Chapter 2
Asking for a Friend
Gavin
The cool January air burns my lungs as I launch the shot put across the field. It arcs through the clear blue sky before landing with a satisfying thunk, kicking up a small cloud of dirt inside the circle. Not my best, but decent for the first week of the spring semester's practice.
"Nice throw, Gavin-san!" Haru calls from the sidelines. He's bundled in so many layers he looks like a walking parka with legs, clipboard clutched against his chest like it might fly away.
I jog over, toweling off my neck. Despite the cool weather, I've worked up a sweat.
"Thanks. Still getting back into the rhythm after winter break."
Haru pushes his glasses up and consults his notes. "According to my research, your personal record is still .3 meters short of the university record.
I laugh. "Always keeping me humble, Haru."
"I meant no offence," he says quickly, eyes widening. "Your progress is most impressive considering your primary sport is football."
"Relax, I'm teasing." I bump his shoulder gently. "Besides, breaking records isn't why I'm here."
"Your scholarship," Haru nods seriously.
"Scholarships, plural," I correct, grabbing my water bottle. "Football covers most of it, track fills in the gaps, and the academic one handles books and my extra meal plan."
Haru tilts his head. "I still do not understand why you hide your intelligence from your friends and teammates."
I shrug, watching the rest of the track team practicing across the field. "People see what they expect to see. Six-foot-four guy built like a refrigerator? Must be all muscle, no brain."
"It is most perplexing," Haru mutters. "In Japan, athletes who excel academically are celebrated."
"Welcome to America," I grin. "Land of weird stereotypes."
Coach Wilson blows his whistle, signalling a five-minute break. It's perfect timing, as we've got frat recruitment to discuss.
"So," I say, leading Haru to a bench, "about our diversity mission. Any ideas for getting non-traditional guys interested in Delta Psi?"
I asked Haru as a ‘maybe pledge’ if he would help me find potential guys who might not otherwise consider Greek life. Drew's mission this year is to make our house the most inclusive on campus.
"I have compiled a list," Haru says, flipping pages on his clipboard with impressive efficiency. "Several international students expressed interest after learning I was considering pledging. Also, the gaming club has three freshmen who might consider it if approached correctly."
"Nice work." I look at his careful notes. "What about your friends? The guys you live with?"
Haru hesitates. "They are... how do I say it... Super nerds? Very intelligent but socially anxious. Most are in science or pre-medicine tracks."
"Perfect," I say. "That's exactly who we need. Guys with different perspectives."
"They were not receptive when I suggested it before," Haru admits. "May I ask why this diversity initiative is so important to you personally?"
The question catches me off guard. It's perceptive, which is typical of Haru, but still hits close to home.
"I guess..." I pause, trying to articulate what I've never said aloud. "I know what it's like to be put in a box. Football player. Jock. People think they know everything about me from those labels."
I spin the shot put in my hand, feeling its familiar weight. "Fraternities can be the same way. People think it's beer pong and backwards ballcaps. But the guys have become my brothers… They have been family to me. Everyone deserves that chance."
What I don't say aloud is my personal mission.
Maybe if we have more gay brothers, I can figure out what the hell is going on with me.
Tyler's my best friend, so he's out, and I sure as fuck ain't looking at his man Ethan.
If I looked at Caleb that way, James would make sure I was indicted for tax fraud or something equally scary.
"That is most admirable," Haru says earnestly. His eyes drift past me, and I notice his posture straighten and his cheeks flush slightly.
I follow his gaze to Jamal, our quarterback, running wind sprints on the adjacent field. The football team often practices alongside us in the outdoor facility during winter.
"See something you like?" I tease.
Haru's face goes from pink to crimson. "I am merely observing the training techniques of American football players," he says formally, which tells me I've hit the mark.
"Jamal is single, you know," I offer casually.
"I do not, that is not, I would never presume—" Haru splutters, then narrows his eyes. "You are diverting attention from yourself, Gavin-san."
"What do you mean?"
"I notice you observe certain male athletes with similar interests," he says carefully.
The shot put suddenly feels ten pounds heavier in my hand. My pulse quickens.
"I'm just..." I start, then stop. What am I doing, exactly? The truth is, I don't know. I just know that lately, I've been noticing things. Different things. Men, specifically.
Haru immediately backpedals. "Please forgive my impertinence. It is not my place—"
"No, it's okay," I say, surprising myself. "I'm... figuring things out."
Haru blinks at me, his dark eyes widening slightly. "You are...?" The question hangs delicately in the air between us, neither accusatory nor presumptuous.
I roll the shot put between my palms, feeling its weight ground me as I struggle to say what I've barely admitted to myself. The fluorescent lights suddenly seem too bright.
"I don't know what I am," I admit finally, my voice dropping lower so it doesn't carry across the training space.
"That's the honest truth. But yeah, I'm questioning some stuff.
" The words feel both scary and freeing as they leave my mouth. It’s the first time I've admitted this aloud to anyone, let alone someone I've only recently become friends with.
Usually, everything I think about goes through Tyler, but this time… I don't know yet why I’m not talking to him.
Instead of shock or judgment, Haru's face softens with understanding. "Whatever conclusion you reach, I am most supportive."
"Thanks, man."
"Though I must say, you present as extremely heterosexual," he adds with complete seriousness.
This makes me laugh. "What does that even mean?"
"Your demeanour, your clothing choices, your social interactions—" Haru begins listing with precision before I cut him off.
"Okay, okay. I get it. I'm a walking straight-guy stereotype."
"Stereotypes are often misleading," Haru says wisely. "As you yourself pointed out."
Coach's whistle blows again, signalling the end of our break.
"Can we talk about the recruiting over lunch?" I suggest. "Tyler and Ethan are meeting us at the dining hall."
"Most excellent," Haru says, making a note on his clipboard. "I shall bring my complete list of potential pledges."
Forty-five minutes later, freshly showered and changed, I spot Tyler and Ethan at our usual table by the windows in the dining hall.
They're sitting close, Tyler's arm casually draped over the back of Ethan's chair. Deep in my chest there’s a twinge, not jealousy exactly, but a longing for that kind of easy relationship.
"Hey, Golden Retriever!" Tyler calls out, using the nickname I can't seem to shake. "Over here!"
"I see you," I call back, moving through the lunch crowd with Haru trailing behind me.
Ethan waves, his reddish-blonde hair catching the sunlight. "Gavin! Haru! How was practice?"
"Most invigorating," Haru answers, setting his tray down with mathematical precision. "Gavin-san exceeded his previous distance by 0.6 meters."
"Translation: he crushed it," Tyler grins, fist-bumping me as I sit down.
"Just getting started," I shrug, digging into my double portion of chicken and rice. Track and football require serious calories.
Tyler leans forward. "So, recruitment. Drew's been all over my ass about the diversity numbers."
"We are making significant progress," Haru says, pulling out his clipboard.
"Dude, do you shower with that thing?" Ethan laughs.
"That would be most impractical," Haru responds seriously, missing the joke. "Paper products and water are not compatible."
I smile, watching my friends. Tyler, VP of Delta Psi and my best friend since freshman year, only came out as bi a few months ago at our Halloween party. Now he and Ethan, a nursing student and a former wallflower, are inseparable.
Tyler's different since he came out. Looser. More himself. The psych nerd in me wants to slap labels on it: authentic self-expression, decreased anxiety markers, whatever, but honestly?
Dude's happy. That's the whole diagnosis.
"Gavin? Earth to Gavin?" Tyler waves his hand in front of my face.
"Sorry," I blink. "Thinking about recruitment."
"Yeah, right," Ethan smirks. "You had your psychoanalyzing face on."
"I was not psychoanalyzing," I protest.
"You totally were," Tyler laughs. "What's my diagnosis, Dr. Robins?"
Before I can answer, a familiar voice booms across the dining hall.
"Yo! GR!"
I turn to see a group of offensive linemen heading our way, trays loaded with enough food to feed a small country. Jeff and Marcos, Delta Psi brothers, along with DeShawn, Devon, and Jamal from the team.
"My dudes!" I stand for the ritual fist bumps and shoulder slaps that football players can never seem to avoid. "Good practice?"
"Coach is killing us with those new drills," DeShawn complains, dropping into an empty chair. "Off-season is supposed to be chill."
"Tell that to the championship we're gunning for next season," Jamal counters.
Jamal, our quarterback and the object of Haru's earlier attention, smiles at our table. "Mind if we join?"
"Please do," Haru says, his normally perfect English suddenly stiff and formal. "There is adequate seating for additional persons at this table."
I hide my smile behind my water bottle. Haru's crush isn't exactly subtle, at least not to me.