Chapter 12

The week passesin a blur of shuttered emotions. I pretend not to notice when Casey stops by to pick up Beth for school. On Wednesday and Friday, we sit across the room from each other in class and exchange polite smiles in the hallway, and mostly manage not to look like we’re avoiding each other at the pep rally on Friday morning. As for me and Camden, I think I’m doing a pretty great job of acting normal… Even though every time I see him, or think about him, and then inevitably think about the bizarre gymnastics happening in my stomach the other day I feel like I’m maybe going to throw up. But I must not be doing as good of a job as I thought, because after our lecture on the Robber Barons in US History the teacher pulls me aside to ask if I’m feeling okay. I give her some weak excuse about a breakup and the pressures of football and accept a peppermint on my way to math.

Funny how something that’s always been there can feel so world-altering when you finally see it. Every time my name is called, my stomach balls into a wad as I imagine that they know… They’ve realized it too. Every time I look in the mirror I turn, looking over my shoulder for the sign I feel like I must be carrying around with me shouting the news: I am gay.

But just when I start to sweat, my breath coming shallower as I fear the confrontation about to happen, they just came to give me back the pencil I dropped. Or to ask how I feel about this week’s game. Or, in the case of the hopelessly clueless, verify that Casey really is back on the market. And by Friday it seems the impossible has happened; while I am hopelessly, completely, devastatingly aware of my newly discovered sexual orientation, it would seem I am the only one. It might feel lonely if I weren’t so relieved that Camden hasn’t cast me away in disgust.

Of course, I haven’t given him much of a chance to… I wouldn’t say I’ve been avoiding him. It would be fairer to say I’ve been distancing myself, wrapping my head around the way he makes me feel, and then pushing those feelings deep down into a quiet place where no one, especially not my best friend, might detect them. I think it’s been bothering him, but I’m not sure how else to handle the situation. Camden’s my best friend, he knows me better than anyone else, and I worry that if he looks too closely he’ll see my feelings for him. And then I’ll lose him, forever. And that’s the breakup I wouldn’t survive.

My newfound focus on anything not involving Camden’s face finds me in the library during Friday study hall, finishing the last of my homework when suddenly some kind of bagpipe and organ hell starts spewing from the bottom of my bag. Water water see the water flow, glancing dancing see the water flow… I can feel the red blush all the way up my neck and face as I finally grip my phone and silence the lovely new ringtone I’ve been gifted. I smile apologetically at the stern librarian at the circulation desk and make a big show of putting the phone on silent before sending Cam a text as I begin packing up my bag. He replies almost immediately.

What in the actual shit is that song ??

Gotta Stay Hydrated????

You coming to Jenson’s party after the game? I’ll give you a ride?

Sure. Sounds fun.

Take a shower first, then we’ll talk.

Ha. Ha. Deal

A party sounds safe, with lots of people to act as a buffer. Loud music, dim lights… The bell rings, and the halls flood with students as we all make our way out the door and across the parking lot to catch a ride to the stadium across town.

The field is buzzing with activity when we park in the student lot. Booster club moms are setting up tables for catering before we get changed and start warming up, band parents funnel in and out of the concrete archways stocking up the concession stands, and cheerleaders span the edges of the field attaching signs from this morning’s pep rally to the fencing.

We all feel pretty confident about today’s game, though it could always go off the rails if we aren”t focused. Even when we think we have it in the bag, every guy on our team knows we shouldn’t let our guards down until the clock runs out. We’re on our home turf again this week, and facing a team we beat every season. As we walk I look across the field to the visitor’s stands, where parents in red t-shirts are starting to set up everything on their bleachers. There won’t be as many cheering fans in the visitor stands today, but our side is already starting to fill up with early arrivals in blue and black ready to cheer for the home team. The familiar rush of pride burns low in my belly as we turn into the concrete hallways and open the door to the locker room.

The low buzz of pre-game chatter already fills the air, echoing around the hard walls and floor as the guys stretch and loosen up. Cam follows me to our regular spot, plopping his bag onto the wooden bench in front of an open cubby and pulling out his uniform. At his side I’m mimicking the motions, but my attention is on the slip of his stomach revealed by his shirt each time he reaches into the locker… I bite the inside of my cheek when his hands curl around the bottom edge of his shirt, forcing my mind blank as I stare straight ahead at my uniform and don’t look up again until we’re both dressed for the game.

Our pads stay in our locker as we stretch and eat dinner together as a team, mentally preparing ourselves for the game we’re about to play. I feel like I’m only half in it, like I have to guard myself to be sure no one sees the thoughts running through my mind. If they did, what would they say? Nothing good… Maybe something bad. I’ve never known anyone gay in the whole town. But I have heard the things guys say to each other in the locker room… Synonyms for weak, or loser, or weird, or stupid. Slurs. If they’ll say those things for no reason, what would they say if they knew they applied to me?

It could be a minute or an hour later that I find myself in line behind the giant blue inflatable helmet, ready to run behind our school flags as the band plays our fight song and the crowd cheers. I roll my shoulders, shake my helmeted head, and grit my teeth against the hard black mouthguard… It’s time to focus. Game time. There’s no room for anyone, or anything, else. I let out a hiss of air, and feel a sense of peace wash over me as I see Coach slap Mike Samson on the back at the band’s first note, and we’re on.

My focus doesn’t slip for even a moment during the game. I don’t score any goals myself, but in the third quarter we make a play that seals our win for us. We’re crouching in place, still as statues as we wait for the snap. The ball enters play and I run wide, watching Samson’s eyes as he winds his arm and following the path of the ball to catch it perfectly as it sails into my waiting arms. I’m panting out breaths in hard puffs of air around my mouthguard, when from the corner of my eye I see a hulking defenseman in red lumbering my way.

I try to twist to the side, but I can tell I’m not going to make it, when suddenly Cam surges up from behind me in a rush of blue and blocks them with a grunt of forced air. There’s more red jerseys in front of me, and my eyes quickly scan the field, focusing on a single panel of blue parallel to me across the congested field. It’s Jenson, on top of his game tonight and ready for the pass, turned slightly towards me and pointing his shoulder towards the open space between him and the goal.

With a huff of exertion, I use my next step to launch myself two feet into the air, clearing the sea of red helmets rushing in front of me, and send the ball spiraling laterally over the defensive players and into his hands. Chris stumbles for a step but catches himself, throttling forward in a mad rush that doesn’t end until his foot crosses the white line into the endzone and the band starts our fight song. Bodies jostle around me, but when they saw the ball sailing overhead any attempts to tackle me ended. I laugh as I watch Jenson’s hands fly into the air, hear his whooping even over all the noise as our teammates rush to slap his shoulders.

When we kick the extra point, the roars of approval ring up once more from the stands as our band jumps back into the fight song. Spirits are high as we finish the quarter, and then the game, and before I know it we’re gathered in a huddle listening to Coach and swallowing water in streams from our pull-spout bottles as we take a knee.

The moment we’re released I rise and stride back to the locker rooms, hurrying to be sure I’m the first one to claim my spot under the silver shower heads. The room echoes with raucous cries and laughter as we talk about high points of the game, and Chris gets jostled around so much I think he might slip on the soap trails filtering towards the center drain. I finish quickly, drying off and wrapping the towel around my waist before making my way back to the main area.

After quickly pulling on my boxers, I towel off my hair before quickly tugging the rest of my street clothes on and head to the bench outside the locker room door to wait for Cam. I grin and slap hands with various teammates as they pass by, all of us in the mood to celebrate after a win at home. A hand tousles my curls, and I glance up just as Cam steps around me and hooks his thumb into the pockets of his letterman jacket with a smile.

“Ready to go?”

“Yup,” I jump up and follow him out to the truck.

I catch myself glancing at Camden as he drives, entranced by the shadows that grow to reach for his firm jaw as we drive under streetlights down the dark road. It occurs to me that this is the first time we’ve really been alone together since I’d had the earth shattering realization that I would like to follow those shadows… I blush at the thought and snap my head back to look out the front window. I release my breath in a slow, steady stream, trying to clear my head of any thoughts of my best friend that go beyond platonic.

“You okay?” I feel Cam’s eyes on me.

“Yeah,” I grin, hoping it looks more convincing than it feels. “Just tired. Been a long week, you know… And then the game.”

“Hell of a game,” he agrees, but it seems like I hear an undertone of concern. “Have you talked to Casey?”

“Uh, nope,” I rub the back of my neck. “Not since the coffee shop. She asked for some space, so I want to respect that.”

“You think you guys will get back together?”

“Nope.”

“Well,” he glances at me again. “You answered that pretty quickly…” We sit in awkward silence as he turns down a country road. “She was asking about you, the other day. Looking for insider information.” I make a noncommittal noise and he continues. “I guess Beth told her you were really upset the other night?”

“Yeah, well…” I huff. “It’s been a long week.”

“Yeah, no, you said that. I guess, uh, it sounded like she was hoping I might have some insight. On what went wrong.”

“She broke up with me,” I frown into the darkness. “And she’s looking for closure?”

“I don’t know,” his laughter sounds forced. “Girls, you know…”

“I don’t know,” I rub my forehead. “I was perfectly fine leaving things the way they were. She’s the one who didn’t want to be with the freak who didn’t want to have sex with his girlfriend!” I realize I’m being louder than I mean to, and stare out the window quietly as Cam silently pulls in and parks the car in Jenson’s driveway. The rumble of the engine shuts off, and the soothing rhythm of cicadas in the fields where people parked and disturbing them starts to filter into the cab of the truck.

“You aren’t a freak,” he murmurs softly.

“You don’t know that,” I say to my knee. I make no move to exit the cab, exhaling slowly.

Cam unbuckles, strolling around the truck before he opens my door and leans into the open space. I hate the way I react, a nervous flutter like I think something might happen.

“Elliot, you are my best friend. I know everything about you,” he says seriously. “And if I thought you were a freak, I would tell you every day.” He steps back and holds the door open for me.

“Not everything about me,” I mutter under my breath as I get out of the truck and follow him up the path to the house.

We enter the house without knocking, the loud music humming through the door a clear sign that the party has already started. Just past the front door is a dining table, where an assortment of shots and drinks have been poured and bottles and cups stacked. This looks like a long night. We both grab a plastic shot glass and down it. I shake my head as the vodka burns its way down my throat, washing away the worry from the car. I toss the cup into the trash bag and grab a can of soda to carry, raising an eyebrow as Cam downs a second shot and pops the tab on a beer. The living room is shaking with the beat of the music as kids dance and stand in close groups, heads bent together to be heard. In the corners, couples lean against the walls for support as already drunk mouths smash together. Stacey, a cheerleader I’ve seen at just about every party Cam’s ever brought me to, has donned a pair of sparkly children’s costume wings and twirls around being the Vodka Fairy, tilting generous pours of cheap spirits into people’s drinks as they laugh and cheer. I put a thumb over the top of my drink, shaking my head. Thank God Beth isn’t here… yet, at least.

Cam pulls me onto the dance floor, and I can’t help but laugh as I catch myself and start shifting to the beat of the music. We dance and laugh as the floor fills up around us, pressing everyone closer together. Beside me, a girl grinds and rubs against me, the smell of vodka heavy on her breath. I subtly shift and place a hand on her shoulder, easing her into the guy behind us instead. I smile at the look on his face as he notices his new dance partner, turning as he winks at me to see someone hand Cam another shot. Somewhere along the way he’s finished his beer, and he deposits both empty containers in a passing teammate’s hands with a whoop.

I watch the blonde boy shimmy his hips and wind his wrists up his body and into the air, the liquor loosening his usually restrained posture. Tension enters my gut, and I swallow hard as I watch him. The song shifts, the riff of Prince’s guitar filling the packed room, and he turns to find me with a grin.

“El!” I see him more than hear him say as he reaches for my forearms and pulls me closer. “I love this song!”

“I know,” I chuckle, trying to ignore the melting heat that runs down my arms as Cam trails his thumbs down to my wrists.

With a shuddered breath and a set of my shoulders, I decide to use the crushing pack of teenagers bumping and grinding in this living room to my advantage and move in closer. Camden laughs and crows along with the song, matching my grin as we dance. He shimmies and dips his hips, all inhibitions gone, and next to my restrained dancing we probably make an odd pair. I feel invisible in this room, and I’ve never realized just how freeing and underrated that is. I close my eyes and let myself imagine for just a second that we’re here together, dancing with each other on purpose.

In my mind we drift closer together, my hands resting on Cam’s hips. I pull him closer, pressing our bodies together, but when he turns to look at me a flare of disgust and alarm shoots through his eyes.I open mine, gasping out a panicked sound.

That can’t happen. He’s your best friend, get your shit together. I look at Cam’s face, and he looks as nauseous as I feel. With a frown, I take his elbow and gently steer him to the edge of the crowd as the song fades out.

“El,” he moans. “I don’t feel so good…”

“No shit, bud… Let’s sit down.” I grab us each a bottle of water and herd him to Jenson’s covered back porch.

We sink onto the couch, and the noise of the party is muffled as the door swings shut behind us. I take a deep breath and relax, handing the cracked-open bottle to Cam and dutifully keep my eyes averted as he begins to sip it down. After a while, I hear him sigh and turn to glance at him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay…” I frown when I see his bottom lip waver. He takes a breath before he keeps talking. “You haven’t wanted to talk to me since Monday.”

“Oh…” I rub my hands on my knee. “Cam, it isn’t that I didn’t want to talk to you… I just needed to think.”

“Did you want to think about getting Casey back?” he asks tersely.

“No,” I frown at his tone. “I”m really okay with the breakup. I told you I don’t think I liked her like that…”

“But why?” He demands. “Why not? Do you like someone else?”

I clench my teeth, staring at a spot on the wall as a slow flush rises up my neck. Camden freezes, going pale before angry red spots appear on his cheeks. When he finally speaks, the accusing tone is gone; replaced with hurt and laced with a bitter edge of anger.

“You like someone else. You do.”

“Cam… Come on.”

“You told me you didn’t like anyone,” tears well up in his eyes. “You lied to me!”

“Cam,” I try desperately. Please, please just calm down…

“She asked me if I thought you were cheating, and I told her no.”

“I would never cheat!”

I didn’t mean to like you, I didn’t even realize…

“But you lied! I asked you if you liked someone, and you lied! I’m supposed to be your best friend… You aren”t supposed to lie to me!”

“I didn’t mean to lie.”

“What does that even mean?? You’ve been so weird this week, you won’t even look at me.” His voice cracks. “I thought maybe you saw me, wanted me, I…” He stops and looks blearily around, the tears starting to fall in earnest.

What? What did he just say?

I lurch to my feet and hold out my arms in front of him as Cam stands, swaying as the rest of his body catches up. He’s drunk. I’ve never seen him like this, so out of control. He chokes on a sob, shoving my arm down.

“Cam,” I breathe.

“I want to go home…” he starts towards the door.

“You can’t drive Cam, you’re drunk.”

“I’m going home,” he pushes past me, and with a strength I didn’t know I had I grab his wrist and pull him back to me.

“Give me the keys, Camden.” I say, concern making my voice hard. Glaring, he fishes them from his pockets and puts them in my free hand. “Come on,” I let go of him. “I’ll take you home.”

I swallow hard as I lead the way back through the packed house, silently reciting over and over the steps to getting Glory moving in the right direction. Every few steps I look over my shoulder to be sure Cam is still following, wincing at the anger radiating from beneath the tracks of tears on his cheeks. When we finally reach the truck I open the door with shaking hands. Camden trips on his way in, barely catching himself and hauling himself into the seat. Shaking my head from side to side, I cross around the front to the driver’s seat and whisper a prayer as I turn the key in the ignition.

The walk to the truck was quiet and tense, but not as awkward as the drive home. The silence is broken only by the occasional sniff as Cam stares out his window. I cut the lights as we pull up to our street, not wanting to draw his dad’s attention as I park Glory and cross to Camden’s side of the truck. He fights me as I try to help him out, but lets me open the front door and follow him inside.

“Go take out your contacts,” I whisper after him.

“Go home,” he hisses back. “I’m fine.”

I ignore him, rolling my eyes as I go into the kitchen. Thankful I know my way in the dark, I find him a cup with a lid and straw in the cabinets and fill it with water. I start for the stairs but double back to reach for the sleeve of saltines Mr. Holt always keeps on hand in case of illness. Taking careful steps so as not to draw Mr. Holt’s attention any more than Cam already has on his way up the stairs, I follow. Slipping past the dark bathroom, I make my way down the hall and into his bedroom. Cam lays sprawled on top of his blankets, already fast asleep and breathing evenly. I shake my head, hoping he took my advice about the contacts and won’t be cursing himself in the morning, and set the water and crackers on his bedside table with Glory’s keys before taking a seat next to him on the bed. My hands shake as I reach out, shifting some hair away from his eyes.

“Goodnight, Cam.”

I creep downstairs and start off down the street, cursing myself for making my best friend cry. What can I even say to him? ‘Sorry man, I was just avoiding you so I could try not to think of how much I want to kiss you’? Or how about, ‘I didn’t realize that I liked you as more than a friend until my girlfriend dumped me because she kind of started to pick up on it, haha, isn’t that funny?’ Yeah. I somehow don’t think that would help.

I rub my eyes hard with the heel of my hand, refusing to cry. I frown as something occurs to me. Is she asking him questions because she knows I like him? Or just because she suspects I like someone but isn’t sure who? And Cam… does he know? His upset tonight flows through my mind, hearing the hurt in his words… ‘You won”t even look at me…’ he’d said. ‘I thought you saw me, wanted me…’

I trip on the curb in front of my house, my heart catching in my throat as I look back in the direction I’ve just come from as a wonderful, horrible, terrifying thought occurs to me.

Could it be possible that Camden Holt wants to kiss me, too?