Lace

Chapter 1

One

Heat, sweat and noise. It should be just like a dance floor, but it wasn’t.

The squawk of sneakers on the gymnasium floor, shouts from the players, and cheers from the crowd cut through the heavy heat of too many bodies in too small a space.

The stench of old sweat accompanied by the reek of over-sprayed perfume on the MILF seated in front of him, had Caleb’s stomach in a twist. He’d never really caught on to the appeal of sporting events.

Usually, he avoided them like the plague, but Levi had wanted to come to support their friends on the team.

Since Caleb had the worst time saying no to his man, here they were.

Except, he could only take so much.

Excusing himself, trying not to trip over the feet of the people he had to climb over in the bleachers, he scrambled to the end of the row and jumped down. He hadn’t planned to hide in the washroom of the gym, but he was relieved to find the place empty when he entered.

The grease of sweat under his make-up made him want to wash it all off. Instead, he gripped the sides of the sink and avoided glaring at himself in the mirror.

That emo place he hated was crowding into his head, and he wanted to have fun. Enjoy Levi’s company.

“Fuck.” He turned on the water, letting it run into the sink and losing his thoughts in the white noise. He was too warm. Too jittery. He wanted the safety and quiet of Levi’s dorm room.

He ran his palms over his jeans, tugging at the tight material, stomped his feet, the weight of his boots and jingle of chains and buckles arrayed around his body soothing him somewhat.

Through the blue fringe of his hair, he looked at the blurred lower half of his body and could almost feel like himself if he took the time to remember what the jeans hid.

But he avoided, for one more moment, seeing the floppy hoodie he’d thrown on over his own top.

The only saving grace of the ugly garment was that it belonged to his boyfriend.

Pulling the hoodie up to his nose, Levi’s scent clinging to it overpowered the other, less appetizing scents of the basketball game.

Glancing in the mirror, past his own shoulder, he surveyed the still empty room. If it stayed that way for just a few more seconds…

His fingers trembled just enough to make him fumble the zipper, but he managed to get a grip on it and yank it down.

The tight vest underneath appeared; black cotton offset by brilliant blue lace to match his hair.

There wasn’t much lace. A bit of trim and a stretch of it across his back. But enough.

Behind him, the door banged. Voices echoed off the tile walls. Laughter bounced and shouts filled the room to overflowing as he jerked the zipper back up.

It caught on a bit of lace and stuck.

The laughter stopped abruptly.

Caleb looked up, meeting a glittering, focused glare in the mirror. The man’s face twisted into a sneer and he mouthed a single word, “ Pussy .”

Caleb flushed. “Fuck off, asshole.”

All three men who had entered the bathroom snickered as they lined up at the urinals. The biggest of them, Larry Shank shouldered Caleb hard as he walked by, making him catch himself on the edge of the counter to keep from slamming into the mirror.

“Asshole,” Caleb muttered again, shutting off the water and hurrying for the door. More snickering chased his retreat, and it was all he could do to clench his fists and get the hell out without taking a swing at the guy.

Larry Shank was nothing new. Caleb had endured taunts from jerks like the overweight hockey player his entire life. He should be used to it. He should be able to ignore it. This wasn’t high school, and he wasn’t a skinny kid anymore.

Hell, Shank wouldn’t even be at the university if he wasn’t a behemoth who could skate. It certainly wasn’t because he was an intellectual titan. Larry Shank would be no one as soon as he aged off the Ontario Hockey League. Everyone knew he wasn’t NHL material.

Caleb had talent, and was already running his own business, teaching elementary students to play guitar. Those kids looked up to him, their parents appreciated him, so what Shank thought of him shouldn’t matter.

Out in the corridor, around the corner where no one would wander by, he slouched against the wall, gently fiddling with his zipper until the lace was free, then pulling it up until no part of the more delicate clothing beneath was visible.

He knew it was there, though, and wished just knowing could be enough.

It wasn’t.

Sliding until his ass hit the floor, he stayed there, listening to the waves of cheering and booing and catcalls from inside the gym.

He sat, knees pressed together, hands pushed deep into the pockets of the hoodie.

A trickle of sweat meandered down his spine.

He should have just removed the delicate, lace-trimmed vest Levi had lent him the sweater to hide.

But the way Levi had draped the sweater over his shoulders—the way he’d zipped it up carefully and smiled, intimating that the vest was Caleb’s private business and Levi was willing to protect that privacy—had convinced him not to take it off.

Roaring cheers and taunts ebbed and flowed from the gym, and he hunched his shoulders, trying to block out the chaos.

Concentrating, he listened to the faint music he’d been working on for weeks now.

He hadn’t written any of it down, yet. He didn’t need to.

He could hear it, and he knew he could play it.

He just had to find the opportunity and the right audience.

A hank of his blue-dyed hair flopped into his eyes and he tossed his head to get it out of the way, tried to tuck it behind one ear with his fingertips, and immediately cringed at the girliness of the motion.

“Hey.” Feet came into view in front of him. A pair of battered red Converse sneakers he knew well.

“Hey,” he replied without looking up.

He’d disappointed Levi by leaving the game before the end. Hell, he’d disappointed himself by not being able to stick it out through one lousy game.

“Had enough?” Levi slipped down the wall at his side.

“Sorry.”

“Nah.” Levi bumped him with his shoulder. “It was a massacre anyway.” He fell silent for a minute and Caleb slowly gravitated until his head rested on Levi’s shoulder.

“Something happened,” Levi said quietly after a few more minutes had passed.

“Doesn’t matter.” Caleb reached for his hand. “We can go back in. I just needed a breather.”

“It’s fine. We don’t have to.”

Caleb listened for the stretch of Levi’s voice over the truth. He hadn’t asked Caleb to come to the game with him because he didn’t care if they watched it or not. He cared. He wanted to be here, and he was giving it up because it made Caleb uncomfortable.

“I’m all right.” He squeezed Levi’s fingers. “Promise.”

Beside him, Levi rose to his feet, bringing Caleb up with him. “Game’s almost over,” he said, a hopeful tilt to his voice and his head.

Caleb nodded, though he didn’t let go of Levi’s hand for an instant, and may have clamped his fingers tighter than necessary around his lover’s as they entered the gym.

He couldn’t help a glance around, looking for the latest in the long string of his harassers.

It took only a matter of seconds to feel the burn of Shank’s glare on him.

He shuddered and looked away, grateful for Levi’s hand in his and the shorter man’s touch at the small of his back, sneaking under the sweater to caress the lace.

The warmth of those fingers through the thin material grounded Caleb as he climbed up to their seats in the bleachers and he relaxed slightly. He could stand this for a little while longer if it made Levi happy.

They hadn’t really been back watching for long when hot breath and an even hotter tongue tickled Caleb’s ear and he squirmed.

“You want to go so bad, don’t you, babe?” Levi said.

“We can stay.” He shifted, crossing his legs so his knees pressed against Levi’s thigh. “Long as you want.”

He wiggled his bony ass on the hard seat and tilted his head so he felt that breath ghost over his jaw. Levi’s lips touched down lightly.

Fluttering his lashes, Caleb revelled in the goose bumps that skittered over his skin. The contended sigh he loosed was genuine.

Levi caressed his cheek with a gentle thumb, just under his eye, and he wondered if his eyeliner had smudged again.

He smiled at the thought, glancing at Levi.

“Bit of black powder there,” Levi muttered, a pink flush infusing his cheeks, though he grinned and winked. “I got you.”

Levi seemed to like Caleb dishevelled sometimes, but never let him get that way in public. “You’re making me crazy,” Levi whispered in his ear.

Caleb turned his attention back to the game. “Just sitting here,“ he said, all innocence. “Look.” He pointed to the game. “The ball’s moving.”

Levi snickered. “I know you aren’t into this.” He knocked his shoulder into Caleb’s and smirked.

“No.” Caleb licked his lips and lifted his chin. “I’m into you.” He turned to focus on Levi for one, intense moment. “Or, I will be, soon enough.”

“Mean!” Levi complained. Though his tone was as teasing as Caleb’s, his gaze was hot and he licked his lips and yanked Caleb closer to him on the bench.

Caleb grinned. It was something to be able to reduce Levi to this muttering, frustrated creature he knew he would be able to have his way with later.

Much as he didn’t give a rat’s ass about the basketball game itself, this was a far cry from the high school football games he’d actively loathed.

Smashed between hordes of other students, trying desperately to follow the rules of a game he didn’t care about, he’d always wished fervently he could be anywhere else.

Supporting his uncle, who’d insisted he be there, though he never actually acknowledged Caleb’s presence in the stands, had felt pointless when that support never went the other way.