Futbolista

Chapter 16 #2

They nod and squeeze my hand, keeping our eye contact going for a few more seconds before letting out another sigh.

“Okay. Okay. I believe you. And I’m perfectly aware that friendships can exist. I’m not trying to scare you away from anything you have with Vale.

It’s totally fine, and really, really great of you to have a close same-gender friendship with someone who’s queer—”

“Because it doesn’t matter to me.”

“And not everything has to be sexual or romantic—”

“Exactly.”

“I get that, and I embrace it.”

“Cool.”

“But if it was, or if you wanted it to be, you know I’d support you. Both of you.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Their eyes squint into a glare. “Don’t be sassy.

I was trying to be serious and ready for a vulnerable moment.

Still, even if y’all are just friends, I know what it’s like to feel a type of way about someone who’s never going to feel that way back.

And I … he’s a good guy. The small amount of time we’ve spent together tells me that much.

I know neither of us wants to see him get hurt—”

“What? Am I leading him on? Did he say something? He’s literally talking to a guy right now, Kat, and—”

“ C á lmate, Gabo. No. I promise, you’re doing nothing wrong.

He’s just—it’s obvious he likes you. Even if he’s talking to someone.

And, because I’ve known you for longer than a couple hours, I know that you have this natural flirtatiousness about you that doesn’t filter for gender.

You’re the only one who can volley right back to Orlando when he starts getting a little fruity. ”

I let out a huff, my mouth going into a smirk. “Yeah, it doesn’t mean anything between the two of us. P é rez is just being a pendejo.”

“Unfortunately, he is very straight. Y es un pendejo. But, then, when it’s between you and Vale?”

My hands grip the bar tight, until it starts burning.

I turn to look at anything else; the water fountain, the signs pointing to the locker rooms, the mural of waves painted across one wall.

Something to focus on that’s neither Kat nor me.

“I— No. It’s just, like, playing around.

I’m being the pendejo in that situation. ”

“That’s not— I’m not saying you are. But I am saying that there are differences.

Giving him your jacket. And when we were playing FIFA, I thought maybe I was sensing something happening there.

Like, I know the rest of the house jokes about it, and, yeah, they don’t mean anything by it, but I was hoping nothing they said was getting a little too close to home or making you uncomfortable.

And if anyone on the team says anything about who you’re friends with—”

“How was I?” I push myself off the bar, taking a step back as my hands go to the back of my head, and I start rocking my feet back and forth. “What made you think something was happening ?”

“All I’m saying is that I’ve never seen you look at your roommates the way you would glance at him.

Whenever you’d make a goal and turn your head around, like you were trying to impress him.

And you were fully leaning on his leg. You had your arm and hand, like, on his thigh for a while when you were talking to him. ”

“Excuse me for trying to be comfortable on the floor. And for taking the floor so the rest of y’all could fit on the couch.”

“ Sassiness. I get it, okay? I was reading into it. I got a little excited about the prospect and thought that my ability to recognize familia was going off and, for that, I apologize. You can absolutely be straight and have those Frank Ocean vinyls hanging on your wall.”

“Was that sarcasm?”

“Nope. Promise.”

I stand in silence, staring at the mirror at the far side of the room.

At myself. Did Kat watch me looking at him and see the words “I jacked off while thinking about this guy sitting next to me and honestly it was kind of great” written big and red across my face?

Was it so obvious to them how Vale’s actually, since then, become a regular guest star when I’m stroking one out, and, at this point, I’m not really trying to stop it?

At first it was more of a “surely I couldn’t actually get off thinking about him again , right? ”

I did. I very much did. And I have been a lot since then. Had to order a whole new bottle of lube and another set of hand towels so I’m not having to constantly wash the three I was rotating through.

But that doesn’t mean I actually want something with him. There are lots of other people I could think about and they’d have no problem getting me to nut. And it’s not as if Vale’s the first guy I’ve ever jacked off to. He just happens to be in my head a lot already.

And, “We’re just friends. I … I’m—”

We are. That’s the truth. Even if there’s something in my gut that’s, for the first time, uncomfortable with thinking of Vale as my friend .

Kat nods back as they softly tell me, “Okay. Again, I’m sorry if I crossed a line. We’re good, right?”

“Yeah,” I say, just as quietly. “But I—I need to go. Is that cool?”

“Of course, Gabo. I can put up the weights. I’ll see you later.”

We’re good. No freaking out whatsoever. No nearly tripping over a mat on the way out. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Nothing at all.

What did Kat do to me?

It feels like a Band-Aid’s been ripped off me before the bleeding has slowed down, and now there’s nothing to stop it. But also like I didn’t even realize there’s been a Band-Aid on me until right now. I didn’t realize there was a part of me trying to bleed out and now there’s red everywhere.

And now it’s three in the morning, I’m wide awake, and I’ve been sitting at the kitchen island for I don’t know how long, staring at my Stanley, full of water still from when I filled it at some point before I sat down.

I’m here instead of in my bed, asleep, because, obviously, everything is great and perfect and normal.

This is exactly what I do whenever I’m not on the verge of panicking. Freaking out? Couldn’t be me.

What did Kat fucking do to me?

I know I like girls. I like girls a lot. I know all the things that attract me to girls. With Leana, for example, it’d be an easy list to fill out.

“Actually,” I mutter, reaching over for my phone and pulling up the Notes app. I’m going to do this super officially, so that way I can see it in front of me. I type Things I liked about Leana at the top and then start going.

1.

I like her smile.

2.

I like the way she teases me.

3.

I like how expressive she gets when she talks about something she’s interested in.

4.

I like the way everything felt grounded for a while when I was with her.

5.

How I couldn’t help but smile anytime I thought about her.

6.

How easy everything felt with her.

7.

How good it felt kissing her.

8.

How hot she is.

And just because I’m feeling like it wouldn’t hurt to mention, even just to myself—

9.

I like how good she looked with her legs on my shoulders.

10.

And how nice my name sounded coming out of her mouth.

There. I could go further, no doubt, but this is a good start. Getting any further into double digits might look obsessive if someone found this. I give it a look over, and, yeah, it’s not like Vale would check off all these too. That would be wild.

Right?

I do like his smile. I like his smile a lot.

I like it when he teases me. I like how he gets when he talks about philosophy and X-Men and all the ways Xavier was kind of a little bitch.

I like how things feel easy with him. At least, they did.

And maybe that—just being comfortable around him—is what Kat is mistaking for wanting to be his boyfriend or something.

Being around him feels like this really comforting space away from the rest of the world and all the expectations everyone else has of me.

He makes me smile just thinking about him.

Even now, while I’m fucking going through it, I’m smiling thinking about him.

How excited he was when he brought the comic that introduced Roberto to class one morning for me.

He is one of the best kissers I’ve ever kissed.

The best . And I’ve admitted that he’s a good-looking guy.

And yes, I’ve had thoughts about him that have involved his legs on my shoulders.

And (theoretically) I didn’t hate it. He looked really good.

I’ll admit that too, in the quiet loneliness of the kitchen.

And that he sounded really, really good with my name on his lips.

Even in normal situations, something in my chest reacts to the way he says Gabi .

“Fuck , ” I groan, my head thudding onto the island counter.

I swipe out of Notes and go to my texts, scrolling until I end up at Kat. And, slowly, my fingers start pressing letters. I think I’m b

And then I delete it all, setting my phone back on the island and pushing it away from me.

Because what happens then? If I, this second, said, “Okay, I maybe feel a type of way about Vale that might look like crushing, like something romantic, like something … bisexual . So similar to the way I felt about any of the girls I was into or dated,” what does that change? What’s the next step here?

Realistically, nothing.

Even if those words don’t sound like a lie, it can’t change anything.

I can’t like guys. I can’t be bi. And not because it feels wrong. It doesn’t. When I sit with that word, nothing in my head says, “No. I’m not bisexual. Hell nah.”

I think of Barrera and wonder if he wouldn’t treat me with the same disrespect he gave to some Florida boy he’s never met before. I’d like to believe that I’d still have a team to belong to. That, if it’s me, his little bro , “the best goalkeeper TAMUCC’s ever had,” he’d see it differently.

And I think of Pops and what he told me. Go find what matters. Embrace the parts of myself that terrify me. I don’t know if this is what he had in mind. And I don’t want to put him or myself in a spot where we have to find out that it’s not.

And this isn’t how I wanted to relate to my Philosophy class. If this is me growing, changing, finding my way toward who I actually am, then yeah, I am scared of change. I don’t want it.

I want to be one of the world’s best goalkeepers.

I want little Mexican kids who look like me to see me and know they can be great too.

I want to see crowds of people wearing kits with my name on them.

That’s got to be my focus. No room for debate.

No time for philosophizing about this. Because I know for a fact that my people aren’t ready.

Fans can be great, and Mexicans are some of the best football fans in the world.

But I also know they come with their fill of homophobia.

I—nah. There’s no room for a brown, bi, mexicano futbolista.

I can’t expect all dads who look like mine to be as cool as Vale’s was.

If I have to choose between my name on a professional kit one day or saying those words out loud and making them true, I’ll swallow them down. Keep them inside until I forget about them.

Shit, thinking about it, I’ve already done that once. What’s one more time?

And maybe that’s cowardly of me. Maybe I’m giving up way too easily. But I’m not ready to find out how hard I’d have to fight just to be seen holding Vale’s hand. Just to say the words “I’m bisexual.”

Wild how I get told I challenge normalcy.

How I want to be someone who does. Who isn’t afraid to stick up for other people.

But when it comes to me? I’m so scared of falling out of line.

Of being someone who exists off that line.

Of being “not normal.” I said I wanted to see the sun, but when I’m handed the keys to my chains?

I drop them. I kick them away. I stay staring at the wall.

It’s what I should be doing. It’s the smarter choice here.

Go on never knowing what there is to gain.

Because I’ve got everything to lose.