Kingston
Ican’t stop thinking about kissing Camden. I know I probably should, and I know it’s probably weird, but it felt good. And it seemed like he enjoyed it too.
I hate that my confidence has been shaken, but there’s no denying it has. Stephanie, a girl from our class who’s always had a crush on me, surprised me today by asking me out after the game on Friday, and I made some lame excuse.
She’s really pretty, and I’ve always liked her, but I can’t shut down the fear inside me, thinking that if it’s more than just hanging out—if we kiss or more and I suck at it—she’ll help spread that all over school. That everyone will be talking about it.
I can already feel it when I’m standing at my locker or sitting in class—the eyes on me. I wonder if Kennedy has been talking about me, but I already know the answer. I can hear the whispers, and I can barely fucking stand it.
I don’t know if messing around with Camden will help my confidence or what it will actually accomplish, but I hope it can. I know he won’t tell a soul, and if there’s something I can do better, he’ll tell me. He always has. He’s helped me with my homework since we got our first assignment.
Huh, maybe I should approach him that way. This is just helping me out with homework. Except it’s more hands-on.
And I wasn’t kidding about maybe giving him some experience with a guy. It’s not fair that he doesn’t have anyone he can do that with around here. I don’t think there’s anyone who’s openly gay that we know, and if there were, I don’t think he’d feel safe fooling around with them.
A wicked shudder goes through my body at that thought. Of Camden fucking around with someone with a big mouth who’d tell the whole town. He has to know I won’t say a word. That I’ll keep his secrets just like he keeps mine. That he can trust me.
“Wells! Where’s your head?” Oh, shit. Practice.
“Sorry, Coach!” I shout and then catch the ball when Camden fires it downfield to me.
Cam shakes his head, and I feel his eyes on me. But I made the catch, so I don’t know what their problem is. Afterward, we head to the showers, stripping down, and I can’t keep my eyes from scanning over Camden’s side, which is still bruised to all hell.
How has Coach not seen that?
He ignores my angry gaze and heads to the shower, so I follow.
When we’re getting dressed with the other guys around us, my attention is drawn to Garrison Dixon and Jameson Bates, who are all of a sudden going at it.
I mean, fists flying, words spitting from their mouths, and rolling around on the cement ground with fury like I’ve never seen.
“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Coach comes out of the office, trying to separate them, but they’re like rabid dogs.
I step in to pull Dixon off Bates as Coach grabs Bates, both of them fighting to get at each other and still screaming. Oakley Easton enters the fray, trying to pull his friend Dixon off Bates too. “Jesus, fuck. What’s going on?”
“He’s a motherfucker.” Dixon spits as we all watch in transfixed horror.
“Like . . . literally?” Easton asks, and Dixon pulls away, his rage apparent.
“No.” He shoves away from Easton, his nose spilling blood. “Just keep him away from me,” he growls at no one.
Coach is furious. “You two want to sit out the last fucking game? Is that it?”
They both seem to sober up for a minute, and I catch Camden’s eyes, seeing he’s worried about this little display.
“No, sir,” they both say.
Coach runs his fingers through his hair. “This happened on school grounds. I can’t ignore that. Detention. Both of you for the rest of the week. After practice. Starting today.” Each word is clipped, and Coach is clearly pissed off, but they actually got off easy.
They both nod before Coach leaves to go back to his office with strict instructions for them to clean up the locker-room after us.
They don’t argue, and I whistle as I move back to my locker and grab my shirt, pulling it on. “You two fucked up.”
Camden nudges me disapprovingly, but Easton clearly agrees with me. “Yeah, you guys should just go ahead and suck each other off. I mean, what the fuck?”
A couple of other guys chuckle, some making kissing sounds at Bates and Dixon, getting in on the teasing. Christian Dean laughs along, “Aw, are you guys in loooove? Is that why you can’t keep your hands off each other?”
Everyone laughs, the taunting only growing, and Dixon turns red. “Fuck off,” Bates says, and I notice Camden wince. This is the shit he was talking about. The locker-room. The field. When anyone gets into it, the guys make kissing noises or tell them to bang it out like it’s some kind of joke.
As if two guys wanting to fuck each other is a joke. “Knock it off.” I barely recognize my own voice as it booms from my mouth.
Camden winces again and then gives a curt shake of his head, but I don’t care. I should have said something a long time ago. “What the fuck, Wells? You started it,” Dean tries.
I roll my eyes. “I said they’re in trouble. Not that they want to fuck each other.” I finish getting dressed and face my teammates. “If they do, it’s none of our business.”
“Whoa.” Bates puts his hands in the air. “We don’t. What the fuck, Wells?” He looks horrified. Dixon is even more red now, and Camden looks irritated. But I can’t just not say anything.
I try to shrug it off, but glance at Camden for a second, hating that he looks so tense, and then I focus on Bates. “I’m just saying if that’s why you guys were fighting, that’s fine.”
“Kingston, stop,” Camden says it like a warning.
But no, fuck this. The more I think about all the shit spewed in here, the madder I get.
Words like gay and much worse are tossed around as insults.
The guys tease each other about wanting to fuck or being a girl.
It’s all demeaning. It’s beyond fucked up.
“Yeah, Kingston. Stop,” Bates says, his deadly glare on me. “I don’t want to fuck that motherfucker. I don’t want anything to do with him.”
“Fine.” I say it with a sharp tone, irritated because I’m not really sure what to do.
I look around. “But I’m just saying, suggesting that them being gay or wanting to do stuff .
. .” I grip the back of my neck, clearly not great with words.
“It’s not an insult. We shouldn’t use it like a joke.
It’s toxic as fuck to make fun of anyone’s sexuality. ”
“Did you hit your head?” Dixon asks me, eyeing me carefully.
“Yeah, seriously. What’s your problem?” Dean asks. “We always joke about this shit. And you sound pretty fucking gay right now.”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” I throw my hands in the air, pissed off.
“Who cares if I sound gay? That’s not a bad thing.
Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing.” I say it maybe a little too loud, and I see that everyone on the team is eyeing me now.
Camden looks like he wants to crawl in a hole and die, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t handle this correctly.
“Um . . .” Bates looks confused. “I don’t want to sound gay because I’m not fucking gay. And I don’t want to suck off Dixon or anyone.” He shoves Dean, who shoves him back, but it’s all halfhearted.
“But if you were,” I say, and I feel Camden’s hand on my shoulder, but it’s not comfort. He’s squeezing it.
“No one is gay. Stop.”
All eyes are on us now and shit . . . this backfired. “I know no one is gay, but they don’t need to be saying it like that. Maybe they just don’t like each other,” I say, annoyed by all the confusion, like what they were doing was normal, and I’m the weird one.
Camden does grace me with a small smile before going into team captain mode.
“So, you’re saying that guys fist-fight for other reasons?
That they may not want to fuck each other?
” There’s sarcasm and charm dripping from his words, and I roll my eyes while everyone else laughs.
I see things so much more clearly now that he’s told me the truth.
I see the pain behind his charisma. I know he’s had to be charismatic to survive this town.
“Yes,” I say, but I hate that he’s covering. I know what he’s doing. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Good to know.” He pats my shoulder in a placating way.
“Jesus Christ. You all are fucking crazy,” Bates says as he finishes getting ready, but I just have an icky feeling in my gut.
I wanted to stand up for Camden and anyone else who may be gay or bi or whatever, but that was just an epic fail. I didn’t change anything. Next time someone gets into a fight around here, they’re going to use the same words and the same teasing bullshit they did today, but I hate it.
And yes, I know it’s fucked up that I never said anything before.
That I didn’t think about it as much as I do now.
I know I should have, even without knowing about Camden, but maybe we all need that to push us to do the right thing.
Maybe that’s what it takes for us to do that.
Right or not, having a gay best friend makes me more conscious of every fucked-up thing being said about gay people.
Growing up in this small town, sometimes it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Like they’re the great big world, and we don’t have to deal with the same things.
It makes ignorance run rampant. We’re all guilty of it, and no wonder Camden doesn’t feel safe being himself, even though he’s great.
I want them all to shut their fucking mouths and think before they speak. Think about how they could be hurting someone—Camden—or anyone else.
But unfortunately, sometimes I’m just a big-ass dumb jock, and I’m pretty sure I just made it worse.
I hate that feeling, and I don’t think it’s going to go away anytime soon.