“But I can’t skate,” Sebastian protests, genuinely distressed. “I mean, on ice, yeah, but wheels? I’ll die.”
“You won’t die,” Oliver says, though he doesn’t sound entirely convinced. “We all have to pair up. Winner gets a trophy.”
My brain races. Who am I going to partner up with? My gaze darts around to see that the locker room has turned into a speed-dating event on steroids. Guys are claiming partners left and right, and I realize with growing horror that my options are disappearing faster than Gerard’s modesty at a team bonding event.
“I call Gerard!” Nathan shouts.
“Fuck off, he’s taken,” someone else yells back.
“By who? Elliot’s not on the team!”
“I’ll go with Jonas,” Kyle mutters, and Jonas turns red. Out of fear or embarrassment, I couldn’t say.
“I’m with Will!” Tyler high-fives Will.
“Francisco and Sebastian!”
“Oliver!” Mason grins at our captain, who nods approvingly.
More and more names get called out, and then…silence.
I count heads, and my stomach drops through the floor and keeps going until it hits the Earth’s core.
“I’m sure Jackson would love to roller skate with you,” Nathan says giddily. “Hold your hand, gaze into your eyes…”
Still completely naked and immune to the concept of shame, Gerard belts out how he thought love was only true in fairytales. It isn’t until he gets to the chorus that I realize he’s singing “I’m a Believer” by the Monkees. He gyrates his hips, his dick helicoptering with each movement.
“Put some fucking clothes on, Gunnarson!” Kyle yells while laughing.
“You guys believe this shit?” Will asks, crossing his arms. “Drew Larney, the guy who’s fucked half the campus, is suddenly in a committed relationship with Jackson Monroe of all people? I’m with the Ice Queen on this one. There’s no way.”
“Love is a many-splendored thing,” Gerard says sagely, finally wrapping a towel around his waist, thank God. “I fell for Elliot, didn’t I?”
“That’s different,” Will argues. “We all saw that coming from a mile away. This?” He gestures at me. “This is suspicious as fuck.”
“Look,” I say, trying to sound casual even though my heart is pounding. “Jackson and I—it just happened, okay? Sometimes you meet someone, and everything changes.”
“Do you think the judges will score based on chemistry?” Tyler asks with a shit-eating grin.
Chemistry.Right. Because that’s exactly what I need—to be judged on how well I can fake being in love with the guy I’m in love with.
“Maybe Drew and Jackson will skate to ‘Endless Love,’” Nathan says with a snort. “They can stare into each other’s eyes while Diana Ross croons about?—”
“Fuck off,” I mutter, too busy panicking about how I’m going to explain this to Jackson.
“Alright, guys,” Oliver claps his hands, shifting back into captain mode. “We have a game to win. Save the relationship drama for after we destroy Boston College.”
The team disperses, returning to their pregame rituals, but I catch the looks. Some are supportive, like Gerard, who gives me a thumbs up that’s somehow both encouraging and slightly obscene. Others are skeptical, like Will, who mouths, “I don’t buy it,”when he thinks I’m not watching.
I focus on taping my stick, wrapping the black tape around the blade with mechanical precision. It’s something I can control, unlike the shitstorm my life has become. But when the subtle glances and expressions of disbelief become too much, the words burst out before I can stop them.
“You all think this is fake? Some kind of joke? Jackson’s the best thing that’s happened to me, and if I have to prove it in purple spandex while dipping him to ‘Xanadu,’ then that’s what I’ll fucking do.”
The silence that follows is deafening. Even Kyle appears mildly concerned, which, for him, is a full-blown emotional breakdown.
“Purple spandex is a bold choice,” Gerard finally says. “Very 1980.”
Will, who’s apparently becoming my biggest detractor, snorts. “Now, this I can’t wait to see.”
