Unlike my usual haste, I was among the last to clear out of the locker room, owing largely to the head start everyone else had had on me. A few guys gave me nods or other subtle indications of sympathy as they passed to leave; more passed by with contempt or animosity. The lobby was largely empty when I passed through the doors separating it from the freezing rink, hockey bag slung over my shoulder. My parents were standing with the Broussards, talking in hushed tones. I had no choice but to approach them. I had seen Mr. Broussard headed towards the Trojans' locker room after Theo was taken there, so I knew who to inquire with.
"He's a bit shaken up, but he got better once he'd calmed down. We're lucky he didn't hit his head. Things could've been much worse," I had just watched Million Dollar Baby on Netflix and all that was running through my mind was the possibility of Theo being injured similarly, one wrong fall could change his life forever. The thought shook me to my core.
"Kirk's suspended three games. Coach also told Scott, Eric, and Mark not to dress next game," I informed the quarter of concerned adults. "As he should," mom replied, anger evident in her voice, outraged on the Broussards' behalf. "I didn't want him to play tonight," Mrs. Broussard said, blankly.
"Did Theo drive himself to the game?" I asked. His parents seemed confused but his father replied in the affirmative. "I need to talk to him, apologize..." I let my words hang, unsure of how to phrase the rest of the sentence. My thoughts had flown out my mouth before they had refined themselves into appropriate speech.
"It's late. We should be getting home. I'm sure Theodore doesn't want to be mobbed when he comes out here," Mrs. Broussard decided, cutting off both her husband and my mother, who seemed ready to shoot down the idea; her husband likely to protect their son's well-being and my mother to apologize for my impertinence. Mrs. Broussard then got the other three adults headed towards the exits.
As she left, she told me in a hushed voice, "keep my boy safe and have him back by two, okay?" Her voice conveyed the sentiment this was a final warning not to hurt her son a third time. I checked my phone and confirmed that two a.m. was still almost three hours away. Again, I had to wonder what she assumed was happening.
Slightly labored breathing behind me caught my attention and I noticed the presence at my periphery for the first time. Theo stood there before me, in obvious discomfort from the weight of his hockey bag bearing down on his injured body. I longed to be able to comfort him.
"I'm an asshole. Can I buy you a late dinner to make up for it?" The question hung in the air for a torturous few moments. Theo's face projected skepticism at my offer, which I understood and expected.
"Our parents left you for me to drive home?" I nodded in confirmation. "Dinner's the least you could do," Theo's voice was cold as he moved towards the main doors. I went to take his bag for him, to relieve some of his pain, but he initially rejected the advance. A few more pained steps and he relented, although he insisted on holding onto his stick, maintaining as much of his pretension of well-being as possible. He kept himself a few paces ahead of me, still able to move at a brisk pace, whereas I was slowed by the two large bags.
The silence persisted throughout the car ride to Johnny's. The diner would be the only place open outside of the city at this time of night. The restaurant was cheap and a favorite spot for high schoolers at all hours of the day. This was an odd hour for the diner, too late for the dinner rush and too early for the after-party crowd, so it would be mostly empty. We had no trouble finding a booth in the secluded section of the diner. Theo sat with his back to the wall and feet up on the booth cushion, perpendicular to me, as if shielding himself from my presence. I moved to mirror his positioning, not wanting to come off as too forceful.
When the waitress asked for our drink orders, Theo gave his food order as well. I did the same. He clearly wanted this over with as soon as humanly possible. I had the advantage that this wasn't a place known for its fast or efficient service. We'd have at least twenty minutes before our food arrived, even if the diner's current state largely resembled a ghost town.
"Did I tell you I'm an asshole? Because it's true. God, Theo, I'm so sorry. I can't believe you think I was playing with your feelings like that. I can't believe I let that shit happen to you during the game. You were almost..." That was a sentence I didn't want to finish. "I would've killed Kirk if anything had happened to you." My words hung in the air, but they had caused Theo to look me in the eyes for the first time that night.
"You don't mean that."
"I'm dead serious. I would've taken a skate blade to his neck." I shifted position so I was sitting properly, shoulders squared and leaning forward over the table, despite my own shock at the words coming out of my mouth.
"You're not capable of anything like that, Charlie," Theo stated, matter of factly.
"I hurt you. I should be capable of hurting someone like Kirk so much worse." I don't know how we'd gone down this path of me hypothetically murdering a teammate out of love for Theo, even if the love part was left unsaid, but here we were.
"You can only hurt me because I care for you." The comment halted me and my words faltered. The food came and I had a few moments to collect myself before the waitress left and we could resume the conversation uninterrupted.
"I hope you know I care for you just as much, probably more than you'll ever know."
"You're straight. You could never know what it means to like you as I do."
"Theo, how could you know me so well and not at all? I'm not straight. Je suis un homosexual," I added the last part in French, his native tongue, in the hope I could communicate directly to his soul.
"That's not...that can't be. You're trying to make me feel better, right?" he paused, ever so briefly for a short intake of brief, continuing before I could formulate a response, "thank you, but you really can't keep playing with me like this. I just can't take it."
"Oh my fucking god, Theodore, what do I have to do to get this through to you? Theo, I'm a flaming fa—" my exasperation had led to my second use of that word within an hour and I winced at the reaction it caused. I had nearly yelled out that declaration, perhaps drawing some unneeded attention to our booth. "I'll make out with you right here, right now, in front of the five people here..."
"Not here. My car?" I hadn't expected my frustrated break would lead to us actually kissing. I pulled out my wallet as fast as I could, leaving thirty bucks on the table, which was enough to cover the bill plus a generous tip for the waitress, Linda, I think her name was. We said goodbye to her as we dashed out of the building. We speed-walked out of there and rushed across the near-empty parking lot. I stole a glance at Theo from across the roof of his car as I opened the passenger side door and caught him doing the same from the driver's side.
Once we were in those seats, the momentum stopped. We were both faced forward, staring out at the barren wasteland of an empty suburban parking lot as midnight approached. I had been half-joking when I made the proposition. Theo was the one who made it serious. Maybe he was having second thoughts? He'd have kissed me by now if that wasn't the case. I kept my eyes forward, knowing that if I looked at his face I could instantly tell that my hopes would be dashed.
I couldn't help my eyes from wandering from staring through the windshield to the rearview mirror, where they locked with Theo's. He made a subtle attempt at licking his lips. When I looked into his eyes, I didn't see reservation, I saw anticipation. He wasn't waiting to break the bad news; he was waiting for me to initiate. I turned my head to face him, while still leaning against the headrest. He mirrored my movements and now there was no mirror temper the tension between us. I brought my right hand up to the left side of his face. The webbing between my thumb and index finger fitting in perfectly at the bottom of his ear. I pushed my fingers into his blond curls and rubbed circles into the stretch of skin at the side of his face. He relaxed into my touch. His lithe body took on a feline quality in the little light that the car and outside world provided.
"Theo, is this what you want?" I asked before daring to proceed. Theo did not move his head, for fear of breaking contact, but purred out, "kiss me, Charlie." I surged forward, crashing my lips into his. I had kissed a few girls in middle school, mostly under the watchful eyes of our peers who had orchestrated the whole thing, and one boy, at summer camp after seventh grade. That was only a few months after I had quit travel. All those times not only paled in comparison to the present moment but had all been chaste pecks. In the boy's case, it had taken some cajoling for him to even agree to that. He had wanted to keep our relationship strictly on a mutual handjob level.
This was not that. It had not taken long for my tongue to rub against his lips, requesting access to his mouth, to which he eagerly complied. A part of me was inside of him. Fluids were passing between us. What was mine was his and what was his was mine. The meaning of this cloddish make-out session, for two sixteen-year-olds finding each other under the dim lights of a strip mall parking lot, was hard to overstate.
Theo came up for air first. I let out a noise of disappointment, which I was instantly embarrassed by, my neediness on full display. We both fell back into our seats, catching our breaths. I caught his eyes and saw he was as flushed as I imagined I was, both embarrassed by our desire in that way only adolescents venturing into uncharted emotional and sexual territory can be. Theo connected his phone to his car's aux cord and 6lack began crooning at a low volume. Now I just wanna know, don't just sugar coat, I'll say it all if you want.
"You still think I'm straight?" We looked at each other and laughed before Theo did something unexpected. He rolled his willowy body across the center console and positioned himself on top of me. He held my head in his hands before I had processed the change. I stared up into his eyes. Now could you tell me like it is, pretty little fears, music to my ears.
My chest swelled with hope for what this all meant and my eyes welled up a bit. I could see in his eyes this was just as meaningful for him. Even in that confined space, we fit together so well.