Exotic - Chapter 56: Chapter 56

I turned. Watched Caleb right himself and come to stand just opposite me. The last time it had been just him and me, we'd fought. The time before, we'd kissed. I didn't know what to expect this time. We'd not exactly created an easy-to-follow pattern in our interactions with one another.
Taking a risk, I stepped forward. He mirrored the movement, and we approached each other like old friends, not quite sure if they were recognising the other but still drawn closer by some gut instinct. We stopped when we were practically nose to nose. Or throat-to-nose, with the height difference and all.
I raised myself onto my toes and my arms went over his shoulders. I wrapped him in a hug, because I had no idea what else to do, and I breathed him in, face buried in the curve of his neck. I squeezed his shoulders, relieved when his hands came up to encircle my back and pull me into him. We remained there for a while. Probably far too long for a first hug. I couldn't make myself break away.
When we did, neither of us spoke. After a moment of both of us opening our mouths and failing to speak, he took my hand and began to lead me up the hallway. The warm pressure of his hand in mine felt so secure, I would have followed him anywhere. I glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and then wondered why I did when Caleb seemed so unphased by holding my hand where anyone could walk out and see us.
We stopped outside one of the art rooms, and he rattled the handle, pushing through when it gave way. The room was shadowy, the only light coming from the thin rows of windows across the back wall. The sun danced across the splintering, ancient tables and spilled onto both of us, hovering by the door.
Caleb turned the lock. Something inside me twisted with it. He released my hand and beckoned me over to one of the tables, where he pushed himself up to sit on it. I followed suit with considerably more effort – the tables were tall, and my upper body strength was minimal – but after a beat we were sitting side by side, shoulder to shoulder, facing the paint splattered sinks below the windows.
I sucked in a breath. "I'm the reason Aidan found out. He overheard me talking to Alba. Ms. Hassan. The school therapist. I was careless and that got us into this mess and I'm really, really sor..."
I squeaked in surprise when he leaned his head around and kissed me on the mouth. I would have fallen back on the table if his hand hadn't shot up to keep me upright. It was an awkward angle for the both of us until I turned my head into him and relaxed into it. His other hand found my knee, and mine found a comfortable loop around his neck, and we stayed there for a while. A stolen kiss in a locked classroom. It felt so middle school. My chest was alight with warm pulses, and my jaw was so relaxed it felt like it was about to become unhinged. I was startled when fingers touched my cheek, before realising they were Caleb's. How many hands did people have? I had forgotten. His hands felt like they were everywhere at once.
I pulled back and rested my forehead on his. "That was a long time coming."
He breathed out an achingly sweet laugh, fingers curling around to cup my head, and went in for a second, deeper kiss. His fingers settled in the short hairs at the back of my neck. I allowed myself to be halfway reclined to the table, arms holding onto him for dear life and legs all in a tangle. His mouth was fucking life support. I wanted to taste it from every angle, in every classroom, on every top of every table in the world, every wall, every bedroom, every bathroom stall...
I released my grip on him and fell back until I was lying on the table. When Caleb went to follow me down automatically, I placed a hand on his chest to keep him at a short distance. He looked down, cheeks dusted with pink and hair all a mess. My doing. I wanted to fix it. I wanted to mess it up worse.
"I've been wanting to do that..." he was panting ever so slightly, "... for a while."
"For the record, you absolutely could have," I told him, gazing up at him. "Pretty much any time."
"I thought I'd fucked it up," he dropped down to lie beside me, our legs dangling off the side. Our ankles kept brushing. "You weren't talking to me. I did deserve it."
"Yeah, about that," I turned my head to him. "I blocked your number."
He tilted his head. To me, visibly puzzled.
"I didn't read your texts. Well, I did, but only after I saw them on your phone. Which... oh!" I sat up to fumble in my pockets, dragged it out, and handed it to him. "You left at my place."
Caleb took it from me, turned on the screen, and immediately slapped his hand over his face, turning bright red between the gaps of his fingers. I laughed and lay back beside him, head tilting to rest on his shoulder.
"I have to send you some better pictures of me," I mused, gazing up at his lock screen where the picture of me was smiling. "I'm a bit overcooked in that one."
Caleb mumbled out something about it being fine or perfect and put it down on the table face down. "Well. Who's the stalker now?"
"I think a moderate amount of stalking is to be expected when you have a big stupid crush on someone," I assured him and then got immediately flustered when I realised what that sounded like. "Not that you have a... I'm only saying that I have a... I have pictures of you too, and I still have your shirt from that first night and sometimes I sleep in it and ages ago, we had maths together and you probably don't remember this but you asked to borrow a pen, and I was so fucking flustered you were talking to me that I gave you my pen, my only pen and I couldn't take notes for the rest of class because..."
"Miles," he laughed out my name, and well, I liked hearing my name like that even more than the sexy way. "It's okay. Yes, I have a big stupid crush on you."
I felt my face catch fire. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," he picked up his phone again and turned on the lock screen. He stared up at the photo, mouth fluctuating between a smile and a pensive frown. "I know I haven't given off that impression, but I'm all the way gone."
I felt like I should pinch myself, but I didn't want to make a joke out of the moment. I probably sounded prepubescent when I squeaked out. "Since when?"
"Theoretically, since the first night, we met. Really met," he flicked through his photos to find the picture of me on stage in the pink tulle dress, hand on my heart, a smile on my lips, and eyes closed in the ecstasy of performing. "You were incredible. The clubs were my escape, the only time I could explore who I've known I am since primary school. But watching you, singing that emo crap about Mardi Gras..."
"Watch it with the sacrilege."
"It made me want to wrap myself in a rainbow flag and run through my street. It made me want to stand up in assembly and announce it to the whole school. You looked so at ease in your pride and your talent and your... you-ness, and I was just standing there thinking, I would never be as happy as you were with yourself while I was in the closet.
"And your legs were pretty incredible too."
I snorted, but couldn't help that old insecurity rising in my chest. "That's the Sephora effect. That isn't me."
"How can you say that?" he asked after a beat. "Of course it's you."
"Can you seriously look at me, a pasty schoolboy in baggy shorts, and say that I am anything akin to Sephora Utah?" I demanded, lightly, but it was an honest question.
Caleb rolled over and did a long, exaggerated scan of my body that made my ribs tighten. "Hmm. Yep. The same sense of humour, same talent, same kindness, same courage. Same great legs, even in those shorts."
I smacked his shoulder automatically, and he took my wrist, and he kissed it, right where my pulse fluttered at triple speed. His gaze was something else. If Ms. Hudson's had been paralysing, his was compulsive, and I never wanted to leave it.
"I knew I had it bad when I picked you up a few nights after, and you were wearing my hat like you did it every day and I thought I was going to die from the way my body reacted to that, and then when you started telling me off about sleeping in my car I just realised, Oh. I'm a goner."
"You could have told me," I told him, a tad petulant to realise we could have been kissing this whole time. That so much second-guessing and heartache could have been avoided.
"As you've probably realised by now, I'm not a massive subscriber to self-love," Caleb mused. "I was too caught up in everything else to even think about pursuing something I knew would make me happy. And I didn't know if you liked me back. I wouldn't have blamed you for not going for the gawky schoolboy with zero self-confidence and a homophobic best friend."
Gawky schoolboy. As if he didn't know what he looked like. What he did to me. I restrained myself from smacking him again, and instead segued, as much as I didn't want to, to a less pleasant topic. "But I did like you. I told you. You said I wasn't your type."
"I lied," he said immediately. He rolled over on the table, rendering us face to face and no more than a few centimetres apart. "I was scared, and I pushed back against the idea of things changing because that's what I do, and I was so wrong."
I contemplated this for a long moment. "It really hurt."
He swallowed heavily, and closed his eyes, nodding acceptance. "I'm sorry."
I stewed in this for a couple of beats, before putting a hand to his cheek. "You told your family."
His eyes fluttered open. "I did. I don't know why it took me so long. It feels like a tonne of brick has been lifted off me."
"And you told the entire soccer team."
He breathed out a sigh and nodded, lips curling into a smile. "A couple of them seemed a bit uncomfortable and I'm pretty sure Luca was texting it to the school as I was speaking, which, whatever, but the only backlash I got was a few of them grumbling that I'd made them show up at 7:30am to tell them. Max rallied the troops against Aidan. And he sat with me after they'd all left. Just talking. He's a good guy."
I hummed out an agreement. "Were you upset?"
"No. No, just... processing," he leaned into my touch. "Things had changed. My family was safe, but once I told them, I didn't know how fast the word would travel. I didn't know how the rest of the school was going to react. I didn't know what to do about Trout. And then I heard you ripping Aidan a new one, and none of it mattered, because I was 100% ready to come out yesterday if it would have made things right with you."
"I'm glad you didn't," I told him. "It's the kind of thing you should do for yourself."
He smiled, and the sun streaming through the windows was making his skin look like woven gold. I lowered my hand and pushed myself to sit, despite the ache it caused to pull away from him. "You were at my house yesterday."
He stayed reclined, his head lolling towards me. "Aidan... dragged me behind a wall and made his threats, and I knew I had to find you. But you were gone. I drove to your place hoping you'd be there. I wanted you to know what was at stake before I did anything. And you know. Kiss you a bit maybe. If you wanted to.
"But I got there, and your stepdad was home, and he came storming out asking why I was in your front yard, which I couldn't really explain, so I ran. Dropped my phone. Went back to school, tried to find Aaron, found Jake who said you were looking for me, tried to call you on his phone, but you weren't picking up."
"I lost mine as well," I folded my arms in my lap. "I... I had a bit of a rough night. Reece found out, everything."
Caleb shot up, eyes concerned. "Are you alright? You didn't decide to tell him, did you?"
I shook my head. "I actually thought you had."
He looked taken aback. "Miles. I told you, I wouldn't ever..."
"Yeah, well, we hadn't parted on the best of terms," I said curtly. I fidgeted with the collar of my shirt. "For all I knew, you thought I'd squealed to Aidan and decided to go back to our original deal. Mutually assured destruction. I know you didn't, now," I added, hating the way his face fell. "It was just monstrously bad timing, that's all."
He nodded, pushing a hand through his hair. His eyes were deep in thought. "Do you need a place to stay? Wait, no. You'd go to Aaron's, obviously. But if you need a second place to stay, my mum kinda loves you and we have room, or we can make room, we can always make..."
I kissed his cheek to shut him up. It worked. "Thank you. But I actually think I'll be alright at home. Reece... well, I won't say understands, but we're going to try and make it work. I want to make it work."
Caleb peered at me, closer, closer until I was sure we were going to go back to kissing, and then his hand came up to cradle my cheek. He turned my face gently to the side and studied the place I'd deliberately caked with makeup this morning. "Someone hit you."
"Not Reece," I said quickly, reaching up to rub the place Peter had hit me the hardest. "I don't want to talk about it right now. I said it was a rough night."
"Miles..."
"Shush," I peeled back his hand and interlaced our hands, bringing our knuckles to my mouth. "I will. Tell you. Not right now."
"Miles."
"I like it when you say my name," I said thoughtlessly, and Caleb bought his mouth to the other side of our entwined fingers, and we just looked at each other over the canyon of our interlocked knuckles. For a while.
"Hey," he whispered through the gap in our palms, like Pyramus through the crack in the wall.
"Hey."
"I like you."
"I like you too."
Caleb breathed out a sigh of relief that blew past my lips and tickled. As if my feeling for him might have changed after 48 hours, and he wasn't expecting me to respond. "You are exactly my type. You. That's my type. Miles."
"This is what kills me," I murmured.
"Do you want to..."
"Please don't ask me out right now, Caleb," I interrupted, my eyes locking with his. "I won't be able to say no."
Caleb pulled back in surprise. His eyes studied my face for evidence I was joking. I smiled, but I was sure he read my expression right because his shoulders dropped and his eyes tore away from my own. I was serious.
I squeezed his hand, still loose in mine. "Please don't get me wrong. I have literally dreamt of this moment, and..." my voice cracked, and I realised I would need to really power through if I wanted to keep myself from crying in front of him, "... I cannot believe I'm doing this right now but I need you to not ask me to be your boyfriend right now because I don't think I can physically say no."
His dark brows furrowed. "Then... don't say no?"
"Caleb, we can't..." I started and freed our hands from their embrace. I dragged up my legs to sit cross-legged on the table, facing him fully. "I don't want us to be together. Right now. Scratch that. I do, I really, desperately do. But I... think it would be best if we... weren't."
He dragged up one leg to mirror me lazily, wrapping an elbow around his knee and pulling it to his chest. "You're not making a lot of sense."
"I know," I groaned, wringing my hands. "I know. How can I... okay. You know how it's poor form to announce your pregnancy at someone's engagement party?"
He studied me, eyebrows clashing together in a deep V. "Are you pregnant in this metaphor, or engaged?"
"Both," I said. "Hear me out. If our mutual comings out are the engagement party, and our relationship is the pregnancy, does that make sense?"
His face said it didn't.
"They're both incredible things in their own right," I said gently. "But when I come out, I need it to be as Miles Stewart. Not as Caleb Proust's boyfriend."
Just saying the words Caleb Proust's boyfriend out loud lit my insides on fire, but I did my best to keep my face neutral. Caleb shifted back a bit, hands coming down on the table behind him as he reclined away from me. I couldn't read his expression, downcast like this. I wanted to tilt up his chin and make him look at me, so I could decode what was flashing through those incredible eyes, but an intimate gesture like that might have undermined my whole metaphor.
When he did look up, realisation seemed to be dawning in him. "You really think being with me would overshadow that?"
"Caleb, it will. I can't have my coming out intrinsically linked to being with you," I said, fighting tears the whole way. "Sephora Utah was my vice for a long time. She saved my life, but she also held me back from a lot when I was just Miles because I believed she was the only side of me that could be proud."
"You're not 'just' Miles," Caleb mumbled. "You're amazing."
I smiled to myself, flustered by his liberal use of compliments. I wasn't used to the praise outside Sephora. "I'd like to believe that for myself before I start dating someone. I'd like it if people saw me and my queerness before anything else. I have some work to do, and you have the entire school watching you, and..." I trailed off. "Basically, in a really roundabout way, can I be your friend right now before anything else? That would be enough. If you think we can be. Friends."
His face finally broke out of its hard lines of confusion and rejection. He flashed his teeth for a second before containing his beam to a small, secret smile. "I think I can handle that."
"Don't be so sure. You've never had me as a friend. Aaron has boundless patience, but you..."
"I don't think that will be an issue," he repeated, his legs coming down to a lazy cross mirroring mine, his expression turning a little coy. "You might be surprised how patient I can be."
Realising what he was implying, I put a hand on his thigh, which was probably a little too friendly for friends, but I wanted his full attention. "If we're friends, that means no waiting for me. No counting down the days until we can be together. I can't... I can't promise you anything, and I don't want you to promise anything in return. If you meet someone new, I don't want you to hesitate in pursuing him. I, your devoted friend, will cheer you on from the sidelines."
He put his hand over mine, and slid it up to my bicep, and pulled me in a little closer. He was still smiling like he knew a secret, and this was the closest I'd seen to him at the club that first night before he knew who I was, when he had his charm dialled up to 11 and his confidence seemed unbreakable. "If I met another guy, you would cheer me on? Say that again with a straight face."
"I don't have a straight face," I joked automatically, trying to ease the pounding of my heart. It was like a butter knife to steel, extremely ineffective against the tension. The heat of Caleb's hand was very distracting. "Okay, maybe cheer on is a little too strong. I'm not that good an actor. But I'm not going to be heartbroken or betrayed. I don't want you to limit yourself on my account."
"Okay, I won't," Caleb assured me, and he sounded like he was telling the truth even though his hand was still on my arm and now stroking gently back and forth, like a reassurance. "As long as you don't either."
"Well..."
"You're not allowed to wait for me if I can't," he cut me off. "I'm much better at being the brooding, tortured one. If I can get on with things, you absolutely can."
As much as it pained me to do, I nodded. "Deal. Friends?"
"Friends," Caleb agreed. "First question."
"No, we cannot be friends who kiss."
"Second question," I laughed out loud at his bluntness. "Would it be alright if I sat with you at lunch? Max invited me for today, but I don't want to intrude if you think it would be too... obvious."
"We're friends. Of course, you can sit with us," it was such a sweet question I wanted to squeeze his cheeks. "Do you think it will be alright? With the team?"
"Oh yeah. Anyone who has an issue will have to deal with the ones who don't," he smirked, and I remembered the crowd surrounding Aidan that morning and the righteous fury radiating off them, and for the first time ever I thought, You're alright, Truman High School. "I think I could just do without the questions for one day."
Outside, the siren buzzed for second period, and I was broken out of the little time-loop bubble I'd formed with Caleb. "Shit. I can't miss any more school."
We slid off the table as the halls outside began to buzz with activity. I picked up my bag and looked up at Caleb. Before I could think sensibly, I reached up to flatten his hair and straighten his shirt. "That'll save a few awkward questions."
He laughed and returned the favour, brushing my bangs out of my eyes as he'd done before. Only this time the movement was assured, his eyes fixed on mine as he curled one of the strands around his finger. My torso filled with all things warm and fuzzy, and I let it. My body was not going to stop reacting to Caleb's touch for a long time, friends or not. His fingers trailed down to my chin and rested there, as he looked at me pensively.
"Have you thought about how you'll do it?" he asked. "Come out."
"No," I admitted. "It'll be big though. Blow yours out of the water. It will be all anyone will be talking about for years to come."
"If you need any ideas..." his index finger trailed subconsciously to my lower lip. I shivered. "Let me know."
"I might need someone to operate the soundboard," I said earnestly, and he laughed, and I could feel his breath across my cheeks. He was way too close to expect me to exercise a modicum of restraint. And yet, my resolve held. I smiled at him, and he mouthed friends as if he was trying to get used to the shape of the word. His touch slipped from my face, and he took a step back, so we were at a respectful, friendly distance. The gap between us didn't feel like separation though. Farmers planted trees in an orchard a healthy distance apart, to keep their roots from tangling and halting growth. But given time, their branches eventually found each other in the open air.
That is what this felt like. Room to grow.
"Seriously. Miss Riley doesn't wait for anyone," I hitched my bag tight around my shoulder, and walked backwards to the door, only turning when the handle pressed into my back. I fumbled for it, and he laughed, and that was the last sound I heard before pushing into the hallway.
The corridor was packed as people rooted around in lockers, rushed to class, and clashed into quick embraces with boyfriends and girlfriends, and best friends as they passed one another on different paths. Faces I recognised and with faces I didn't. A mixing pot of activity within the walls of one school, in one town, in one country, among millions. On any other day, the chaos would make me feel anonymous, and I liked it that way. Better to pass people like an afterthought than attract unwanted attention.
I walked through the centre of the hustle and bustle with my shoulders pushed back and my chin up. When someone tried to shoulder-check past me, I stood my ground and glared the culprit down. People were giving me second glances and cupping their hands around rumours, whispering into the ears of those closest to them. A boy wearing makeup, even a tame amount, was an attention grabber.
I couldn't make myself care. Truthfully, their watchful gazes gave me a little, excited tingle up my spine. Sephora Utah was evidence enough, I'd always sought out the spotlight. I thrived with an audience. And my audiences loved me.
They'd love me too, given time.