Page 1 of Lace

One

Heat, sweat and noise. It should be just like a dance floor, but it wasn’t. The squawk of sneakers on the gymnasium floor, shouts from the players, and cheers from the crowd cut through the heavy heat of too many bodies in too small a space. The stench of old sweat accompanied by the reek of over-sprayed perfume on the MILF seated in front of him, had Caleb’s stomach in a twist. He’d never really caught on to the appeal of sporting events. Usually, he avoided them like the plague, but Levi had wanted to come to support their friends on the team. Since Caleb had the worst time saying no to his man, here they were.

Except, he could only take so much.

Excusing himself, trying not to trip over the feet of the people he had to climb over in the bleachers, he scrambled to the end of the row and jumped down. He hadn’t planned to hide in the washroom of the gym, but he was relieved to find the place empty when he entered.

The grease of sweat under his make-up made him want to wash it all off. Instead, he gripped the sides of the sink and avoided glaring at himself in the mirror.

That emo place he hated was crowding into his head, and he wanted to have fun. Enjoy Levi’s company.

“Fuck.” He turned on the water, letting it run into the sink and losing his thoughts in the white noise. He was too warm. Too jittery. He wanted the safety and quiet of Levi’s dorm room.

He ran his palms over his jeans, tugging at the tight material, stomped his feet, the weight of his boots and jingle of chains and buckles arrayed around his body soothing him somewhat.

Through the blue fringe of his hair, he looked at the blurred lower half of his body and could almost feel like himself if he took the time to remember what the jeans hid. But he avoided, for one more moment, seeing the floppy hoodie he’d thrown on over his own top. The only saving grace of the ugly garment was that it belonged to his boyfriend.

Pulling the hoodie up to his nose, Levi’s scent clinging to it overpowered the other, less appetizing scents of the basketball game.

Glancing in the mirror, past his own shoulder, he surveyed the still empty room. If it stayed that way for just a few more seconds…

His fingers trembled just enough to make him fumble the zipper, but he managed to get a grip on it and yank it down. The tight vest underneath appeared; black cotton offset by brilliant blue lace to match his hair. There wasn’t much lace. A bit of trim and a stretch of it across his back. But enough.

Behind him, the door banged. Voices echoed off the tile walls. Laughter bounced and shouts filled the room to overflowing as he jerked the zipper back up.

It caught on a bit of lace and stuck.

The laughter stopped abruptly.

Caleb looked up, meeting a glittering, focused glare in the mirror. The man’s face twisted into a sneer and he mouthed a single word, “Pussy.”

Caleb flushed. “Fuck off, asshole.”

All three men who had entered the bathroom snickered as they lined up at the urinals. The biggest of them, Larry Shank shouldered Caleb hard as he walked by, making him catch himself on the edge of the counter to keep from slamming into the mirror.

“Asshole,” Caleb muttered again, shutting off the water and hurrying for the door. More snickering chased his retreat, and it was all he could do to clench his fists and get the hell out without taking a swing at the guy.

Larry Shank was nothing new. Caleb had endured taunts from jerks like the overweight hockey player his entire life. He should be used to it. He should be able to ignore it. This wasn’t high school, and he wasn’t a skinny kid anymore.

Hell, Shank wouldn’t even be at the university if he wasn’t a behemoth who could skate. It certainly wasn’t because he was an intellectual titan. Larry Shank would be no one as soon as he aged off the Ontario Hockey League. Everyone knew he wasn’t NHL material.

Caleb had talent, and was already running his own business, teaching elementary students to play guitar. Those kids looked up to him, their parents appreciated him, so what Shank thought of him shouldn’t matter.

Out in the corridor, around the corner where no one would wander by, he slouched against the wall, gently fiddling with his zipper until the lace was free, then pulling it up until no part of the more delicate clothing beneath was visible. He knew it was there, though, and wished just knowing could be enough.

It wasn’t.

Sliding until his ass hit the floor, he stayed there, listening to the waves of cheering and booing and catcalls from inside the gym.

He sat, knees pressed together, hands pushed deep into the pockets of the hoodie. A trickle of sweat meandered down his spine. He should have just removed the delicate, lace-trimmed vest Levi had lent him the sweater to hide. But the way Levi had draped the sweater over his shoulders—the way he’d zipped it up carefully and smiled, intimating that the vest was Caleb’s private business and Levi was willing to protect that privacy—had convinced him not to take it off.

Roaring cheers and taunts ebbed and flowed from the gym, and he hunched his shoulders, trying to block out the chaos. Concentrating, he listened to the faint music he’d been working on for weeks now. He hadn’t written any of it down, yet. He didn’t need to. He could hear it, and he knew he could play it. He just had to find the opportunity and the right audience.

A hank of his blue-dyed hair flopped into his eyes and he tossed his head to get it out of the way, tried to tuck it behind one ear with his fingertips, and immediately cringed at the girliness of the motion.

“Hey.” Feet came into view in front of him. A pair of battered red Converse sneakers he knew well.

“Hey,” he replied without looking up.

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