When I Grow Up (Tales from Foster High)

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When I Grow Up (Tales from Foster High) Page 8

by John Goode


  “He into baseball?” I shook my head. “Any sports?” Another shake. “He ever date girls?”

  “Why do you assume I dated girls?”

  He laughed and sat down on another bench. “Because guys like us spend most of high school hiding the fact we like guys because people will freak. Did anyone know about you guys dating or was it on the DL?”

  “We came out the middle of senior year.” Something about all Colt’s questions bugged me.

  “Wow, really? Like as in to the whole school?” I nodded. “Dude, was that your idea?”

  “Yeah, it was,” I said, thinking it over a second. “He was getting bullied and I liked him, so I told everyone I was into guys too so they’d lay off him.”

  He stared at me for a few seconds and then shook his head, grinning. “So you aren’t just built like a superhero but you are one as well?”

  I was a superhero? No, that was Kyle. I was….

  What was I?

  “Anyway, I’m glad you guys are happy,” He didn’t sound happy, but what was the point in me bringing it up? Something was hinky, and I couldn’t figure it out.

  “When did you come out?” I asked him as I lay back on the bench.

  “I guess I haven’t yet. I mean, my parents don’t know, but they live in Wyoming so they’ll never understand. I don’t talk to any of my old friends anymore. When I moved out here, I just reinvented myself and said fuck it.”

  “So you’re a bartender now?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, stupid good tips and great hours. Hey, you know, they’re looking for a barback; you grab ice and boxes for us and we give you a cut of the tips. Also, not a bad place to meet some hotties.”

  “Dude, I just said I was seeing someone.”

  “Yeah, but you’re young, man. Don’t want to limit your options.”

  “You ready to work out or what?” I asked him, and I knew I sounded done with all the questions.

  “Sure,” he said, getting up. “What you putting up?”

  “I’m just doing some warm-ups, then I’ll put some real weight on,” I explained as I lifted the bar off the rack.

  Colt stood over me, watching me intently as I did some warm-up reps. “You have an amazing chest, dude.” I paused and stared at him, making no attempt to hide the fact that I was more than done with his attitude. He added quickly, “Not hitting on you, I swear. That was jealousy.”

  I chuckled and finished my reps.

  “So is this guy your first boyfriend?” Colt asked as he lay down on the bench.

  “Yeah,” I said a little defensively.

  “Hey, no judgment,” he added quickly. “Probably better than the way I did it.”

  “Did what?”

  “Come out. Be gay. Be a grown-up.” He saw the confusion in my eyes. “Sex, dude. When I realized I could have sex with whoever I wanted, I probably did it wrong.”

  He lifted the bar up and I asked, “What did you do?”

  “You ever heard of a scavenger hunt?” I nodded. “Well, instead of finding random things, I just fucked random guys. You’re tall? Check. You’re short? Check. You’re tan? Check.”

  I started laughing and he put the bar back up.

  “I mean it, man. I slept with more men than are named in the Bible. Old and New Testament.”

  I was busting out laughing.

  “See, I’m going to like you,” he said, laughing with me. “You think that was my line instead of me quoting a movie.”

  “What movie?” I asked.

  “No movie. I’m just that fucking funny,” he said smugly, which just made me laugh even more.

  “So anyway, man, you want to know what it’s like to sleep with a certain type of guy, I have hard data on it. Some of them even twice.”

  “I’ve never heard someone so proud to be a slut before,” I said, wiping my eyes.

  He shrugged. “Who cares? I’m twenty-two, hot, built like a Mack truck, hung like a mule, and don’t care who knows it. Why should I give a fuck what other people think?”

  “You ever have a boyfriend?”

  His face soured a little. “Tried; it never took with me. ’Sides, the type of guys I like never want to date.”

  “What type of guys?”

  He looked me dead in my eyes. “Like you.”

  And just like that, I stopped laughing. And I realized what the hinky feeling was. It was my mind knowing that Colt wasn’t going to give up until I flattened him.

  “We should get to the reps,” I said, ignoring the uncomfortable silence.

  “Sure,” he said, lying back down.

  Kyle

  WHEN I got to school, I went full-on Vulcan.

  To those who are geek impaired, let me explain. Vulcans are an alien race from Star Trek and, though they possess the same range of emotions the rest of us do, they have spent countless centuries mastering the art of not letting emotions affect their judgment. It is a society built on logic and science and spending a lot of time ignoring whatever might be bothering you deep down.

  I was a Vulcan from way back.

  My mom would get drunk and scream at me? Vulcan that shit and refuse to shed one tear over it. Some asshole my mom was sleeping with came in to discipline me? Vulcanized as I just stared at the far wall and tried to ignore what was happening to me. Watch people all around me having a real life while I stood there like a homeless person watching through a restaurant window while people feasted? Vulcan a persona that was nearly invisible when compared to the screaming masses of teenagers around me. Warning, though—not guaranteed to work against green-eyed boys.

  So I was miserable, pretty sure I had just seen the guy Brad was going to break up with me for, and I had absolutely no idea what to do. I was a Vulcan, which meant I had to lock that crap down and move on with my day. I’d have time later to fall apart; now was not that time. Please God, don’t let now be that time.

  Teddy was waiting outside of Professor Madison’s room.

  “Dude, you’re going to be late,” he warned, opening the door for me.

  “There’s still five minutes before the bell rings,” I said, moving past him.

  “Um, yeah,” he said, following me down the steps. “But you’re usually here earlier to set up your laptop and stuff.”

  I found a seat and started pulling my stuff out. “Since the first five minutes of class is wasted on taking roll and passing up our homework, I have more than enough time.”

  He sat down next to me and stared. “What’s wrong?”

  I looked at him, making sure my expression was as blank as a new canvas. “Nothing is wrong.”

  His voice dropped to a whisper. “Did you and your guy get into it? ’Cause you look upset.”

  “I don’t look anything,” I replied, hoping he would drop it.

  “Yeah, ’cause hiding outrage and pain is a skill only you have mastered. Come on, man, you can talk to me.”

  “Nothing is wrong,” I said again, my tone flat and apathetic.

  He stared for a few seconds and then sighed. “Okay, I’ll back off. But if you need to talk, I’m right here.”

  He began unpacking his stuff in silence. It was obvious he was a little put off by my attitude. Who was I going to talk to? If I called Robbie, he’d say I was stupid and that all I’d seen was Brad talking with another guy. I could try to call Jennifer, but what was she going to do from Texas? Teddy was the closest thing I had to a friend, and if I didn’t start trusting him, he might not even be that.

  “So Brad got a job at a gym,” I said after a few minutes. He looked over at me and nodded. “And… I went by to surprise him….”

  “And you saw him what? Making out or talking to a hot-ass guy,” Teddy answered for me.

  “Talking. How did you know?” I asked, shocked.

  “Because that’s what perfect people do—they find other perfect people. It’s like some weird form of social magnetism. Not that you aren’t stupid cute. I’m just saying anyone who looks like your guy could get anyone
he wants. Lemme guess, Foster is a tiny town and there were no other gay people?”

  I nodded.

  “Well, now he’s in a bigger pond. There are more guys to choose from, and working at a gym? A lot of in-shape, hot guys to choose from. I’m not saying your guy will cheat on you, but every time I’ve heard this story, it ends badly for people like us.”

  “You don’t think I’m being paranoid?”

  He chuckled. “It’s not paranoia if the thing you’re afraid of happens all the time. You think people who are afraid of heights are paranoid? Fuck no, they’re afraid of falling to their deaths. Do I think a gay guy is paranoid to worry about his fine-ass boyfriend cheating on him? Again, no, because it happens more than it doesn’t.”

  “Well, you cheered me right up there,” I said bitterly.

  “Wasn’t trying to cheer you up, just trying to keep it real. You need to look out for yourself, man. You don’t have time to worry about this shit. This is freshman year. If you stumble now, you may never find your stride again. You want my advice? Throw yourself into school and let your love life work itself out. If he’s the guy you say he is, then he won’t cheat on you. If he’s like every other guy in existence, then at least you know and can move on with your life. But stopping and worrying about it? That’s a formula for failure.”

  There was a binary logic to what he was saying. Either Brad would dump me or he wouldn’t, and worrying about it wouldn’t change that outcome. All worrying would do was take me away from my studies and my goal of making a life for myself. It was the most logical advice anyone had ever given me.

  “Thanks,” I said, genuinely touched. “I needed to hear that.”

  He smiled. “No problem. Remember I’m here if you need someone, man.”

  I took a deep breath and put Brad on the back burner. This was the rest of my life, and I wasn’t missing any more of it.

  Kyle

  SO CAN you guess how the next month went?

  Yeah, about that good.

  Brad

  SO AS the days went on, my life became better and worse at the same time. It was weird— I wasn’t used to having things I liked so separated—but that seemed to be the way Kyle wanted it. I went to a month and a half of classes and ended up getting my personal trainer license, something I was pretty proud of, to be honest. Kyle seemed happy about it, but like everything else lately, it seemed distant.

  I joined Colt’s softball team and found a whole new level of love for the game.

  These guys weren’t playing for a school or a scholarship; they were playing because they wanted to, and that was awesome. Colt’s team was called the Oakland Gays, which was funny in its own way, and I became their second baseman. Kyle didn’t come to the games because of school, but he always listened when I got home and explained how the game went. There were some decent players on the other teams, but honestly no one that was on my level. That was a fact I tried to keep from going to my head, but I had to admit, I liked being the best guy in the league.

  Kyle spent more and more time at school, studying, researching, basically being Kyle, which left me with a lot of spare time. Working at the gym and playing softball helped, but I missed him pretty awful. It was during that time that we stopped having sex. Well, we stopped doing anything intimate, if I’m being honest. He was always tired or asleep by the time I got home. On the weekends I tried to get him to go do stuff, but he always seemed to be bored or just distracted, which made me even sadder.

  I wasn’t going to say anything to him, though, because I knew what school meant to him, and just because I was lonely wasn’t a reason to upset his schedule.

  It didn’t stop me from complaining to Jennifer, though.

  “So where is he now?”

  I shifted on the couch as I scrolled through Netflix looking for something to watch. “Library,” I answered, trying not to sound like a little bitch.

  “It’s like, what? Ten over there? Who stays at a library this late?”

  “Have you met Kyle?” I said, turning on Ken Burns’ baseball series. “He’s there every day this late.”

  “But it’s Friday,” she said, like that was supposed to mean something to Kyle.

  “Tell me about it. I ordered pizza and everything, and he texted me he was going to eat there.”

  She was silent for a couple of seconds, which was Jennifer for “Here comes some truth you won’t like.”

  “Brad, you need to talk to him.”

  “Nope,” I said instantly. “This is his dream. I’m not going to screw it up.”

  “What about your dreams?” she asked. “What about your life?”

  “I wanted to be with him,” I said, trying not to feel like I had wished for the wrong thing. “This is my dream.”

  “Sitting home alone on a Friday night talking to your ex-girlfriend? Dude, you need better dreams.”

  I was about to disagree with her when my phone beeped. I looked down hoping it was Kyle, but instead it was Colt. “Hold on a sec,” I said, clicking over to the other line. “What’s up, man?”

  I could hear the muted sound of a club behind him. “Brad!” he screamed, making it pretty clear he was drunk. “Where are you?”

  “I’m at home,” I said, wondering if I’d ever called anyone when I was like that.

  “Come out!” he whined. “It’s insane tonight! You don’t want to miss this.”

  “I’m waiting for Kyle to get home,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound like a housewife from a bad sitcom.

  “Bring him!” he screamed. “It’ll be fun.”

  “I’ll ask him when he gets in,” I assured him.

  “Call me back!” he screamed yet again.

  “Okay, man, I will.” I went back to Jennifer. “Sorry.”

  “Kyle?” she asked.

  “I wish. Just a guy on my softball team.”

  “Calling you on a Friday night? Hmm….”

  “Hey, Veronica Mars,” I snapped. “He knows I’m dating someone seriously. He was asking both of us to go out.” It was kind of a lie, but she didn’t need to know that.

  “Just saying, guys calling you on a Friday night is not platonic.”

  “Where’s Josh?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

  “He and Tony Wright went fishing this weekend.”

  “Fishing or Brokeback fishing?”

  “Fuck you.” She laughed.

  “Just saying, Josh is way too comfortable with his sexuality.”

  “Josh is fine with his sexuality, trust me. I’ve already dated a gay guy, and I know the difference now.”

  “That sounds a lot like you’re saying Josh is better in bed than me.”

  “I am, but you can always use the excuse I wasn’t your type, and stop trying to change the subject. You need to talk to Kyle.”

  Sighing, I shook my head. “Okay, this was a mistake. I’m gonna go, Jennifer.”

  “It wasn’t a mistake and you know I’m right.”

  “Bye.”

  “Talk to….”

  —click—

  I turned Netflix back on and waited for Kyle to get home.

  And tried not to think about how much fun it sounded like Colt was having.

  Kyle

  I GOT in around 10:30 and found him lying on the couch watching TV.

  “Hey, you,” he said, not even looking up.

  “Hey,” I said, putting my bag up. “What’s up?”

  “A lot of nothing.” He sounded bored as hell. “You wanna come lay down with me?”

  “I need to change,” I said, deflecting the question. I’d felt so cut off from him lately I couldn’t even bring myself to fool around with him. If I kissed him, all I could think about was how many kisses were left? Was he kissing that other guy? Did he want to kiss him? I trusted Brad with my life, but lately not with my heart.

  “You tired?” he asked as I threw on a new shirt.

  “Not really,” I said, hoping that wasn’t a lead-in to, “Let’s go to bed.”
<
br />   “Really?” he asked, sitting up. “You wanna do something?”

  “Like?” I asked cautiously.

  “Anything,” he said, standing. “We could… go out, maybe see if there are any midnight movies playing? Um… anything.”

  “Do you have a particular anything in mind?” I asked.

  “Um…. Colt asked if we wanted to come down to the club he works at.”

  And the other shoe dropped.

  “Colt? The guy on your softball team?” He nodded. “The guy you work out with?” Another nod. “The guy you spend all your time with asked us to go out, or you?”

  He looked honestly shocked by my tone of voice. “What’s that mean?”

  “It means what it means, Brad. Did he ask us or ask you?”

  “He asked us,” he said, getting angry. “And whose fault is it I spend all my time with him?”

  I felt a wave of shame pass through me but shook it off as I asked again, “Asked us or you?”

  “What does it matter?” he raged. “What are you implying?”

  “I didn’t imply anything,” I half lied. “I just stated a few facts and asked a question. You’re the one who’s getting mad.”

  The look on his face was one I had never seen before. It was half hurt, half anger; I wondered if this was the first time I had ever seen him truly angry. “You know I’ve tried. I have kept my mouth shut, found other things to do, all because this was what you wanted. But you come in here and accuse me of what? Cheating? Wanting to cheat? I’m confused, Kyle. What exactly are you accusing me of?”

  Now I was pissed. “So this is my fault?” I demanded. “It’s my fault you’re spending all your time with some musclebound model?”

  “He’s not a model.”

  “Right, the perfectly tousled blond hair and insanely toned body are for serving drinks.”

  Brad paused and his eyes narrowed. “How do you know what he looks like?”

  “I don’t,” I said way too quickly.

  “Seriously?” he practically screamed. “You can find time to come spy on me but you can’t actually stop and say hello or something.” He looked like he was going to say something more but then just shook his head. “Fuck this.” He pulled on his shoes. “You know what, Kyle? I have no idea what the fuck is wrong with you, but right now, I don’t care.” He stood up and picked up his keys off the table. “I told you that day by the lake that I was here until you told me to leave and I meant it. I still mean it. But if you want me to leave, be a fucking man and just tell me to leave. Because this shutting me out thing, it’s just mean.”

 

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