Exotic - Chapter 12: Chapter 12

He took six minutes, not that I was counting. His car pulled up on the curb, the same beaten sedan I'd found myself scouring the school parking lot for more than once over the last fortnight. Caleb was in the front seat, one arm slung over the steering wheel and one hand in his hair. I unfolded my crossed legs and took one cautious step towards the car, half expecting him to flip me the bird and drive off the second I made a move towards him.
I leaned against the door, fumbling for the handle before dropping into the passenger seat with a groan. Caleb startled, and the look he gave me was unreadable, eyes wide, lips parted, a muscle visibly ticking away in his jaw.
"Hey," he managed, shifting in his seat.
I combed my fingers through the long hair at my neck, bag clenched between my knees. "Expecting someone else?"
"Is that my hat?"
I took the brim and plucked it off my head, tossing it onto his lap. He lingered on it, twisting the brim in his hands before stuffing it gracelessly into the centre console. "Forgot I was wearing that."
Caleb indicated off the curb and dragged his focus to the road. "Weren't you working tonight?"
"I don't have a death wish," I informed him. "I don't get on public buses in heels with a face of makeup. Especially not on quiet nights."
"And Reece, right," Caleb added. "You don't want Reece to see you."
"Obviously."
We drove out of the city in relative silence. Caleb didn't offer a catalyst for conversation, and I was happy to sit back in my blissed-out state of inebriation. At some point, he turned on the radio. Nick Cave crooned out, singing slow and low about leaving a lover.
"Did anything happen?"
I rolled my head to the side to look at him. He was watching the road, but his eyes were softer than I was used to. His hair was unbrushed, sitting up in tufts. There was a slight red crease on his jaw from lying on something angular.
"To me?"
His shoulders hunched slightly. "It's Thursday."
"I've worked Thursdays before," I argued. "Even a Wednesday or two. It's not a big deal."
"Do you usually get shitfaced on Thursdays as well?" he asked, stone-faced.
"Ah," I hummed, drumming my fingers on my thighs. "More times than I'd be willing to admit. It's been a long week."
We rolled to a stop at a traffic light, and he turned to me, face bathed in red light, "It's not to do with Monday is it?"
I frowned for a second, casting my mind back. After everything that had happened, Monday had become a blur, save one particular interaction. The interaction that haunted my dream, wet skin and heat, and the planes of Caleb's chest.
And of course, what had followed. Suddenly, a lot made sense.
"I get it," I bit back a harsh laugh. "So this is your repentance. This is you whipping yourself to feel better about letting Aidan slam my head into a locker."
Caleb ripped his eyes away, but his flushed skin gave him away. I felt bile rise in my throat but unlike last time, I wasn't inclined to swallow it down.
"Pull over," I said venomously, hand resting on the handle.
"Miles..."
"I said pull over," I stated, louder. Caleb slowed the car but didn't pull into the footpath. "I'm not playing into your martyr fantasies. You can't have it all. You can't be popular and hot and best friends with Aidan McCaffrey and be a nice guy as well. The universe has to maintain some equ-eaque-equalibian... balance. I don't care if it's all an act, while you are friends with him you are an enabler to everything he does to people like me... christ, pull over."
"I'm not leaving you in the middle of nowhere..."
"I'm not leaving, idiot," I snapped. "Unless you want me to puke in your glove box, pull the fuck over."
He did, with far more urgency. I got the door open just in time to lean out and heave up my guts into the available gutter. Nick Cave continued to lament as I choked on the last of it, spitting and then slowly sitting up with my eyes pressed closed. Once the fury had come down, embarrassment set in, and I dropped my head into the cradle of my hands.
Neither of us spoke for a long time, only the sound of Caleb's indicator hammering at my skull. There wasn't a soul on the road. Why he insisted on indicating was beyond me.
"I am sorry about Monday," Caleb finally uttered. "But that's not why I picked you up. If I'd been at home, I probably wouldn't have. I don't sneak out. Mum has a sixth sense for that. She's caught Jake too many times for me to take the risk."
He didn't sneak out, but he spent his Fridays at gay clubs and his family was none-the-wiser. Maybe the universe didn't feel a need to balance out Caleb's life. Maybe it was skewed beyond repair. "You were out? It's Thursday."
"I was at Aidan's," he said shortly. "I have dinner with his parents once a month and stay over. I've known his family since I was five."
I sniffed. "And what, you figured you'd have a better time picking my drunk ass up than throwing back some beers with your oldest friend? Priorities."
Caleb flicked the indicator off, and stared dead ahead. "No, I left about two hours ago."
I wiped off the corners of my mouth with my thumb, suddenly intrigued. "Why?"
His shoulders hunched, and he dug his fingers into the hair at the base of his scalp. It unknotted easily. "You're friends with Aaron Sanchez, right?"
I nodded because correcting him to 'I'm in love with Aaron Sanchez, in a completely platonic sense' might have veered up off-topic.
"Well, he started saying some really gross stuff about him. Max has been mouthing off lately, so I guess he was just letting off steam. But..." Caleb sighed heavily, and I felt automatically sick to my stomach. "He was making all these implications about them, you know, being more than brothers and he was talking about spreading it around the school and... I have never been that close to punching someone in the face in my life."
"Not even me?"
"Not even slightly," he rubbed his hands up and down his jeans, fingernails digging into the fabric. "So I thought the best option was to leave. He texted me to let me know I can come back once I've quit PMS-ing. But I don't want to see him right now."
My brow furrowed. "So, what have you been doing for the last two hours?"
"Sitting in the car. Whitley Park has free parking after eight," he twiddled his thumbs, intent on looking at everything and anything that wasn't my face. "I've got my uniform in the back. I was just planning on... crashing."
My eyebrows lifted. "You were sleeping in your car?"
"Well, the alternative is going home and explaining to my parents what happened in the morning," he shuddered microscopically. "And then my mum would call Aidan's mum and cuss her out, and Aidan would get lectured and come to school pissed, and he'll take out his frustrations on Aaron or Max or... you."
I felt a warmth spread from heart to my neck. I forced the blush down with a harsh pinch to my elbow. "Your mum is protective, hey?"
"She's Greek," he explained. "Very outspoken. Brass. Loud. She thinks the best thing for me is to come rushing to my defence, but she doesn't really understand the politics of high school."
My mother had been the same. The kind of woman to grab her purse and go storming over to a friend's house after we'd fought and kick up a fuss at parent-teacher meetings. I'd always been embarrassed by her when she acted like that.
I wondered what Caleb would do if I offered him a place to sleep. Not a good plan. "Is she religious?"
"No. Why do you ask?"
I turned in my seat, lying on it sideways so I could watch him. "I'm just can't figure out why you haven't come out to them."
Caleb jaw tensed. I resisted the urge to reach out and stroke my thumb along the dent it caused in his cheek. If he asked me why I was looking at him the way I knew I was, I could always blame the alcohol.
"I don't know. Just a feeling," he said slowly. His voice turned gravelly. "My mum's a migrant, my dad grew up with six siblings in a two-bedroom council flat. They both worked hard so our lives could be easier than theirs were. I feel like telling them would just... shatter their dreams for how my life will turn out. My mum talks about marriage and grandchildren all the time. She jokes that she had four children for one reason. More babies to spoil."
I frowned. "We're not living in the dark ages. You can have both those things and still be gay."
"I know. But..." he sighed out through his nose. "I don't want anything to change."
I could understand that, at the very least. Caleb's hand was resting on his knee. I wondered for a fleeting second how he would react if I took it. I could still recall, vividly, how they felt on my waist. Warm, and confident. I wondered if I'd ever see that side of Caleb Proust again, or whether all-out interactions would be as terse as those in recent memory.
"I don't know why I'm telling you this," he leaned his head back.
"I think you do," I thought back to what Alba had told me. "I think you need to talk."
"To you?"
I shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm here, aren't I?"
His smile was slight. I watched his knuckles drum the steering wheel as we feel into an oddly comfortable silence. A single car passed by, breaking the illusion that we were the only two people left on Earth.
"Are you good to get back on the road?" when I nodded dubiously, he put the car back into gear. "Just shout if you're going to puke again."
I gave him an awkward thumbs up, and he pulled out. I stayed turned in my seat, watching the golden streetlights roll over his skin. His frown had relaxed, as had his brow. There was no way he had missed my staring, but it didn't seem to bother him. He was probably used to it, after all.
"Sorry for messing with you."
Caleb turned his head slightly. "Hmm?"
"On Insta. Probably not what you needed on an already shitty night," I sighed. "I remember what you said. I'm not going to... push you around. We're not friends. Your life, my life, all that."
His eyelashes were criminally long, batting incredulously. "Well. I crossed the line first."
I smiled into my collar, recalling that I was stalking his Instagram long before that night. We turned into my street, and I considered that I hadn't given him my address. He'd only driven me there once, in the dark. "You made up for it. Thanks for the ride."
"Yeah," Caleb waved me off. "Don't make it a habit. Will you be at school tomorrow?"
I considered it. Reece didn't work on Fridays. No matter how hungover I would be, I wasn't going to subject myself to a full day of his company. "Yeah. Might wag first period. Sleep it off in the library."
He shook his head as he parked, a block from my house. "You're something else."
"You're sleeping in your car tonight," I challenged. "Speaking of which. Do you want, like, a blanket or something? Toothbrush? Maybe... deodorant?"
"Prick," Caleb snorted. I caught a glimpse of teeth as he directed his smile downwards. "I have everything I need in the back. Thanks though."
I popped the handle and slid out of the car. "Right. Well, if I don't see you at school tomorrow, good riddance."
He rested his chin on his right shoulder, eyelashes casting shadows down his cheeks. "Yeah. Here's hoping."
"Good luck at the game on Saturday," I added right before closing the door. I got to my driveway before I heard Caleb start up the engine and drive off.
In the sanctuary of my bedroom, I set myself up with a glass of water and an aspirin. Lounging back into my pillows, I opened up my incredible bland text thread with C.P. Before I could lose my nerve and intoxication excuse, I sent him the photo Zsa Zsa had taken of me up on stage. Pink and blissful and glowing.
Exclusive image.
Not yet available on Insta.
I chewed my lip, turned off my phone, and placed it on my bedside table. There was a pleasant flipping sensation in my stomach. I tried to picture Caleb, lounged back in the front seat of his car, staring at my image on his screen. My skin was buzzing, though I didn't know whether that was from the alcohol or the knowledge that something had changed. Or rather, Caleb's opinion of me had.
I could only dream that it was something more substantial than pity.