I laugh, my hands clenching on his leg and ankle. “I’m glad it was you.”
Vale takes one last look at the picture on my phone before reaching behind him to set it back on the nightstand. “Got to say though, Gabi, you kind of have a type.”
“What?No I don’t. Y’all don’t look alike.”
“There’re some similarities. Enough to say there’s a type happening here.”
“Like what?”
“I might not be as twunk-ish as him, but we’re both Mexican.”
“I’m going to need more than that.”
“We’ve even almost got the same skin tone. And I’m getting the vibe that he’s not taller than, like, five-seven.”
“I—okay. Maybe I’m kind of seeing something now. But still.”
“I mean it as a compliment,” Vale says, nearly giggling. “He’s cute. Got a nice smile. I wish my hair was as curly as his is, and I know it’s justlike that.He still with his boyfriend?”
“Yep. They’re both in LA now, freshmen in college too, and still together. Also, I like your hair the way it is. And, with all respect to my boy, you’re cuter.”
We’re quiet for a minute. My hand goes to his and holds it, playing with each of his fingers. I feel good. Or, if anything, lighter for letting Vale in. For getting to finally explain this to someone and hear them say it’s okay.
“I’m sorry that that happened,” he tells me. “Like, the parts where you didn’t get the chance to figure things out then, or that you felt like there wasn’t someone you could go to, or that you, still, have to convince yourself that that night didn’t happen or matter. It did. And you do. And all the parts of you, that make up who you are, matter. And I’m really glad you didn’t have to push those feelings all the way down this time.”
“I do though. I can’t just lock us in this room forever. What happens when life goes back to normal, and my roommates are here, and I’m back on the pitch? When everyone’s either expecting me to be the greatest there ever was or seems to be looking for any reason to break me?”
“Is that what happens after today? You’re really going to force this part of you down again? You can’t keep us in here, but you’re going to just, what? Leave your bisexuality here before you head to practice every day? To class? To … downstairs for a cup of water?”
The question is like a hand squeezing my throat and another at my heart. Like a fist to the gut. Like watching as my whole squad pulls Vale away from me. But it’s not like I didn’t tell myself we only had last night. Even if I want to give him everything. That romantic in me wants to take the last twelve,fourteen hours and this morning and make it another night, another morning, and repeat that for as long as I possibly can.
But it also wants to hold his hand while I walk him to class. To take him on dates. To take him on as many beach dates as it’ll take for him to forget about the guy who took him first. To see him wear my jacket and realize the reason I like seeing him wear it is because it’s the boy I’m giving my heart to wearing my name on his back.
“I like you so much, Vale” is all I can say at first.
“I like you so much too, Gabi,” he replies before leaning over, his lips landing at my neck.
“But I don’t know how I get to keep you.”
“What if I told you all you had to do was ask me?”
I let out a sigh, fighting back the moisture in my eyes. “I wish it was that easy. Nothing about what happened last night or right now changes the fact that, when I walk out of this bedroom, I have so many expectations to meet. I have to be the person my coach and my team and my family and my people need me to be.”
I’m already poking the bear that is Barrera. Is it going to be even easier for him to see I’m hiding something from everyone the minute he looks at me tomorrow at practice? The second he sees me catch Vale in the stands at our next game?
“Is it going to be easy for you to let me into this room tomorrow and just study philosophy and pretend like we’re both fine going back to how we were? Because I know that I can’t do that.”
“It wouldn’t be fair to you, Vale.”
His hand reaches for my face, coming to my chin, keeping me looking straight at him.
“You want to know another one of my favorite things about you?” he asks. “Your eyes. The way they show so much emotion. When you’re playing, I can tell when you get frustrated, when you get excited, when all you’re thinking about is the next coupleof seconds. And the way my whole body reacts to seeing joy in them. After last night and seeing your eyes and the way you looked at me, I knew then that there was no going back if I at all had a say in it. And I think you know that too. Like all there was in the world was you and me. And I know that that’s not true. I know that, in reality, that’s far from what your life is. ButIhate seeing how conflicted you are when I look into your eyes now. I hate that the thing you love the most is making you choose. And I don’t mean between it and me. I mean between it and you.
“I want to be in your life. And I get what I’m asking, I get what I should expect when I ask it. But if there are going to be so many things out there that make it harder to be you, I want to be a part of your life you can come to and find happiness.”
“And then what? When I end up breaking your heart, when football ends up forcing me to make that choice, will you forgive me?”
“Will you let me give you my heart? I don’t need every minute from you, Gabi. I want you to be the same ambitious futbolista that you already are. That’s who I fell for. Who I have such a huge crush on. The person who is passionate about the things he loves. But, in the minutes I do get with you, I want all of you. Because you as you are, and the you you’re becoming, I’ve got it bad for him. And I would regret not trying so much more.”
