Page 42 of Lace

“You’re welcome. Now up and out. I have places to be, sport.”

Caleb hopped down and turned to thank them.

“You’re welcome. Make it work, yeah?” Mitchell said.

Caleb nodded. “Yeah. See you.”

Mitchell waved as Caleb wove his way through the empty seats in front of the stage towards the exit of the student lounge.

“Have fun storming the castle!” Mitchell called.

Caleb just waved over his shoulder without turning, and tried not to think that he’d need a miracle.

Fourteen

Outside, the late fall air rushed to greet him in a whirlwind of cool fingers snaking up under his skirt. He shivered. Not a sensation he’d anticipated. It tightened his nipples under the thick leather and raised gooseflesh on his legs.

“Maybe should have stuck with the pants, genius,” he mumbled, hunching his shoulders and hurrying towards the student dorms.

From somewhere off to his right, voices drifted and he cocked his head. A gang of men were jogging towards the campus pub, their path bringing them into the same circle of light under a street lamp he was passing through.

“So now it’s official,” Shank stopped in front of Caleb, hands stuffed into his worn, too-small high school letterman jacket’s pockets. “You really are the biggest freak on campus.”

“Fuck you.” Caleb’s heart hammered and sweat broke out over his body. He could be as feisty and tough as he wanted, but six of them against one of him didn’t leave him much of a chance.

Shank lifted his chin. “Not likely. But go ahead. I’ll let you throw the first punch again.” The others shifted, the sound of feet shuffling on the walkway scraping loud over Caleb’s nerves.

“Just let me pass,” Caleb replied, knowing this was a fight he wasn’t going to win no matter who swung first. He clenched his fists but kept his arms close to his side.

“Problem?”

Caleb had never been so glad to hear the voice of campus security in his life.

“I’d like to pass, please,” he said, loud and clear, looking past the gang to the campus cop. “They won’t let me pass because I’m wearing a skirt.”

“Don’t see how that matters.” The security guard crossed his arms over his considerably puffed out chest. “Free country, gentlemen. Move along, please.”

Caleb stepped around them, though he couldn’t help flinching at the “Fucking homo-pervert creep” comment Shank threw at him.

“Watch your mouth,” the guard told Shank, who snorted at him and asked who was going to make him.

Caleb kept walking.

“I’m talking to you, pussy!” When Shank grabbed his arm, Caleb barely had time to stop walking when the guard freed him, twisting Shank’s arm around and making the bully squawk.

“You can’t do that!” Shank shouted at him, his attention thankfully off Caleb. “You can’t lay hands on me! You’re not even a real cop!”

“You started it by touching him. Now you can come with me quietly, or I can call your real cops, if you prefer cuffs.”

Caleb shot a glance at the guard, who tilted his head. “Unless you want me to call the cops for you?”

Shaking his head Caleb curled a lip at Shank. “Not worth ruining my night over. I don’t need his approval. And he can stick his barbed comments up his own ass and spin.”

The guard nodded. “Have a good night, Caleb.” He motioned with his head that Caleb should go inside.

So he did, walking the rest of the way to the entrance without looking back. He measured his pace carefully, so his footfalls remained steady and even. For once, he didn’t feel any fear over Shank or his friends, didn’t care what they said. It didn’t matter. It didn’t change who he was, or what he wanted.

He didn’t even care that the security guard had intervened on his behalf. He didn’t owe Shank anything, including a fight. Especially a fight. Realizing that was as liberating as opting for fishnet stockings over leather pants.

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