the house. And he didn’t stop running, not even when Cassie’s house had faded from sight.

  There weren’t enough apologies or grand gestures in the world to make up for what he’d done to his best friend.

  He headed to the bridge on the outskirts of town. The modern structure extended over a river running through a canyon. Well, a deep creek really, though on the maps it was labeled a canyon. Charlie and his friends often sat on the railing on a dare and tossed pebbles into the creek. They could never hear them landing, not even the echoes. That was how high the bridge was.

  Charlie made his way to the middle of the bridge, leaned over the railing, and peered down into the darkness. The rush of the river was inaudible; not even an occasional splash reached his ears. But he knew it was there.

  For a minute Charlie seriously considered jumping. Perhaps when they found his mangled body downstream days later, Will would be able to forgive him for his transgression.

  “Goddammit, shit, fuck, piss and balls! I’m such a fucking asshole!”

  His vehement shout returned to him, echoed by the steep cliffs below. Nature seemed to agree with his assessment of his underlying character.

  Never in a million years could Charlie have imagined a scenario where he’d attack his best friend. That he could ever physically harm Will. How could he have done that? What the hell had possessed him to be so cruel? So brutal?

  His jaw quivering and his throat dry, Charlie wiped tears off his cheeks. They burned and itched his eye sockets and cheeks. But he didn’t try to stem the flood. He let it all out. What else was there left to do?

  He cried because he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he’d lost his best friend.

  And it was all his own damn fault.

  Chapter 2

  “THERE HE is,” Miles muttered as he stopped dead in his tracks. Anger came off him in waves.

  Will cringed. This was bad, but no one’s business but his and Charlie’s. He sidestepped in front of his search companion. “Go. I got this.” When Miles started to protest, Will shut him up with a deadly glare. “Go.”

  “Fine. But if he hurts you again….” Sullen and scowling, Miles made a cut sign across his throat, turned around, and headed back the way they’d come. A bit theatrical, Will concluded, rolling his eyes. They were high schoolers, not teen mobsters.

  Then his attention veered toward the bridge. Charlie sat with his back to the railing, knees curled up against his chest. He was shaking, that much Will could tell even from a distance, so he had to be crying. But Will’s heart hurt too much for empathy right now.

  He approached warily and watched his best friend for any signs of recognition or activity.

  Although to be fair, Will wasn’t 100 percent certain that he still had a best friend. Charlie’s mystifying behavior had been reprehensible, so full of hate. It was uncharacteristic of him. Will couldn’t understand.

  Loose gravel on the asphalt kicked off under his feet as he walked closer. Charlie’s head snapped up. The second he saw who stood in front of him, his face fell. He went pale and scared, and he ducked his head, looking away. His mouth opened and closed, but no sounds came out.

  “Charlie.” Will closed the gap between them and crouched, getting on eye level with him. “You owe me an explanation.”

  Charlie buried his face against his knees, shuddered, and said nothing, not even a whisper.

  Will wanted to scream in frustration, but he suppressed the urge. Instead he sat down next to Charlie and leaned against the cold railing. Moisture on the metal bars from the rain earlier that day seeped through his clothes, but he ignored the discomfort. He didn’t touch Charlie, not even with an arm or a leg. There was a gap between them, both physically and emotionally.

  Will wanted the rift gone. “Talk or I’ll beat the crap out of you.” He winced because that was utter bullshit. Will played lacrosse for the school team, but Charlie was a semipro wrestler and had at least twenty pounds on him in muscle mass.

  Charlie actually released a watery chuckle at that but still refused to speak.

  “What’s going on? Why’d you—”

  “I don’t fucking know, okay?” Charlie blew up out of nowhere, throwing his hands up in a sign of chagrin, his tone belying how out of control his feelings seemed to be. “But… I shouldn’t have, that much I do know. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  Will listened to the voice that had gone small and fearful. He didn’t like that kind of sound emerging from his strong, smart friend. “That really sucked. You really fucking hurt me.”

  Charlie made a strangled noise at the back of his throat. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not one for throwing words carelessly around, but… that bordered on actual physical abuse, and it sucked a whole hell of a lot.” Will dropped the accusation regardless of how much his heart ached to use such terms.

  “I know,” Charlie sobbed, hugging himself tighter. “I’m sorry.”

  “You really crossed the line,” Will insisted, refusing to let his best friend off the hook so easily. Not that any of this had been easy for either of them. “You can never try that shit again.”

  “I know! I’m sorry!” Charlie’s tinny voice rose in anger. Will winced, not quite scared but nervous. “Sorry,” Charlie murmured, cringing and dropping his tone back down to low. “I’ll never do anything like that ever again. I swear. Not ever. I know you’ve got no reason to believe me, especially right now, but… it’s the truth. I was horrible. I can’t ever do that again. I won’t.”

  Will worried his bottom lip, doubtful but wanting to believe. “Okay. I… I’m not ready to forgive you yet. ’Cause I don’t understand. Explain it to me. Please?”

  Charlie shook his head so fiercely it was a surprise the damn thing didn’t fall off. Yet after a moment of loaded silence, he murmured, “You’ll never forgive me.”

  Will bumped him with his arm. Charlie gasped.

  “I might surprise you, buddy,” Will teased.

  Charlie raised his head incrementally, enough for Will to catch a glimpse of a ghost of a smile. “Yeah, you always do that. In the best possible way. Each time.” Then his mirth evaporated. “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Finally something we agree on.” Will laughed to show he was joking.

  But Charlie’s expression went dark, desperate, and sorrowful. “True.”

  Will’s temper flared. In that, at least, he mirrored Charlie. “That is by far the stupidest thing you’ve ever said to me. Dumbass.” He punched Charlie on the arm, just hard enough to get his point across. “You better not act like this on the tr
ip. So you’ve got a week to get smart.”

  Charlie visibly gulped. Then he chanced a glance at Will, who smiled softly in return. “I really made a mess of things.”

  “Yes. But you’re a neat freak and a pretty darn good cleaner. Never a dust bunny in sight at your place.”

  “I guess.” Charlie stared at Will like he was trying to decipher a riddle that was beyond his abilities. “Why are you being so nice to me? After the shit I pulled, you should be, I don’t know, hurting me real bad.”

  “I don’t kick people when they’re on the ground. I prefer to knock some sense into them. So spill.”

  Sighing so deeply he actually slumped, Charlie closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the railing. “You… when you were like that, so beautiful… I wanted….”

  He seemed unable to finish his sentence. Will didn’t need to hear more. It was obvious what Charlie’d left unsaid.

  Charlie had been turned on by Will dressed as a woman. He’d wanted Will—or Willow.

  Trying his best not to show how rattled he was, Will bit his lower lip till it bled. He had mentally prepared for all sorts of weird explanations—stowaway white-supremacist spirit, evil twin from outer space, alien pod people—but this was unexpected.

  To be fair to the both of them, Will wasn’t into dressing as a woman, and Charlie had been attracted to an apparent woman. Neither of them was gay, bisexual, bicurious, or sexually fluid.

  Or at least that was what Will told himself. He imagined the same mantra echoed in Charlie’s head.

  Charlie’s fingers fluttered nervously, and he shook his hands as if to rid them of tension. Will captured one of Charlie’s hands and gave it a squeeze. “I know you need your sax to feel calm. Come on. Let’s get you home.”

  But Charlie drooped against his shoulder and inched closer. “Not yet.” He sniffed. “I don’t wanna lose my best friend.”

  “You haven’t lost anything,” Will reassured him gently, resting his head against Charlie’s.

  “Not even your respect?”

  “Hey, it took a lot of courage to tell me that you find me stupidly hot.”