Chapter 11: Side Maestro

 

After witnessing Franco in his half-naked glory, Caleb’s first instinct was to leave and hide somewhere. Instead Caleb had sat frozen, watching Franco streak into the field, only to stop short by the sidelines to wait for the referee to allow him to play.

Why should he leave? Caleb stuck out his chin in defiance. His world shouldn’t change just because of Franco’s sudden arrival.

But things were already changing. With Franco on the field, Caleb couldn’t concentrate on the game. His mind ballooned with questions. Had Tara told Franco how big a jerk he was? Was Tara mad at him? Was Franco mad at him, too?

Caleb was still lost in thought when a jubilant roar broke out in the field. The shirtless team was jumping and whooping in a tight circle. In the middle of that huddle was Franco, laughing and flecked with mud, as his teammates lifted him up in the air.

Caleb hitched his backpack on his shoulders, and jumped to his feet. The game was over. There was no more reason for him to stay.

He was already a few feet away when he heard someone shouting his name. A plethora of emotions swirled in his chest—embarrassment, anxiety and yes, hope.

Caleb took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and whirled around.

 

* * *

 

The air conditioning at the fast food joint wasn’t unreasonably cold, but every now and then, Caleb gave an involuntary shiver. He filled his head with images of warmth—steaming mugs of coffee, heat rising from the pavement, the Sahara desert. Still, he couldn’t stop his body from trembling as he watched Franco chomp down his second burger, his lower lip rimmed with catsup.

“Not hungry?” Franco gestured to Caleb’s untouched food.

In response, Caleb snatched a fry and crammed it into his mouth.

“It feels great to play again.” Franco lifted the rest of his burger to his lips. “When I was still on the varsity team, I could finish four of these in one go.”

“You were on the football team?” Caleb’s voice was incredulous.

Franco laughed. “Yup, since freshman. I stopped playing last year because I got busy with Wordplay. I’m glad the guys still let me play for fun.”

“You played great,” Caleb lied. He hadn’t actually seen Franco in action, but he must have been good if he scored the victory point.

“Good thing I came in during the last few minutes.” Franco grinned. “If I played the entire game, my tongue would be hanging out in the first hour. I’ll never hear the end of my lack of stamina from the guys.”

“Sir, is everything in order? Anything else you need?” A girl in crew attire hovered over their table, fluttering her eyelashes at Franco.

“We’re good. Thanks.” Franco turned on his million-peso smile.

The girl’s smile grew wider before she excused herself. Caleb saw her look over her shoulder once at Franco before resuming her place behind the counter.

“I hope you’re not in a hurry.” Those coffee-bean eyes were trained on Caleb again. So dark and deep that if he looked at them long enough, Caleb wouldn’t find his way back. “I wanted to talk to you about Tara.”

Snapping out of his trance, Caleb stiffened, defenses at the ready.

“Tara’s awesome, but I know how she can get a bit too much sometimes.” Franco grinned apologetically. “She’s used to getting her own way—even with a guy she likes.”

Caleb felt himself relax. “I don’t get it. Tara could have her pick of guys.” Remembering what Ginny told her, he added hastily, “And I’m not fishing for compliments, okay? I just don’t see myself as her type.”

Franco laughed. “She does have her pick of guys. That girl has had more boyfriends in college than I’ve ever had in my entire life.” He grinned. “But I can see why she gravitated to you. Her exes were all jocks, alpha-male types. To her, you were unexplored territory—the quiet, brooding artist.”

Caleb snatched up his fries, feeling his face burn.

“I warned Tara that you might not be into her. Of course she didn’t listen.” He stretched out his legs, nudging Caleb’s knee. “No one’s ever turned her down before. Understandably, her ego’s bruised.” His gaze turned thoughtful. “Is there anything you want me to tell her? To soften the blow?”

Caleb’s eyes widened. “Like what?”

Franco shrugged. “Like a girlfriend? The girl with the colorful hair?”

“Ginny? She’s just a friend.”

“Okay then.” Franco shrugged again. “A boyfriend?”

Caleb didn’t know what expression crossed his face then, but whatever it was, it had Franco blurting, “A joke. Forget it.”

The awkward moment stretched out like taffy, sticky and seemingly endless. Caleb cleared his throat.

“Was it hard to be on the team? Didn’t the guys ever . . . make fun of you?”

Franco tucked his legs back in. This time, Caleb didn’t flinch when their knees bumped.

“On my first day of training, I wore a shirt with the words: I’m gay. Get over it. I figured I should put it out there right away. At first, the guys thought it was a joke. But when I told them I was serious, most of them shied away from me. During practice, they’d never pass me the ball. Coach talked to all of us, and for a while, I’d be included in the game. But that never lasted.”

He smiled. “Then there was this crucial game, and my teammate accidentally passed the ball to me. I was so ready for it.” He looked up, beaming. “And I killed it. Scored two goals in a row. Our team won. Never had a problem since then.”

Caleb felt indignant. “But why did you have to prove yourself first before they accepted you? They shouldn’t have shut you out because you’re gay.”

Franco sighed. “Look, I’ve been lucky to have a chill family, but I’ve grown to accept that not everyone’s the same way. Understanding and acceptance go both ways. I can choose to act like a victim—or I can accept that people are naturally scared of things they don’t understand. I allow for a learning curve.”

“But doesn’t it feel weird . . . to be the only gay member on the team?”

Franco’s eyebrows shot up. “Why? Being gay doesn’t make me all that different.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “But there are some people who see gays as aliens, if you know what I mean. Like Drew’s mom? When he came out to her last year, she screamed at him for betraying her. As if Drew chose to be gay, right? It took a month for the shock to die down, and Drew and his mom are kind of okay now.”

Caleb stared at his tray. Somehow, he had finished his fries without tasting it. “Coming out sounds very inconvenient.”

“But necessary,” Franco replied quickly. “Trust me—nothing compares to the feeling after having given up the biggest secret of your life. It’s such a relief to be honest, you know?”

“I . . .” Caleb flustered. It felt like Franco was directly asking him the question. He changed the subject. “How are things with Drew?”

Instantly, Franco’s face creased into a frown. “Still not talking to me. Drew could be so dramatic, I’m tempted to call it quits sometimes.” Just as quickly, his face cleared. “But we always get back together. I’ll just have to be patient.”

Caleb nodded, feeling like his head was floating on his shoulders. What was happening to him? He shouldn’t have asked Franco all those questions. “I have to go.” He pushed himself up from his seat. “Nice talking to you. And please tell Tara . . . I’m sorry.”

Franco scrambled from his seat. “Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

He shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Okay, hold on.” Caleb watched as Franco grabbed a paper napkin from the table, and fished out a pen from his jeans’ back pocket. He flattened the tissue on his palm and scribbled furiously on it. “Here,” he said, handing it to Caleb. “If you need to talk or whatever.”

Eleven digits stared back at Caleb, written in blue ink.