Page 102 of As You Walk On

I spent my last chunk of money saved for a prom haircut,plus bow tie and matching socks, ordering Mountainview apparel during the break. A pair of kitchen shears turned the T-shirt into a bonified stomach-revealing crop top. Man of my word and all.

Wearing it to school this morning required way too much courage, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Luca. It’s been happening more than I care to admit. I remember his black nails. The way we’re tired of accepting this role of masculinity Black and brown boys are obligated to uphold. His frankly “fuck your rules” mentality. Despite what I said outside the party, that’s what I really got from our conversation in the bathroom.

We’re both working toward being who we want to be.

“Yeah, so.” I stand taller, chin raised. “Is this a problem?”

“Uh, no. Why would it be?”

I shrug.

“But if you’re starting an OnlyFans to pay for prom,” Darren says, eyebrows wiggling, “one, you’re underage. Two, I support your thirst-trap behavior, but not in the name of formal wear and slow-dancing to Adele.”

It’s the first genuine laugh I’ve let out in more than a week.

“Shut up.” I wrench an arm around his neck, dragging him toward the track. “Tell me all about Bree, you sycophant.”

“Sure! But first tell me where these abs came from? Daaaamn, Theo.”

The team is stretching on the green field our track surrounds when Darren and I arrive. Guys go through their pre-practice routines, earbuds in, finding their zone. Some goof off. Two seniors, Abel and Julio, pass a soccer ball back and forth instead of warming up. Typical benchwarmer fodder.

Tingles spread through my belly. I’m shoulder to shoulder with Darren as half our teammates stop to look.

“Jealous wannabes,” says Darren. “Flex those abdominals.”

“Nothelping,” I mumble.

The second Jay sees us, he freezes. His large eyes narrow. He whispers something to Grant, an underclassman. Even from a distance, his smirk is electric. If everyone hasn’t caught a glimpse of us yet, Jay’s sharp whistle certainly fixes that.

“Nice quads, Wright!”

Stifled laughter follows. Three upperclassmen give me a standing ovation. Kavon shrugs before returning to his heel-toe drills.

By the time our spikes touch the polyurethane track surface, Jay’s waiting near the starting lines. Arms crossed, eyebrows knit, annoyed expression fully loaded. He’s paler than usual. His topknot is crooked, clothes wrinkled. He looks like he’s barely surviving a weeklong hangover.

Good.

“Why’re you dressed like that, D?” he asks. “You didn’t fail the dare.”

“I know.” Darren beams. Then, as casual as ever, he says, “Solidarity. You know all about that, right, Jayson?”

Jay’s jaw flexes at the betrayal. He levels me with an even stare. “Proud of you for not punking out.”

The impulse to punch him returns. But it won’t solve anything. Only add to my growing list of problems.

“Why would I?”

My cool response turns Jay’s face maroon. “Whatever.” He extends a fist bump. “We good? TNT, yeah?”

I blink hard. “What?”

“Come on, Theo. Let it go.”

“Let it...go?” Absently, my voice rises. Several eyes are on us. By now, I’m sure half the school’s heard about what went down between me and Jay at the party.

“It was a dare,” he says. “It’s what we always do.”

I can feel every bone and tendon in my fingers ache. Carelessly bitten nails dig into my palms. Resistance is waning.

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