“I was just wondering, since you haven’t been responding to any of my messages lately.”
He turns his head a little more, looking away from me fully. “I’ve just been busy.”
Well, fuck. Okay, then. “Just thought maybe I made you upset or something.”
“No!” He makes eye contact with me then, shaking his head furiously. “No, not at all.”
I hum. “You know, if something’s going on, you can talk to me, right?”
He stops walking, so I stop too. We’re the only two left on the field, and I’m slightly grateful for that. “Yeah?”
It sounds like he needs confirmation that I’m not fucking around with him, and I’m definitely down to offer him that. “Yes. I mean it.”
With a sigh, he resumes walking but continues to not look at me. “So… what if I was… not straight?”
I remember how terrified Kai was when they came out to me. Their little voice shook so hard that they could barely get the words out. This feels a bit like that. Not that I look at Landon like a younger sibling. Fuck no. But it feels monumental. Just like that did.
“Well,” I say as I stop walking. Landon gets a few feet ahead of me before he realizes and stops. His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, then he turns and faces me. His jaw is set in a harsh line, his face stoic. It’s his eyes that give him away, though. He looks terrified, and that breaks my heart.
I take a step and then another before clasping his shoulder. This time, he doesn’t break eye contact. “Then I’d tell you, welcome to the club.”
He blinks at me for a second, then his face does something complicated. “Are you?” He stops, clearing his throat. “Are you,uh—”
“Am I not straight? Yep. I’m not straight. I’m pan.”
He nods slowly. “I don’t know what I am,” he whispers.
For some reason, that makes my throat go a little tight and achy. “That’s alright.” I give his shoulder a squeeze. “You don’t have to know. People put a lot of pressure on labels, but really, it’s not that serious.”
His throat bobs. “Really?”
I shrug. “Sure. Who says you have to have a label? Maybe you just figure yourself out, you know? Take some time to explore.”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding along as he speaks. “You’re right.”
With another squeeze, I let go of his shoulder. “Let’s go shower. I smell like ass.”
Landon laughs. “You and me both. I gotta get cleaned up for sure. A couple of days ago, I spilled coffee all over some dude walking out of the coffee shop and gave him my hoodie to wear. He texted me earlier that it was ready to pick up, and he gave me his address.”
“Damn. That’s bad luck.”
His face flushes pink, and he looks away. “I felt so bad.”
We walk side by side into the locker room. Everyone’s damn near cleared out except for West. He’s studying the playbook, but he is freshly showered. “What’s up, man?”
West looks up. “Oh. Just making sure I’m on top of things.”
He literally always is, so I don’t know why he’s so worried.
“Hey,” West says before I even have a chance to respond. “Do you think it would be strange to invite Darcy to our first game?”
“Your tutor?”
Finding out about Darcy was a trip. I was worried for a second that West was being a homophobic asshole, but I was thankful to learn that he wasn’t. Maybe just a little confused about his own straightness.
He nods, eyes darting between me and Landon.
“I’m gonna hit the shower. Good practice today, Weston,” Landon says, smoothly stepping away from us.
