Page 59 of Caden & Theo
Theo lets out a breath. “Well. That wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.”
I glance over at him, still feeling the echo of Marcus’s words in my chest. “No,” I say. “It wasn’t.”
THIRTEEN
THEO
It’s loud.Like, body-vibrating, floor-thumping, bass-in-your-rib-cage loud.
It’s the kind of loud that drowns out thoughts and pushes everything else—stress, exams, deadlines, guilt—to the back of my skull until all that’s left is the heat of too many bodies and the neon pulse of the strobe lights above the dance floor. I needed this. A break. My English lit course is kicking my ass, but in the best way. I’ve been buried in Baldwin essays and Chaucer translations for weeks, my dorm desk a graveyard of coffee cups and highlighters running dry. I love it, I really do—but if I didn’t come up for air, I was going to start dreaming in MLA format.
So I let Jordan drag me out here.
It’s not a gay club, but it’s queer-friendly, with rainbow stickers on the entrance and unisex bathrooms that don’t make anyone flinch. The air smells like sweat, vodka, and bad decisions. It’s perfect.
I’m wearing a slim-fit tee that clings to my chest and jeans that ride a little lower than I usually go for. My curls are pushed back off my forehead, and I’ve had just enough vodka to stop worrying about whether they’re frizzing from the humidity.
“Didn’t think we’d see you tonight,” Jordan shouts over the beat, leaning close.
I glance at them, eyes adjusting to the strobing lights that paint their brown skin blue, then red, then purple. Jordan’s wearing glitter eyeliner and an oversized button-down shirt that somehow works as clubwear. They grin, tipsy and warm.
“Thought you’d be off playing house with your mysterious baller boy,” they add, smirking behind their drink.
“He’s not mysterious,” I say, dodging the question more than answering. “Just… busy. Game on Sunday.”
“And you’re not going?”
I shake my head, trying to play casual. “Midterms are coming. I needed a weekend off.”
Jordan gives me a knowing look, but they don’t press. That’s one of the things I love about the group I’ve found here. Nobody pushes. Nobody assumes. They know how complicated it can be—being out, being closeted, being somewhere in between. They’ve all lived it. They get that sometimes, you can’t say everything.
Still, a flicker of guilt dances in my chest. I know where Caden is right now—at his apartment having an early night after spending all day with the team and reviewing film. That or he’s running drills in his head. It’s his first season, and yeah, he made it through training camp, and yeah, he’s had some decent minutes, but nothing’s guaranteed.
His contract is a two-way deal, which means he’s splitting time between the league squad and the G League affiliate. One minute, he’s flying across the country with pros. The next, he’s taking a bus to bumfuck nowhere to play in half-full gyms with barely functional scoreboards. He’s grinding every day, trying to prove he belongs.
And I’m here.
Dancing. Drinking. Laughing.
Living.
Which makes me feel like shit.
But I also know I need this. My junior year is kicking my ass. The course load is brutal, my GPA’s hovering around a 3.6, and I’m finally locking in my focus—secondary education with an English major and a sport admin minor. That means even more internship hours, observation reports, and fieldwork.
I love Caden. I do.
But he’s not my whole life.
He’s part of it—an incredible, heart-racing, curl-your-toes part—but I’ve built something else here too. A group of friends who know me as me. Theo. Not Caden’s best friend. Not the quiet kid from Gomillion. Just… Theo.
I deserve to be here. Even if part of me misses him like crazy.
Jordan nudges my arm again. “You good?”
“Yeah,” I say. Then, because it’s true, I smile. “I’m really good.”
They tilt their head, studying me. “You ever gonna bring this basketball ‘bestie’ around?”
