“I— What?”
“You’re really tense. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh. No.” I’m tense because never have I ever thought about what it means when we’ve been touching. The times I’ve rested my head on his shoulder waiting for Philosophy to start or asked him to scratch my back or when we sat watching the water late at night. But, now, I’m scared that the second he touches me, he’ll see all the ways I imagined touching him last night.
He doesn’t. Obviously not. It’s just a touch.
“You’re fine. Got it a couple days ago, Arizona’s last penalty kick. It doesn’t hurt too bad anymore. We— Tell me more.”
“Oh. I … I think a lot about my future,” he says, his fingers lightly grazing the bruise. “What comes after this. What my life might look like three years from now as a senior, or in five years.”
“What else do you see, besides writing the world’s most popular comic?”
He chuckles, and his fingers stay on my arm, just under the bruise. “Having a boyfriend, maybe.”
“Wait—” I let out, my gaze going from his hand to his eyes. “I’ve never asked you about your dating life, and you know all about how mine’s been recently. Are you talking to someone? Do you have a boyfriend?”
“I … I don’t have a boyfriend. This guy at A&M Kingsville hit me up a few days ago, asking for a date, though.”
“I’d have thought every gay guy on campus would be after you.”
“There’s this junior in my sociology class that’s pretty cute. And a guy in my lit class, but I think we’re more platonic than anything else. We— Two pairs of shorts don’t make an outfit, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t.”
“That’s fine,” Vale replies, holding in a laugh.
“So, still making progress with guys on campus. But this Kingsville guy?”
“We’ll see. He’s also dropping hints that he wants tostay the nightif he comes up here, and I’m not sure how I’m feeling about that yet. Which is kind of a prevalent thing with lots of guys. Fuck first and first date after that. But enough about him.”
A huff comes out through closed lips. Part of me is solidly cool about this information, but another part is feeling a confusing type of way about this boy I don’t know throwing his dick at Vale. So, yeah, I gratefully take the suggestion to move on. “Anything else?”
“I think about the beach. Between school and the shop, I don’t get enough time to hang out there as much as I’d like to. I think the last time was that night we were there. And I don’t know if I’d call that bit of sand across the street from schoolthe beach.”
“We should go sometime, then.”
“Oh, for sure,” he says, his face in this disbelieving smirk. “With class and workand your gamesand all your futbolista stuff, we’ll find some time to go to the beach.”
“Trust. For real. Even if we’ve got to bail on a class once in our lives. Tell me more.”
“Boba tea. I think about boba a lot.”
“Same.”
“And my family. I think about my family.”
“Are y’all close?”
“Yeah. In that way of, like, we don’t always have to be talking; I’ll call my parents at least once a week, but it’s not as if they’re worried about me down here. And, if I ever needed them, I know that we’d throw fists for each other.”
“I bet you’re scary in a fight.”
Vale for sure clocks the sarcasm in my voice, the way his head tilts and his eyes glare. And his fists come up when he tells me, “I’m not afraid to pull some real San Antonio Westside behavior. Fuck around and find out, Gabi.”
“I might. Watch.”
“And I— When I came out, even though it was a little rough at first, my parents were really accepting. It’s not as if they were that surprised or anything, but they also had to take some time to find acceptance. It changed our relationship, but for the better, being able to be truthful with them, and know I don’t have to hide anything. My brothers and sisters have been great too.”
