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@AdriánBravo Nah just making sure we can stay friends
I snorted. He was such a clown.
After shooting off another couple tweets about the work we were doing at the Center and a few more aimed at my teammates, I shoved my phone in my back pocket and joined Simeon. The kids were lined up and running through a banner before the game started. Yaritza was calling out their names with a megaphone like it was a big game, and the rest of the counselors had brought the other campers to cheer. It was cute. Or it would have been if there hadn’t been crowds of waiting fans behind barricades and a pool of reporters waiting nearby. Both our agents were also lurking, although they were probably going to cut out as soon as we were away from the masses.
“Sorry, bud. I’m here now.”
“What the hell were you doing playing with your phone? There’s actual photographers here, you know, and we’re the ones who arranged this game. The jig is up about keeping our location on the low.”
“Tell me about it. My father just called me because the Bravo-being-gay-for-Boudreaux rumors have already started up.”
Simeon shot me a startled look. “What?”
“Yup. Someone took a picture of us eating lunch, and everyone is tripping like we were on a date.”
“Were we just eating lunch in the picture? Because the other part would look pretty gay, man.”
“Yep, just the eating. Don’t worry about it. I already clapped back on Twitter. Tagged you and everything.”
Simeon hesitated for a second before pulling out his phone. I grinned in anticipation, feeling really good about myself for standing up to the homophobes. My grin faded once Simeon’s lips pursed and he shoved his phone away again. He shook his head.
“What?”
“Nothing. The game is about to start.”
“Dude. What? Did someone say something?”
“Yeah. You.”
“What the fuck? How was there anything wrong with my tweet? I was defending you.”
Simeon laughed. “Adrián, I get that you’re trying, but those tweets didn’t have a goddamn thing to do with defending me and had everything to do with you wanting to prove you don’t like men. Because that would be the worst thing in the world, wouldn’t it?”
“Uh, yeah, it’d be pretty bad since I’m not fucking gay. I have no problem with you being gay, or anyone else, but I’m not.”
“Because you like eating pussy.”
“Yup.”
“Guess what? There are people out there who enjoy eating pussy just as much as eating a twink’s tight little ass. It’s called being bisexual or pansexual.” I started to protest, but Simeon cut me off with a sharp wave of his hand. “And besides that, your little joke about gay marriage isn’t funny.”
“Wow. I guess everything I say is wrong.”
“When you’re making light of the fact that our government is being run by bigots who want to strip away my right to marry and probably to adopt a kid? Yeah. It is wrong. I don’t give a shit about you trying to get a pat on the back for being a good ally, or that the only way to get through to your fans is to talk about how funny it is that anyone would ever assume you like dudes. What I do care about is that you once again turned me into a joke.”
He started away while I stood there like a chump, scrambling for a way to defend myself and coming up short. I was vastly unprepared to argue with a gay guy about microaggressions, especially when I’d thought I was doing the right thing.
“Simeon,” I called after him. “Come on, man.”
“Just focus on the damn game. People are looking.”
He was right. There were parents, and photographers, paying attention to our little spat. A few even had their cameras poised as though they’d documented the heated exchange, which was just great. With one picture implying we were fucking and this series making it seem like we weren’t getting along, it was starting to look like this PR stunt might backfire.
Simeon
“We fucking suck.”
“Hey!” I protested, poking Brayden’s shoulder. “Watch your mouth.”
“He curses,” Brayden muttered, nodding at Adrián. “A lot.”
Adrián had the decency to look chagrined instead of sulky and resentful, which had been the case for the past hour. For the entire scrimmage, he’d stood at the edge of the field with his arms crossed and his mouth set in a frown when he wasn’t coaching.
“Yeah, well, I’m kind of a jerk.” Adrián said, glancing at me and then away. “Don’t be like me, kid.”
Now, that had been an unexpected admission. That a grudging comment was enough to impress me either meant I was just as soft as Gavin had always said, or I was sweet on Adrián despite his asshole nature. Given how salty I’d been over his need to insist he was definitely no way not even a little bit queer because pussy, even though he’d practically creamed his pants in the diner, it was more likely that I was starting to crush on the bastard. There was no other reason it would bother me so much.
