"we've been sneaking around, but we do it lightly, no more middle school tongues, if you show up unarmed, be still our beating hearts"
latchkey kids • silversun pickups
Growing up an only child certainly had its perks; I didn't have to fight over the bathroom with anyone, no one ate my food out of the fridge, and I was free to do as I please without any annoying little siblings selling me out. But it also meant that I grew used to being alone from an early age.
At school I had friends in class and every day on the field for practice. We sat together at lunch and usually ended up at someone's house on the weekends. There was company when I needed it, but it didn't change the fact that most days I came home to an empty house.
Dad's office was in the city. He was gone early in the mornings and home late every night. Mum kept shorter hours but between my soccer practice and her work functions, we only saw fleeting glances of one another during the week.
On the rare occasion I wasn't home alone, it was Mum kissing my cheek on her way out the door, telling me there were leftovers in the fridge, or Dad's voice radiating authority over a conference call with some company like Decker Petroleum behind the great oak door of his office.
Some afternoons I wandered through the house like a ghost, moving through each room that was so pristine it was hard to believe anyone actually lived here. The silence could get so overwhelming at times, so I found an alternative: the public library.
Technically, the library was an addition of the university's facilities a few towns over but it was open to the public. It had been built in the 1800s and remodelled in 2012, though the brick and stone architecture remained antiquated.
No one knew how much I adored the place. There was the ambience of old-world charm, complete with long mahogany tables and overcrowded bookshelves that resembled something out of a Charles Dickens novel. The overhead lanterns now housed modern lightbulbs instead of candles but the appeal was never lost.
The library's distance from town was fortunate for me as it meant I was less likely to run into anyone I knew there. There was no excuse I could provide if someone from school found me nestled amongst books and dust instead of stirring up a storm on the soccer pitch.
The following Sunday morning, I parked my car and retrieved my book bag from the passenger seat, climbing out and slinging it over one shoulder. The air was cooler today, an overcast sky blocking out the last rays of summer sunshine. Autumn was setting in fast this year, leaves scattered along the sidewalk in tones of orange and gold.
Climbing the concrete steps, I entered the building and made my way through the large room towards the back. A series of bookshelves formed a barrier between the tables and the windows, making it easier to conceal myself from the random passer-by.
I'd just placed my bag on the floor and pulled out a chair when something – or rather someone – caught in my peripheral vision.
Connor was sitting at one of the large tables in the corner of the library. He was hunched over a book, furiously casting streaks of blue highlighter across the pages of what appeared to be a textbook.
I stood stock-still for a moment, unsure of what to do. Part of me wanted to turn and leave. The last thing I wanted to deal with today was Connor Taylor. If he saw me here, I would never hear the end of his ridicule.
Then again, he was here also. Studying, apparently. Didn't that cancel out the reason I was here to begin with?
I watched as Connor opened his laptop and began typing notes into an empty document. He was so caught up in his own world that he hadn't even glanced up once, much less taken any notice of me.
Maybe I was being dramatic but I felt it justified. All I wanted was a quiet morning in the library without worrying about any problems from the outside world. Dad had been getting on my nerves about asking Esme out, and Mum was only interested in talking about school work given how my first round of assessments were coming up.
A day with nothing but my books was the perfect downtime, and now I couldn't even have that.
Connor was still typing on his computer across the room. Someone dropped a heavy book on the desk near him and he didn't even flinch.
His presence baffled me. I'd been coming to this place for years and had never seen Connor here before. Did he come here often? Had he seen me here before and decided it was the perfect place for vengeance? Should I leave before he enacts some scheme and reveals my secret to the rest of my school?
Kicking the chair out, I collapsed into it and began to take out my notebook. I wasn't going anywhere. This area was secluded enough and as long as Connor didn't turn around, he wouldn't even see me.
I began to get started on my own work. My teacher had sent us home with the task of completing a full worksheet on identifying literary devices in the current chapter we were studying of A Tale of Two Cities. I also had a booklet of Maths equations waiting for me as soon I was done.
It wouldn't be a complete lie to say that I tried to get some work done, but Connor's presence was throwing off my concentration. I only made it halfway through the worksheet before curiosity got the better of me. Glancing up, I saw Connor was now scribbling something in a notepad. Even from this far I could see the blotches of highlighter left on the side of his hand.
Groaning, I slammed my binder closed and stalked across the room. Connor didn't hear me coming.
"I didn't know you could read, Taylor." I collapsed into the chair opposite his, cupping my chin in my palm and staring at him with a bored look. "You do know this is a library, right? I think you may have gotten lost on your way to the meathead convention."
Connor looked up, eyes widening. "Dakota?" He reeled back, slapping his notebook over the cover of his textbook, as though it would conceal what he was reading. "What are you doing here?"
"Something I thought only one of us knew how to do. You can chill, Taylor. I don't care that you're doing-" I cocked my head to read the title of his book, "-Biology."
"Whatever." He began hastily shoving his belongings into his bag and stood. "You can make fun of me all you want but I refuse to-"
"Woah, woah. Slow down." I caught his wrist to stop him from leaving. I wanted to know why he was here. If he left, I'd never be able to find out the answer.
"I know we're not friends but what is there to make fun of?" I asked. "What exactly are you doing wrong?"
Connor looked between me and the spot he'd just been sitting in and I knew he was deciding whether to tell me the truth or not. He sighed, sitting down again slowly. His bag dropped to the floor as he said, "No one knows I come here, okay? If people at my school found out they would just make fun of me for not doing something that's considered 'popular'. I already put up with it every time I'm in the classroom. I don't need to deal with it outside of school too."
"I'm still failing to see the problem here." I frowned. If hypocrisy were a person, I'd be beaten on the floor right now. "Plenty of people come here to work. You don't see them flying out of here like they're on fire."
Connor shook his head. "It's not the same. Can we leave it at that?"
"No." I said simply, and almost snickered when he groaned. Swinging my chair around so I was sitting on it backwards, I folded my arms across the top and levelled him a look. "You don't have to be embarrassed about studying, Taylor."
"It's not the studying," he flushed lightly, "it's the...I don't know. The intention behind it?" He sighed. "I can't believe I'm even telling you any of this. You're only going to use it against me."
"Believe it or not, you're not the free real estate in my head you think you are." That was a total lie but I ignored it. I flicked my fingers at him. "Talk."
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to hold it against me?"
"Depends how much of it is sellable."
He moved to pick up his bag again but I reached out a hand to grip his bicep and pull him back down. "Easy, Taylor. You're obviously wound up about something. And like it or not, I'm the only person here to listen. So, talk."
The war afflicted Connor's features. I watched as he went back and forth in his head, clearly weighing the pros and cons of telling me. Honestly, there were more cons, and I could admit that even after being the one to initiate the conversation.
Connor surveyed the table, biting his lip as he came to a conclusion. He nodded once, twice, before, "Okay. Fine."
I waited.
He said, "I'm not embarrassed about studying. I care about my grades and want to get into a good school after I graduate."
"But?"
He sighed. "But people think soccer is my entire personality. It's a big part, yeah, but it's not everything. There are other things I enjoy, other passions I want to pursue. Everyone at school only sees me as the Soccer Captain."
"Well, have you actually showed them anything more?"
He shot me an unimpressed look, reaching into his bag and pulling out a booklet before placing it flat on the table in my view. Biology Practice Test A. 98%.
"It's not like I hide it." Connor mumbled. "People just don't want to see it. If it's not disgust, it's surprise. Like the very thought of me being able to do anything other than kick a ball is unheard of."
"You can't even do that." I muttered.
He ignored my remark, instead pulling his sleeves over his fists and burying his chin in his palms. "I hate people looking at me like I'm this zoo animal who only knows one trick. Maybe I don't want to be the lion. Maybe I want to be zebra, going out and seeing the world. Trying new experiences."
I blinked. "You're not seriously comparing yourself to the plot of Madagascar, are you? Because that's super gay, just for the record."
Connor reeled back. "What? How did you get to that conclusion? That's not even what I meant. And sidenote, how is that gay?"
I waved a hand dismissively. "The lion and zebra? One-hundred percent gay for one another. That is a hill I will die on."
"You can't be serious."
"I was, and I am."
Connor sighed, gaze dropping to the table.
"Okay, so," I floundered for words, "you're sick of being the lion. Is that right?"
Connor sat up again, leaning back slightly in his chair as he glanced at me. "Well, I suppose if anyone would know, it would be you. I mean, you're the lion at your school, right? Soccer Captain of Ridgemount. Don't you ever feel the same way?"
No. He couldn't be asking this. This was dangerous territory. Connor and I were not the same people. If he couldn't deal with his popularity then that was his problem. None of this had anything to do with me.
But here he was. Asking. As though he had any right to. As if I'd give him the same honesty he was giving me. I couldn't do that though. And it wasn't even because we were sworn enemies or rival Captains or any of that. It was because he'd be forcing me to admit that he was right. That he'd found some truth within me in the last place I'd expected anyone to look.
The last person I'd expected to care.
He couldn't be asking this because if he did, I would have to return the honesty, and that would make it true, wouldn't it? He would be right, because the reason he came here was not that different from my own, and that would make us-
Relatable.
Something I never wanted to feel toward Connor Taylor.
So, instead of giving him the answer he was looking for, the one that was so clearly the truth, I simply said, "No. I come here for peace and quiet, not because I'm trying to escape."
He deflated then and I knew I'd lost him. Whatever shell I'd just forced him to pry open was exactly the one he was retreating into again now. What did I have to do to get him to stay?
Something in me changed then. I reached out and rapped my knuckles on the table in front of him, waiting until green eyes focused on me again before I said, "Maybe you don't feel like a lion, but pressure gets to everyone."
There wasn't a reason I could give as to why I felt this too important to let Connor go without knowing. It wasn't just the fact that I was sitting here having a conversation with Connor Taylor, a guy I had fought with for years, but it was exactly that. We were having a conversation and it may have been the most intimate thing we'd ever done.
Hearing Connor talk about hiding a part of himself only made me think about the me I hid away. The me who loved reading books and visiting art galleries and having a conversation with my parents that didn't revolve around their job or some class they wanted me to take for a future I didn't want.
"You're not two-dimensional." I said. "No one's that simple. Maybe you're just a soccer player to other people, hell, you're just a soccer player to me for that matter. But it doesn't mean you have to let it define you. And hiding away in a library two towns over on a weekend isn't defining yourself. It's protecting yourself. And I'd bet my left foot it's from fear of rejection."
Connor didn't reply for a few minutes, seemingly giving my words some actual consideration. Valid. I barely even understood where they'd come from myself.
Eventually he looked back down at the Biology practice test on the table. "It's not that simple."
"Then make it that simple." I said. "If you're really the King of Northshore, then you have the power to influence people and make them see that the status quo doesn't always need to be the status quo."
"Calm down, High School Musical."
I blinked. "How did your parents not know you were gay?"
He rolled his eyes. "I could say the same thing about you."
"Wow, you got a subscription for that bi erasure or does it just come free in the mail?"
The corner of Connor's mouth tugged upward slightly. "I couldn't imagine even paying money to be attracted to women."
"Hey now, there are plenty of women worth paying money for."
"Well I suppose compensation is due when you're the consumer."
"That's not how you felt Thursday night."
"No, but I suppose the services weren't lacking in the physical department either."
"So you see me as just a soccer player?"
"Hey, you were the one saying you couldn't relate to a zebra."
There was something different happening. The air between us was charged, but for once it wasn't with plain antagonism or sexual tension. It was...sincerity?
This conversation had brought about an air of honesty to Connor I'd never known, as though revealing these small truths to each other were some kind of deliverance. There was a glint in Connor's eyes that I'd never seen before but I couldn't quite place it. Hope? Ease? The smile spreading across his face was radiant, growing brighter with every second that passed until it felt like I was staring directly into the sun.
Light chatter filtered around us but it felt like we'd become isolated in this small corner of the library. Connor's chair was inches from mine, the unsubtle curve of his mouth twisting upward and his soft, pink lips right there and-
Before I even realised what was happening, we were both leaning in, and just as our faces were millimetres apart, I snapped out of it with a revolted, "What the fuck!"
My chair screeched nastily along the hardwood floor as I scooted back. People turned to look in our direction as I scooped my bag up, thoughts racing far too quickly through my head for me to make sense of them.
Connor appeared to have awoken from his trance and was shaking his head in confusion. He cleared his throat. "Dakota."
I shouldered my bag up, not caring if I damaged everything inside, and turned a dark glare on Connor. "If you tell anyone about this," I seethed, "I will end you."
I stormed out of the library, ignoring the looks I received.
Connor didn't try and follow. I reached my car and climbed inside, throwing my bag in the passenger seat before putting it in gear and quite literally fleeing the scene. The radio was turned up to a deafening frequency to no avail. My thoughts echoed louder than any rap song could.
What had I been thinking? I'd nearly kissed Connor. And in a public place!
God, I was going to be sick.
In all the time we'd known each other, Connor and I had never spoken like that before. Something had changed in the few short minutes we weren't at each other's throats for once. While my feelings of hostility towards him had temporarily been subdued, they'd quickly been replaced by ones I was sure I wouldn't like.
Because if they were the feelings I thought they were, then I was screwed.
***
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