Page 39 of Caden & Theo
The music thumps low under our feet. I sip a Sprite and listen to stories about preseason drills and how brutal Coach can be when he’s “in a mood.” I catch Caden watching me a few times, subtle and soft-eyed like he’s still surprised I’m here. I give him a grin and bump his arm, and for a second, it feels almost normal.
Until it doesn’t.
We’re outside near the grill when one of the juniors, a wiry guy with a chipped tooth and too much swagger for someone wearing flip-flops, tosses a joke into the conversation like it’s nothing.
He’s talking about another guy on the team, some freshman who wears a bandana and always sings along to Destiny’s Child in the locker room.
“Dude’s probably got aboyfriendin his sock drawer,” he says with a laugh around a sneer. “Real secret garden type.”
There’s a pause. A few guys laugh—tight and awkward, like they don’t want to but can’t quite help themselves. Someone coughs. The air shifts.
Caden and I go absolutely still. My stomach twists. I glance at him, but he’s staring straight ahead, jaw clenched, eyes unreadable.
I feel a flicker of heat rise in my chest, but before I can say anything, Jamari, one of the seniors, steps forward, holding a plate of wings and looking not at all amused. “Yo,” he says calmly, but loud enough to cut the noise around him. “Nah. We don’t do that here.”
The guy blinks. “What?”
Jamari’s eyes narrow. “I said, we don’t do that. Ain’t nobody here tryna hear you act like being queer’s a punch line.”
The air goes taut, a rubber band pulled too tight. To his credit—or maybe just because he’s smart enough to know when to back down—the guy mutters something and backs off, heading inside.
Caden lets out a breath so slow it’s nearly silent.
Jamari glances at us, eyes sharp, and nods once. “Glad y’all came tonight,” he says, voice easy again, before turning back to the grill like he didn’t just cut tension with a single sentence.
Caden nudges me lightly, barely touching. “Let’s go find some place quiet.”
I follow him, heart pounding—not from fear exactly, but from the way one careless sentence can unravel so much. Still, I catch myself smiling just a little.
Because Jamari had our backs, even though he doesn’t know it.
Because Caden is surrounded by at least a few good players, should he ever want to share his sexuality with them.
Because I’m here with him.
We step around the side of the house and keep on going to the street, the distant thump of bass fading behind us. It’s quieter now, the kind that hums with the buzz of everything left unsaid. Caden walks close, not touching, but his shoulder brushes mine now and then, like he can’t help it. Or maybe I can’t. I don’t even know anymore.
He exhales, long and slow. “So, that guy—the one who made that comment….”
I glance over, jaw already tight. “Yeah?”
Caden frowns, eyes forward. “Name’s Alan. Total dickhead. He’s not on the team, just some guy who hangs around because he thinks being near athletes makes him one.”
I scoff. “Well, he’s doing a great job repping the worst kind.”
“But Jamari—our captain—he’s not like that,” he says, more serious now. “He’s actually a good guy. Called Alan out once before, quiet but firm. He doesn’t put up with that crap.”
I nod, letting that sit for a second. “Anyone out? On the team?”
Caden shakes his head. “Not that I know of.”
My heart sinks, just a little. Even after everything, after all the texts, the phone calls, the whispered wishes across hundreds of miles, reality always cuts sharp.
But then he adds, quieter, like he’s trying not to make a big deal of it, “But there’s an LGBT group on campus. They do events, have meetings. Safe spaces and all that. And… I’ve seen couples, same sex, just walking across the quad, holding hands like it’s nothing.”
I stop breathing. My chest flutters with something warm and wild and way too hopeful. “Really?”
He nods, glancing sideways at me, like he’s gauging how much he should say. “Yeah. More than once.”
