Chapter 21 #2
“I just … every other not straight or nonbinary person I know seems to have always … been . Even if they struggled with it, they knew it was there. A part of them, the whole time. Right? Like, have you always known you’re gay?”
“I—I mean, basically.”
“It didn’t hit me until really recently that I’m bi.
And besides the main struggles about where I go from here about it, I’m also having a hard time getting past why it took this long.
Why it took seventeen years, kissing a boy at a party, and then another year after that and kissing a boy at a party again .
And even then, I was so convinced that, obviously, I was straight.
Every thought I had about you was like, Who cares it was just a kiss and Every guy’s jacked off to the thought of another guy .
There was this big, stubborn wall that wouldn’t let me see myself clearly until it was too hard to ignore.
Before that, one kiss and how it affected me didn’t define me.
I got to drop it, forget about it, and go on living. ”
“Until now.”
“Until now.”
“You know that it doesn’t make you any less bi just because you didn’t realize it until you were eighteen, right?
There are so many reasons that happens, so don’t belittle yourself.
You said so yourself, how so much of your life won’t let you be; it could’ve just been survival, Gabi.
And you shouldn’t beat yourself up over that. ”
“So, what? Now my brain is like, I found a reason that makes me want to stop hiding this from myself?”
“Maybe so. Hell, you’re doing a paper on a philosopher who would probably be the biggest supporter of people finding their queerness later than most, assuming he’s not queerphobic. Also, it’d be kind of iconic of me to be the guy who made your brain say, ‘Worth it.’ ”
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 just like 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 couple of 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.
But I hate 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. ”
I’m more scared than I’ve ever been. I’m changing in real time, and maybe, just like growth spurts, I should’ve expected this to be a little painful.
Coolidge and Pops all, “Just you wait,” and here I am, as someone who is, by the minute, becoming a person who is so different from who I was a year ago or even only a few months ago.
Who’s realizing all these times in my life that I thought were purely inconsequential, not anything that defines me, were actually little hints that would eventually show me a part of myself that had been chilling in the back somewhere this whole time.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he answers. “I am.”
Sitting here with Vale, those scary parts don’t seem so terrifying.
The idea of embracing the change feels exciting, actually.
And, with him, it feels okay to acknowledge that I’m getting my bearings here.
It’s okay to admit that I am and very much like being bi.
Especially right now, I really like being bi.
I wish I could give him more. I wish I could tell the world and know I’ll only receive good back.
I wish he could experience the down-bad romantic side of me that every girl I’ve ever talked to and got to exist with out in the open saw.
That I could hold him or kiss him in public without worrying about what everyone else thinks.
“I want to be where you find happiness too.”
“You are,” Vale says. “More than I ever could’ve imagined that first night I met you.”
“And if I tell you I want you to be mine?”
“Then I will be. For as long as I can.”
My dreams have to come first. Always. But, as I kiss Vale, as we roll over and he lies underneath me, his legs coming up and around my hips as one kiss turns into many, I can’t imagine being okay without him. I can’t imagine being okay giving him up.
I want a while. I want as long as I can get.
And I kiss him with that same desperation and need.
I kiss his neck and shoulders, my mouth leaving a mark on his clavicle, on his side, at his hips.
Places no one will see when he’s wearing a shirt, but he’ll know they’re there.
Every time he undresses, he’ll see them and remember me telling him I want him to be mine.
I tickle him and let every laugh he lets out scratch a part of my brain that only he’s ever been able to reach.
I kiss his palms and the inside of his thighs—leaving another mark there.
I kiss down his spine and let my tongue trail down farther and farther until he’s moaning my name while I’m eating him out.
And then, with less technique than he has but a lot of enthusiasm (paired with a couple fingers going wild on his prostate), I suck him off until his legs are shaking and I’m swallowing him down.
Vale, with a wanting smile, tells me, “Your turn,” taking his time with me as I sit with my back against the wall, bringing me right to the edge with his mouth before coming up for air and kissing up and down my body.
Over and over again until I can’t even speak coherently, begging him to keep going, my entire body shaking, and I nearly black out coming down his throat for what feels like entire minutes.
And then we shower, with so much more kissing, and I hold Vale under the water, my face in his neck, gently pressing my lips there, eyes closed, committing last night and this morning to memory.
Because when this ultimately hits a wall, I want to remember that it was good. That it was perfect. That I embraced change. I’ve escaped the cave. I’ve seen the sun.
And it is beautiful and good.