Page 29 of Lace

“No. Of course he doesn’t. How can he? He comes from a happy home with two loving parents and enough money to pay his way through school, and he likes what he’s doing with his life. And he has a gorgeous boyfriend who most everyone around him is telling him to ditch because frankly, you don’t deserve him. And how could he know what’s going on with you if you don’t talk to him?”

“Well”—Caleb picked up his tray and stood— “you got your wish, then, because he hasn’t talked to me in a week. Hasn’t answered my calls or opened the door when I knock, so there. You’ve got through to him.”

A snarling sigh burst from Angel. “Sit the fuck down, drama queen.”

Caleb pursed his lips and tightened his grip on his tray.

“Swear to God, I have not wanted to smack someone so much as I do you right now. Get your head out of your ass and look around. This thing is going to happen. Be a part of it! Take fucking control of how and when you own your own fucking life!This is your chance, so if you won’t take my advice as a friend, do it for the sake of the Council and the kids we’re trying to help. Please. Help Mitchell out. Just talk to him. Calm him down. Let him know there will be people there. Let him know we’ll make it work.”

Caleb swivelled back to face Angel. “You want me to make him a promise we might not be able to keep? You hear what people are saying? Half of them are laughing their asses off, and the other half are not going to be seen within a mile of the place, in case everyone thinks they’re there to find a new outfit.”

“So now you don’t think he should do it.”

“Now? I’m not sure I ever did.”

Angel made a soft, growling noise in his throat. “You encouraged him. You said you liked his work.”

“He does good work,” Caleb hedged.

Angel pointed his fork at the seat Caleb had vacated, and Caleb grunted as he sat back down.

“You know this campus.” Angel still spoke so casually as he ate, but his eyes blazed, and his jaw popped. “Do you think he’s doing it because people will love him for it? Do you think your uncle told you to go into business because he likes being a villain? He did it to try and protect you. Because people can be assholes. You’re absolutely right about that.”

“Then what are we arguing about here?” Caleb opened his juice and swigged half of it back. “Putting me in the business world is just his way of putting me in a suit and tie—a package he can be comfortable with. He might as well put a bullet in my head now, if he thinks that’s going to protect me from anything.”

Angel made a visible effort to relax his tense shoulders. He wiggled his jaw loose from the teeth-clenching tightness it had taken on as Caleb spoke. “The right thing isn’t always the popular thing, Caleb. It wasn’t for Dwayne. And it isn’t for you. Either you conform, or you don’t. You have to choose—live thelife your uncle is setting out for you, hide behind the suits and the books, or be the guy Mitchell came to.” He finally looked up. “The guy none of us could talk Levi out of, and take a stand.”

The irony that Caleb himself had ultimately been the one to talk Levi out of their relationship made Caleb’s chest tight enough, he rubbed at his solar plexus.

“You good?” Angel asked, his fork stilling and his gaze going to Caleb’s rubbing fingers. “Where’s your puffer?”

“I’m fine,” Caleb snapped.

“Fine. You’re fine.” Angel shrugged and went back to his meal. “We all agreed, since the Council had talked it out, that Mitchell deserves our support for going out on a limb. For being authentic. He wasn’t wrong when he pointed out the Council exists to support the students. Not just the little kids who want a party and a stupid dollar-store gift. Everyone on this campus has the right to feel safe. None of them, including you, should feel like they’re going to get their ass kicked for showing up to the bar in a kilt.”

“Skirt,” Caleb corrected quietly, face flushing hot as he peeled the cellophane away from his sandwich. “Everyone knows it’s only a kilt if you don’t wear anything underneath.”

“You see?” Angel grinned, thumping a finger down on the table between them. “Was that so hard?”

Caleb drew a breath in through his nose, and bit into his ham and cheese.

“I’m asking you,” Angel said. “Help us out. Help Mitchell. He’s high-strung. He needs someone who gets what he’s doing. As much as I might admire his guts, I don’t get it. You do.”

Caleb chewed and swallowed before he replied. “You think getting up there and showing off what I am is going to help me feel safer around here? Do you know what people say? You don’t hear their shit.”

Angel snickered. “I heard you laid some jerk out for making a comment. I think you’re real used to looking after yourself and being tough and scary, and I think you should give your friends a little more credit. So, people talk. So what? Do you ever listen to the ones telling you they admire you for at least trying?” He pushed his empty plate away and pulled his dessert plate to the front. “Or do you just punch out the ones dumb enough to say shit out loud?”

Caleb snorted.

“You may not see it, Caleb, but some of us admire that you have the guts to walk on campus every day and at least try. If I had to deal with the shit you do every day—and I’m black—I’d fold like a card house. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

Caleb thought about how he couldn’t give up the skirts or the silk or even the eyeliner to make Levi feel better about dating him, or his uncle feel more comfortable around him. But he couldn’t be honest with them, either, because he couldn’t lose anything else in his life.

“I could lose everything,” he whispered, more to himself than Angel.

“Think what you could gain, though.”

“No one is going to think any better of me because I wear it all on the outside. They’ll just have more reason to?—”

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