Fast forward two years.
You've been working your ass off. You have friends, (they don't know you're a freak) and you even have some close friends, (as close as they can be without knowing the truth, anyway.) You're sitting in your room again; most of your friends going home for some holiday or break. You don't really keep track of them, not like you have anywhere to go. (Don't think about it.)
Brady stops by. You figure he's going to give you shit about not going home again, an inside joke with the two of because he stays at school too. Then, like in the past, he'd invite you over or to the library or to play video games, which he always kicked your ass at.
Something is different tonight though. You can't really put your finger on it. He's definitely different when he starts talking about going out that night. In the 2 years you've known Brady, he's never been much of a partier. Tonight though, he convinces you to go out with him. Gets you good and drunk, too, always at your elbow with another red cup. Tries to hook you up with Jess (sweet girl) but you've finally had enough of that shit. You shake your head and leave the house through the kitchen, and lean up against a tree in the backyard. You take your phone out, scroll down to Dean's name, squinting because the letters are swimming a little bit. (Stop it, you're not thinking about him.) Hell, you don't even know if he has the same goddamn number. You hear someone coming, so you slide your phone back in your pocket.
It's Brady, and he's trying to look sheepish, or apologetic, or something, but he's failing miserably, the hint of a smirk playing around his mouth. He tries to apologize about Jess (not with much sincerity) but you interrupt him saying its fine, that you're just a fre-and then he interrupts you, in a way that is surprising, yet far too familiar.
He's shorter than you, so he's tilting his head up, and it's in slow motion, but before you can even register what's happening, his lips are on yours. They're gentle, gentle like (stop thinking about him) but then the pressure increases before you can think too much and you're still in shock and you're also drunk so your mouth kind of opens itself. Brady takes over, and he's smaller than you, but you feel him all over, and you feel hot all over, then his hands are opening your jeans and working their way down and you can't help it because for once it's not your own hand and it's tight and warm and Brady knows what he's doing. You close your eyes and slam your head back until it hits the tree, and Brady's mouth is on your neck, and you don't know if it's an embarrassingly short time later or if it you hold out a little longer than that, but when it's over Brady is wiping his hand on the grass, tucking you back into your pants, giving you another smirk then walking away.
You lean against the tree for a little while longer, and when you go back in the house, the party is still in full swing so you proceed to get completely shitfaced. You wake up with vague recollections of the night, and a funny feeling deep in your gut. Your phone is all the way across the room, like you threw it or something, and you have the funny feeling that you might have cried yourself to sleep.
Brady never mentions what happened, doesn't even give you a look that might hint at anything, so you don't mention it either. He does have a surprisingly gleeful expression when you mention one day that you've got a date with Jess.
You proceed to completely forget about that night.