Camden
Goddammit, Kingston.
“What the hell was that about?” I ask as we make our way out to the parking lot. My heart is racing, and I think I might get sick. The way their eyes were on us.
Fuck!
“What do you mean?” He turns to me, looking confused.
How can he be confused when he was talking about people being gay in the middle of the goddamn locker-room? Like he was some sort of savior? When I wanted to be anywhere else.
I keep my voice low as we approach our vehicles. “I mean, what the hell was that?” I point back at the gym. “Why were you talking about anyone being gay?”
“Because they were making it sound like a joke. It’s not a joke.”
I want to soften my tone. I know he means well, but that can’t happen. “That’s what they do.”
His eyes narrow at me, and oh my God, Kingston is actually pissed at me. “That doesn’t make it right.”
I point to my chest. “Of course it doesn’t, but that doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter.” He raises his voice, looking at me like I’m the crazy one. “It matters. You matter.”
My heart does a flip, and I have to actually fight a smile because I know how much he cares. I can see it, and I can feel it. “It’s a losing battle, Kingston. You know that. You can’t start lecturing the Kensley football team, thinking you’re going to change the world.”
“We can change our part of the world.” He says this with indignance. So damn sure.
My shoulders droop, and that tired feeling comes back with a vengeance. “No, we can’t. They’re never going to change. They’re never going to see what they say is wrong. They grew up that way. They heard it their whole lives. Nothing is going to change.”
“Not if we don’t say something.” His voice is still loud and full of passion, and I hate the way I cringe, my eyes sweeping the parking lot to make sure no one else is listening.
“It’s not going to change. You can’t do that.”
His brow is furrowed, and he still looks angry. “I can. I could have done it better, I’ll admit that, but I’ve been silent long enough, and so have you. You don’t have to put up with that. I know it hurts you. I saw it.”
“I know.” I take a step toward him, but then stop, shame washing over me because I’m afraid of someone seeing us standing too close. It’s crazy. We’re always close, but the conversation in the locker-room has me spooked, like they’re all suspicious of us now. “I’m fine. I’m almost out of here.”
“And what about someone else who isn’t?”
“What?” I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“There could be other gay kids. You want this to be their world?” I hate myself at this moment. I know I should worry about that, and I do. But damn it, I just want out.
“I . . . umm . . . Kingston.”
“No.” He doesn’t let me off the hook. “We have to say something. We have to let them know it’s not okay.”
I finally move until I’m standing a foot away from him and put my hand on his shoulder. “Okay. I know. I get what you were doing. But Kingston I . . . I can’t be that guy. I’m not strong enough. I’ve proven that by hiding.”
“You’re brave,” he assures me, and I nearly laugh because I know how much he believes that.
“I’m not.” I shake my head. I’m a coward, and I can’t wait to run away from this town. “I should worry about there potentially being other gay kids in our school, but I don’t think anything will change. I think this is our world. I think Kensley is stuck and will never change.”
He points at me. “I think guys like you . . .” And then he points to himself. “And me.” He waves his hand in the direction of the school. “Could make a difference.”
I want to believe him, but I know this town.
I’ve seen the ugliness. I heard all the small-minded bullshit.
I’ve seen my mom get harassed at the tavern while no one bats an eye.
I’ve heard the mayor himself making misogynistic and bigoted jokes.
And my best friend—God, he’s sunshine and light—he thinks the best of the world.
He thinks there can be change, but that’s not me.
I don’t see any hope in this black hole of a town.
“I think you’re great, and you’re a good guy, but I don’t think your saying they shouldn’t do that stuff is going to do anything.”
He looks disappointed, and I feel like an asshole. I know he was trying to stand up for me—for what was right—but I can’t let him do that anymore.
“You’re worried that Kennedy is going to spread rumors about you having a small dick and being a bad lay, but you aren’t worried that the guys are going to start saying you may be gay?”
He folds his arms over his massive chest, clearly annoyed by my question. “Being gay isn’t something to be ashamed of.”
“And having a small dick is?” I point out because he needs to get this in his head. This is high school. Regular rules don’t apply.
“You said it’s not small.”
Jesus. I sigh. “Not the point. My point is if you keep standing up to them about using slurs and being assholes like that, they’re going to start to talk.
Your dick isn’t small, but it would bother you if Kennedy told everyone it was.
” I point at him. “You’re not gay. But you’re telling me it wouldn’t bother you if people said you were? ”
He seems to think about this. His brow is crinkled, and he’s clearly frustrated. “I don’t know. I just want them not to say that shit.”
“I know.” I pat his shoulder. “Let’s go get Luce and then hang out.”
“No.” He surprises me. “I’m still mad. I think I did the right thing, and I’m mad at you for not backing me up.”
“Kingston.” I’m shocked. He’s never mad at me.
“No, Cam.” He pulls his keys out and moves toward his car. “Look, I get why you don’t want to say anything. Why you don’t want people talking, and that’s your right. But I’m not okay with them saying that shit.”
“Neither am I,” I say exasperatedly. Is this really happening?
“But you’re pissed at me for saying what I did.”
“I’m not. I just don’t want you to do it anymore. You’re putting a target on your back.” And mine. But I’m too chicken to admit it.
“I’m going home.”
“Wait.” I walk over to him, not wanting this to be the end of it. “Just come back to my place. Please? We can talk it out.”
I hate the feeling of him being upset with me. Desperation claws its way to the surface at the thought of him going back to his house, and me going to mine, and us not talking this out.
“Please,” I say again.
He huffs, looking back at the school and then back at me. “Okay.”
Relief washes over me as I nod my head, and we hop in our vehicles. I pick up Lucy, spending the entire drive thinking about the locker-room and the guys’ confused faces while my best friend went on his tirade.
He wasn’t wrong, not at all.
But in this town, I know what they were all thinking.
I know how dangerous it can be to open your mouth, and I don’t want it coming back on him. Or me. But mostly him.
He’s good. Almost too good. Where everything else is dark, he’s light. He always has been.
And unfortunately, I think sometimes that light blocks out just how ugly the real world can be.