But when the lights came on, and class was over, I’d looked over my shoulder, hoping to catch his attention, but he was gone. Disappeared, like always. I hadn’t told Royal, or anyone that I’d seen him at the clinic. I understood the need for privacy, the hope that maybe one day I wouldn’t need the privacy anymore anyway. That the noise would fade, and happiness would become a primary color I found in every piece of my day, mixing itself into the foundation of who I was. I was a lifer, though, and I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if he could be, too. If his visit to the clinic would really become a weekly “date” or if the conversation we had was simply a forced nicety, a politeness gifted to his best friend’s sister.
I slipped my bag over my shoulder and pulled my phone from my pocket as I walked to the auditorium door.
Me: I’m tired of the cafeteria. Let’s go to Annie’s?
His response was almost instant.
Blue: Hell yes. I need pancakes if I’m going to make it through another practice tonight.
Me: You always need carbs.
Blue: Meet us at my car.
Me: I have to drop off a few things at the studio.
Blue: Camden says hurry up, he’s S-T-A-R-V-I-N-G.
Me: Camden never whines.
I giggled as I read his next response.
Blue: Fine it was me, but hurry up, okay. Powdered Sugar Utopia awaits you, Pink.
I placed my phone in the back pocket of my overalls and made my way down the long hall of the art building. The walls were covered in hand-sketched drawings, part of the junior class exhibit from last semester. I marveled over the charcoal pieces, the talent, only stopping when I noticed a small area of the wall was blank except for a sheet of paper that had been taped to its surface. It read, NEW EXHIBIT COMING SOON. Excitement bubbled up inside my veins, wondering what new talents would be placed on these walls. Maybe one day my work would be, too, left up for pondering and speculation. The corner of my lip pulled between my teeth as I tried to suppress my smile.
One day at a time, Indie. My dad’s voice echoed inside my head, drowning out the earlier witch. I could see his weathered smile, feel the touch of his hand on my shoulder.
“Always in such a hurry,” I whispered with a smile as I opened the studio door.
The lights were on, but the place was empty. The large, open space was cooler than the rest of the building, all metal beams and concrete floors. If it wasn’t for the kiln and pottery majors, we’d all freeze to death this winter. I rummaged through my bag, grabbing the new brushes my mom had gotten me for Christmas, and placed them in my bin in the right corner of the room. Every art student had his or her own Tupperware tub filled with their supplies. There weren’t very many of us, maybe thirty-five, including all mediums. Sculpture, pottery, painting, drawing, restoration, and history. Vigrus Hall, one of the girls’ dormitories, named somewhat for the patron saint of artists, was where the entirety of female art students resided, including myself. We were a small, quirky bunch, sometimes intermingled with those taking their humanities requirements, but preferring the solitude of our studio space. I’d really only made one friend, an art major, as well, named Daphne, and that was mostly because she was one of the four girls living in my suite.
Daphne’s bin was next to mine on the studio floor, and I laughed at the disheveled mess. Her lid was tossed on the ground, her supplies half open, half spilled, her paint brushes crusted. I leaned down, grabbed her lid, and gently snapped it in place.
“Indigo O’Connell, you keep your hands off my shit.” Daphne’s shrill voice echoed off the deserted walls. She shot me a smile, her lip ring sparkling under the bright lights. She opened her bin, scanned its contents, and with a dramatic sigh said, “Thank God, I finally got it organized.”
“That’s organized?”
She ran her long fingers through her black hair. The pixie cut she’d gotten last semester had grown out, and flopped over her forehead.
“I have a system.” She picked out the crusted brushes. “Well, fuck, these are ruined.” She tried to throw them in the trash, but I plucked them from her grasp.
“A little turpentine and they’ll be as good as new.”
“Really? Because I already spent most of my student loan on housing.” Her lips curled up into her famous, I am up to something, smile. “And maybe a bottle of whiskey.” Her eyes floated to the ceiling. “Or two.”
“You can’t get caught with that again, Ari will lose her mind.”
“Ari is a stuck-up bitch.”
“She’s really sweet once you get to know her.”
Daphne narrowed her eyes. “You’re too soft, Indie.”
Ari was another one of the four girls living in our suite, and honestly super nice. “You’re mad because she’s dating Gus.”
“I have a thing for jocks, so sue me.” She blew out a long breath and sat on one of the stools by her easel.
I giggled. “Just be careful.”
“All great artists have vices.” She waved her hand dramatically, speaking in a deep and terrible British accent.
“You should’ve majored in Theater.”
“You know, I still might.”
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I didn’t have to look to know it was my “starving” brother wondering where I was.
“I’m heading to Annie’s with Blue and Camden if you want to join us.”
“Speaking of fine jocks.” She smirked, and I shook my head.
“One, that’s gross, he’s my brother, Daph, and two, he’s gay.”
“Bi.”
“Whatever, Daphne.”
“He had a girlfriend once.”
“He’s in love with Camden.”
“I could turn him.”
I huffed out a laugh. “You could try.”
“Is that a challenge?” She stood, her full lips stretching across her face.
“God, no.”
Her laugh was infectious. “Fine… at least tell him I said hi.”
“You can’t come?”
“I have art history in thirty minutes.”
“Brush up on your Picasso.”
“Ugh, Blackwood loves him. Pablo was such a chauvinist.”
“I think the whiskey has officially pickled your brain.” I paused, staring at the black and white stripes on Daphne’s shirt, debating if I should tell her about Kai.
“What?” she asked, pulling at the seam of her shirt. “Did I get paint on it again?”
“Kai Carter was in my art history class today.” I hadn’t meant to blurt it like I had, but the words rushed out on one big breath.
She looked up from her shirt. Daphne had gone to high school with Kai but had run in different circles. I always wondered if they ever had a thing, if he was her reason for bedding jocks as she liked to call it.
“Weird.”
“Maybe that was one of the classes he had to retake? It’s a humanities requirement.”
“Art History One is required, not Two, and besides, he would have finished that his freshman year. Maybe he’s hiding out, he’s good at that.”
My stomach did a full somersault. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged, pulling her paint brushes from my hand. “He runs hot and cold. Always has.”
“Did you guys date in high school?”
Please say no.
She grinned and tugged on my side braid. “Why so interested?”
“I’m not.” I took a step toward the door.
She hummed, a doubtful glint in her brown eyes. “I didn’t really know him in high school. He was a junior and I was a freshman. We grew up together, but then one day he pulled away, went his own way, I guess. Shit happens when you have an almost three-year age difference. He was the one who got away.” She said the last sentence with a wistful lilt and then laughed. “You should see your face. All doe eyes and shit. Kai is not your type.”
“I never said I was interested.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“
You’re crazy.”
“And I drink too much, tell me something I don’t know.” Her face took on a serious expression. “Indie, listen…”
“Gotta go.” I turned toward the door, pulling my phone from my pocket and waving it over my shoulder. “Blue gets hangry when he has to wait too long.”
She didn’t try to stop me. “Don’t forget to tell him I said hi.”
“I will.”
Once the studio door closed behind me, I leaned against it, closed my eyes, and exhaled. I should’ve let her finish that sentence, but there was this feeling growing, maybe more powerful than it should be, that yearned for more. That elusive more I’d craved. More feeling. More light. More color. Red. Like the love my parents had for each other, like Royal had with Camden, and maybe Kai wasn’t it, maybe he wasn’t my type, but when he looked at me, I could admit to myself. In this hallway filled with feeling, filled with thoughts bled across the walls in black and gray smudges, in this place, like my church, I could confess it. When Kai actually looked at me, when he took those stark, infinitesimal minutes inside that clinic waiting room and truly looked at me for the first time, I’d never felt so seen. So known. Maybe I’d created something out of nothing. It’s what I did, what I was good at, but he wasn’t one of my paintings.
He doesn’t see you.
“But he did. He did see me.” I spoke, a small smile on my face, and hoped he’d see me again on Tuesday, like he’d promised.
Kai
Everything drowns under the water, sound muffled and muted. Like these insecurities I held in my hands every day, they floated away in the current created by the very same hands. Each breath I took propelled me forward, toward something tangible, toward the hard surface of the wall, to the win. My ears broke the surface first as my lungs burned with fatigue. The whistle blew, and the smile on Coach’s face lit the fire inside me. The fire I’d thought I’d smothered with beer and whiskey.
“Carter, welcome back,” he shouted loud enough it echoed off the tile floors as he leaned down and tapped the top of my head with his clipboard.
My swim cap pulled at the hair on my nape, but I ignored the pinch and watched as Royal’s long body sliced through the water. My eyes flicked to the clock, and just like last semester, he was fast as hell. His broad arms and shoulders moved with effortless grace, and he touched the wall before anyone else.
Coach’s whistle was between his teeth, the shrill sound taking on a more aggravated tone as he stalked toward Sherman. “Do I need to cut you?”
“No, sir.” Sherman ran his hands over his cap, pulling it from his head, his eyes darting across the lanes, his lips curling into a scowl as he stared at Royal.
Coach lowered his body into a squat, his voice a rough whisper as he ripped Sherman a new one. “I don’t give a crap where you come from, who your parents are, or what problem you have with your teammates. You don’t get your times up—you’re done. Don’t make me do this. You’re better than this, kid.”
“Wow,” Royal whispered. “Do you think Coach would actually cut him?”
I watched as Sherman dragged himself from the pool without another glance in our direction, stomping off, his head down, and his swim cap and goggles balled into his fist.
“I think Coach will do whatever it takes to get this team back to where we were before the break.”
“I feel like this is my fault.”
“Bullshit.” I shook my head, not in the mood to rehash everything all over again. “Sherman is a fucking bigot and should’ve followed Ellis out the door.”
“He was our friend.”
“Was, Royal. Was being the operative word.”
Royal cast his gaze to the surface of the water. “Everyone’s been cool, even some of the guys I didn’t talk to last semester, but it hurts a little more, knowing Sherman thinks there’s something wrong with me. He ate lunch with us almost every damn day. Now he looks at me like I shit in his cereal.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Royal. You’re gay. You love who you love, we don’t need assholes like Sherman Hollister on this team fucking up the chemistry.”
“We need our captain back.”
The weight of Royal’s statement hit me in the gut as I turned to face him. “Not happening, O’Connell. It can’t. What’s done is done, and I’d do it all over again. You know this.”
I was a broken record, repeating the same lines over and over since practices had begun. I believed them, so why couldn’t he? Planting my palms on the slick surface of the deck, I unsuccessfully tried not to strain my left shoulder as I lifted myself out of the water. I grit my teeth, concealing my quiet wince of pain.
“Listen, I know I messed up by not answering your texts over break, but… everything at home… let’s just leave it. It wasn’t the best Christmas I’ve ever had, and it probably won’t be the worst.”
“Did you get in trouble?”
“Not exactly. My mom’s got more important shit to worry about than me losing my captain title.”
“Is she doing okay?”
I didn’t want to talk about my mom. My dad. Or how everything I’d struggled with, worked so hard for, had basically exploded.
“Yeah, man, but like I said at practice the other day, it’s all good, O’Connell. It’s better this way. Everything happens for a reason, right? You and your boyfriend get to be out.” The smile I gave him was genuine, but the concern in his eyes made it falter.
He eased himself from the pool, wiping the water off his arms, he held my gaze. “It feels different. You… and me. It’s weird. I feel like we broke up or something.”
A smirk formed on my lips, and I gave him a teasing punch to the shoulder. “Awe, do you miss me? Does Camden know you’re in love with me, too?”
“You’re a jackass.” Royal’s anxiety melted.
Feeling lighter than I had in over a month, I said, “I miss you, too.”
He rolled his eyes. “Sure.”
He grabbed a towel from the bench and threw it at me. As I stretched to grab it, the muscle in my left shoulder pinched and I almost dropped it.
Laughing, I tried to hide my discomfort. “I’m serious. It’s strange never having Camden around anymore. I actually want to listen to his crappy music.”
His eyes on my left shoulder, perceptive, Royal asked, “What’s up with that?”
I gave in and rubbed my fingers into the muscle. “What? I’m not allowed to miss my roommate and his depressing music either?”
“Your shoulder? You’re favoring it when you swim. Tonight’s the first night you’ve come anywhere close to your usual times. Is it bothering you?”
“It’s fine, a little tight is all.” I averted my eyes and headed toward the locker room.
Royal’s cool fingers rested on my shoulder, stopping me in place. “What do you mean it’s a little tight?”
“Jesus, can you two talk about your sex lives later? I’m wilting away from hunger. Pizza at Stacks, remember?” Corbin breezed by, his big, goofy smile reaching his eyes.
“You’re disgusting.” Royal dropped his hand from my shoulder and playfully shoved the back of Corbin’s head.
“You love it.” Corbin flashed us another grin before escaping behind the locker room door.
“You going with us to get pizza?” Royal asked, distracted from his previous interest in my shoulder.
Hating that I had to be thankful to Corbin for anything, I nodded.
Unconvinced, he asked, “Why don’t I believe you?”
Guilt burrowed inside my stomach. I’d let the distance between us linger, made him doubt our friendship, made him think he wasn’t worth my time anymore. I was such an asshole.
I lifted my chin, and my lips formed into a wolfish grin. With the mask in place, I found the pieces of myself Royal needed, the captain he couldn’t let go of. “I wouldn’t miss it, not even for that redhead in my Calculus class.”
Royal’s smile stretched across his face as he cupped the back of my neck with
his palm, pulling his forehead to mine with a chuckle, he said, “I really have missed you.”
The soles of my shoes were sticky with spilled beer and liquor as I walked toward the group of booths near the back. Most of the team had packed themselves like sardines around the pool table, drinking beer, scarfing pizza, and flirting with the usual sorority girls. The scene at Stacks hadn’t changed since I’d started at St. Peter’s my freshman year. The only difference tonight was that I’d chosen to be good. Scratch that, I had to be good. I could drink from the pitchers of beer offered, chat up some chick, and maybe even get a blow job before the night was over, but I had to try. I owed it to myself, to the team, to try. My race times were inconsistent, sucking air and water into my lungs like a rookie. It didn’t help that my shoulder felt like shit for the most part, but I hadn’t had a sip of alcohol since the beginning of the semester, and already the pain had begun to improve. I hadn’t wanted to die after weight training with Royal this morning, and tonight, despite the ache, I’d made my best time at practice since our last meet back in December.
Instead of pushing my way through the pack of wolves around the pool table, I decided to slide into the booth with Camden and Royal, not giving a damn about the few outliers glaring at me. The ones who’d blamed Royal for “ruining the team.” Sure, most of the guys were chill with the gay kid in the locker room, but there was a small minority that hated. I could see it in the way they watched him in the showers, see it in the way they clenched their teeth when he walked out onto the mark, felt it in the way they watched me and wondered if I was secretly into guys, too. I only hoped Royal hadn’t caught on yet, he deserved his happiness.
“It’s packed tonight.” Royal shot Camden an apologetic smile.
“I’m surprised you’re here.” I chuckled and elbowed Camden.
“I don’t mind it as much anymore.” Camden’s silver-green gaze was only for Royal.
“We don’t have to stay long.” Royal reached across the table and covered Camden’s hand. His thumb tracing long lines against his skin.
The gesture would have never happened last semester. All the things I thought I’d lost, in this moment, seemed selfish. I stood up for this, for these two people. Their intimacy, out for the world to see, it cracked me open in a way that hurt. The pain of it spread down my chest and ribs, reminding me how alone I’d allowed myself to become. No alcohol-induced numbness to hide behind, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it to myself, I loved it. This feeling… as I took a deep breath, this feeling that hurt, I welcomed it. Welcomed the warning that I was alive somewhere inside this shell.
Seven Shades of You Page 4