The Revenge Game

I have the romantic appeal of a Linux manual.

And do you know what’s funny about high school?” Justin continues. “We spend so much time trying to be who everyone expects us to be that we sometimes forget to figure out who we actually are.

emotional intelligence of a dial-up modem.

there’s no PowerPoint presentation for How to Tell the Guy You’re Falling For That You Want To Have Penetrative Sex with Him.

Did you seriously just name my cock after a clock?

People are not like binary code. They are not simply zeros or ones. Good or evil. They’re complex, filled with contradictions and layers that can’t be reduced to simple either-or statements.

My keys jangle as I try to find the right one, making enough noise to wake not only everyone on our floor but probably several generations of their ancestors too.

My brain feels caught in an infinite loop, trying to reconcile two completely different versions of the same person. It’s like trying to debug code when you can’t find the original source of the error.

Apparently, the best plans are actually the ones that fall spectacularly apart, leaving something infinitely more valuable in their place.

Um…sorry to bother you, but our printer is making noises that I’m pretty sure violate the Geneva Convention.

I’m supposed to be a smart guy. But it turns out I’m an absolute idiot. The reality of the situation hits me.

This was not in the revenge algorithm.

When you said you were going undercover, I pictured something more James Bond, not whatever this IKEA witness protection program thing is,

So,” he says, his voice shaky but his eyes steady on mine, “what do you say, my Techno-Genius? Want to debug life’s code together?

Teenage Andrew is banished to the past. Just as Teenage Justin is. They are part of us in the way that our pasts always shape who we are, but they don’t define our future.

The ripple effects of our actions always extend far beyond what we can see. It’s like dropping a stone in water and never knowing what shore feels the waves.

If only people were that straightforward. People are not like binary code. They are not simply zeros or ones. Good or evil. They’re complex, filled with contradictions and layers that can’t be reduced to simple either-or statements.

I’m the reason his expression has transformed into something almost transcendent, his usual golden-boy charm stripped away to reveal raw, unfiltered bliss.

They’re not only because he’s so gorgeous. I’m developing feelings for Justin Morris. Not friendship feelings, not revenge-plot feelings, but actual heart-racing, palm-sweating, completely inappropriate romantic feelings.

Repressing my sexuality was initially all about self-preservation. I was living with a homophobe, someone who was already making my life a living hell if I did anything that deviated from his perception of what a proper man did.

But one thing I’ve learned in the past three years is that no matter how far away from home you travel, you can’t escape yourself.

The finishing touch is a photo of me in my old high school football uniform, back when I was still trying to convince myself I could be exactly who everyone expected me to be.

There’s no simple if-then statement that can fix four years of systematic humiliation, no algorithm that can calculate the cost of learning to hate yourself before you’ve even figured out who you are.

My dating profile should read: Has money, terrible taste in men, and the emotional intelligence of a dial-up modem.

Andrew just stares at me for a long moment. “I wouldn’t have fallen in love with you if I hadn’t forgiven you,” he says finally.

The thing about forgiveness is that it’s not about forgetting. It’s about choosing to build something new on top of the ruins. I know all about that now. Because I’ve had a master lesson in forgiveness over the last eight months. From Andrew Yates.

The thing about walls is they don’t just keep other people out. They keep us trapped inside too,” Mom

My mom used to say that loving someone means trusting them with your broken pieces,” I say, the words scraping my throat raw. “I thought you were helping put mine back together, but you were just…collecting evidence of the cracks.

Somewhere between plotting my revenge and falling in love with him, I became the worst kind of bully. The one who makes you trust them before they break your heart.

I don’t want to be Andrew Yates, the tech multi-millionaire. I want to be Drew Smith, a simple IT help desk technician. I would trade all the money in my bank account if I could make the switch.