Guyliner

by J. Leigh Bailey

  “Yeah, I’ve got to get back too,” Marc said. “I saw you ditch the awards—great idea by the way—and decided to follow.”

  They’d gone halfway down the hall when Graham gave in and asked the question that he had been obsessing over all evening. “Isn’t Connor coming? He’s still part of the team, right?”

  “Yeah, he said he’d be here.”

  Graham nodded. They walked the rest of the way in silence.

  Back in the cafeteria, Coach Mullin stood at the podium, beaming. He was a small man, maybe five-five, with a compact, wiry build earned through years of sports and exercise. Silver glinted in his red hair, and his voice still carried a bit of an Irish lilt. Graham took his seat. While he’d been out of the cafeteria, the meal had been delivered, so the clank of forks on plates could be heard around the speeches.

  Graham’s mother leaned across his father. “Is everything all right?”

  Graham nodded, even as his dad said, “We’ll talk about it later.”

  “…and I’m very pleased to recognize this year’s soon-to-be State Champion soccer team. After an undefeated regular season, and after taking the sectional and regional titles, I have no doubt that we’ll go all the way this year.”

  Riotous applause from the soccer players and their families.

  Coach Mullin introduced each of the players and asked them to stand and be recognized.

  “Graham Parker, the starting goalkeeper, and probably the best goalkeeper we’ve ever seen in Green Valley.” Like each of the players before him, Graham stood and forced a smile.

  The crowd cheered, the same as they had for the other players. Someone shouted “fag,” but Graham didn’t turn around. Coach Mullin glared at the offender, and Graham’s dad shifted to look behind them, his mouth pressed into a tight line. Some of the attendees started grumbling, but whether it was in support or disgust, he didn’t know. Probably a combination of both.

  “Every year—” Coach Mullin raised his voice to gain everyone’s attention. When the muttering had died down, he continued, “—the team votes for a Most Valuable Player Award. This award is given to the player they feel contributed the most to the team’s success either in skill or in morale. Sometimes, as in the case of this year’s recipient, it’s both. It’s my very great honor to present the Most Valuable Player Award to…. Graham Parker!”

  The coach reached down and pulled up a standard-looking trophy—the tall vase polished and etched—with a goalkeeper statue at the top. “Graham, please come up and accept your award.” Coach Mullin gestured to Graham, beckoning him to come forward.

  Graham slowly got to his feet, his eyes wide. Him? They’d given the trophy to him? He’d figured that he was too new, too different for the players to vote for him. This wasn’t one of the coaches’ awards, this was his teammates. How cool was that?

  A couple of whistles pierced the applause. A few players started chanting “Guyliner! Guyliner!” but it was good-natured, respectful. He grinned and waved at the team captain, Travis, and started to walk between the tables to the ministage.

  A sudden hush came over the crowd. The cheering and chanting cut off abruptly. Coach Mullin stood there with his mouth gaping and eyes wide.

  “Oh my God,” someone blurted out. “Is that Connor?”

  Connor? Graham whirled. It was definitely Connor, but a Connor he’d never seen before. A Connor who’d walked straight out of one of his dreams. Connor stood inside the doorway, looking very much like a framed portrait. He wore a pair of sinfully tight jeans with holes in the knees, faded along the seams from wear. A white tank shirt covered his broad torso, leaving his muscular arms bare. His blond hair had been styled into a trendy, tousled look that was sexy as hell on him. If all that wasn’t enough to set his heart beating, thick black eyeliner outlined his hazel eyes.

  Graham had never seen anything so beautiful in his life. Or so stupid. Where the hell are Connor’s crutches?

  Connor started forward, clomps from his work boots echoing in the terse silence of the room. His gaze locked on Graham, never wavering. He stopped less than a foot away. Graham wanted to touch him, to pull him close, but he resisted. He had no idea what was going on.

  “Hi,” Connor said.

  “Hi,” Graham repeated. “You’re wearing eyeliner.”

  “You’re not.” Connor traced the area under Graham’s eye.

  “Didn’t feel like it.”

  A fierce light entered the lined hazel eyes. “I’m not ashamed to be seen with you.” Connor reached out and gripped Graham’s waist and drew him in. Connor buried his other hand in Graham’s hair. A bare inch separated their faces, their breaths mingled. Time stopped.

  “You’re not a dirty little secret,” Connor whispered.

  Graham’s breathing hitched.

  Connor dipped his head down the last remaining inch and covered Graham’s mouth with his. It was a kiss full of tenderness, full of promise. In full view of hundreds of people.

  Graham pulled back. “What are you doing?”

  “Proving a point.”

  “To whom?”

  “You. Me. Everyone.” He leaned forward until his forehead rested against Graham’s, his eyes closed. “I’ve decided that denying it—who I am and what I feel for you—was making me miserable. At least this way if I’m miserable, I’m being honest about the cause.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into?” Graham wanted to shout for joy and spend the next few hours kissing and holding Connor. He also wanted to protect Connor from the ignorance and hate that could come his way now.

  “Not a clue.” One eye opened and looked at him. “So, have we caused a commotion?”

  “I’m afraid to look.” Graham kept his head ducked, fingers wrapped around Connor’s arms.

  “Did I prove my point?”

  Graham chuckled. “Yeah.”

  “Whew. Marc thought I should bring flowers. Allyson thought I should ask you to prom.”

  Graham snorted.

  “You don’t want to go to prom, do you?”

  Graham fought a grin at the fear in Connor’s voice. “No. Absolutely not.”

  Connor’s body relaxed. “Oh, thank God. I’d have done it. I want points for that.” He shuddered. “Before… well, before, Allyson and I had talked about going. I was already looking for an excuse to avoid it. Just so you know it’s the prom part that’s revolting, not the you-and-me-at-prom part.”

  “I’ve got an idea. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Yeah? Thank God. I’m a little freaked out right now. This whole center-of-attention, scandal-causing thing is not my style.”

  “Yeah, I bet.” Graham grabbed Connor’s hand and together they exited the cafeteria, leaving chaos in their wake.

  Chapter 39

  THE TRIP to the parking lot occurred in a kind of haze for Connor. The thrill of doing something so outrageous, so important, obliterated most of his cognitive processes. Before he knew it, they were standing in front of his Neon. Connor dug into his pocket for the key.

  “Where are your crutches? And your brace?” Graham sounded appalled.

  Connor smiled and shrugged. “They kind of ruined the look.” His knee was a little sore, but it had been worth it. Despite the nerves and the potential for mortification, he hadn’t wanted anything, not even his brace, to ruin the impact. Go big or go home, right? “Ouch!” He rubbed his shoulder where Graham had hit him. “What did you do that for?”

  “For being a dumbass. At least tell me you have them in the car.” Graham shaded his eyes and peered into the backseat.

  “Yeah, yeah, they’re in there.” Connor popped the locks with his key fob and opened the door.

  “Stop.”

  He looked at Graham over the top of the car. “What?”

  “Put the brace on.”

  “Okay, Mom.” Connor laughed. “But so you know, if we get caught and dragged back inside, it’s your fault.”

  “I’ll risk it,” Graham said
dryly. “I’m not going to risk your knee, though.”

  “It’s really getting better. The therapy seems to be helping. Rick, he’s my therapist, is a major pain in the ass, but I can’t argue the results.” He pulled the brace out of the backseat.

  “Yeah? My therapist, after the burns and stuff, was a sweet little old lady who cursed like a sailor. She was all grandmotherly until you started to whine, and then she was a drill sergeant.”

  Connor tugged the Velcro straps across the brace and stuck them in place. “The crutches will have to stay in the back. I can’t drive with them.” He scooted in the seat, angling his body so his braced leg would fit and still give him room to accelerate and brake with his right. He glanced over as Graham buckled his seat belt. “So, where to?”

  Graham appeared to think about it. “The shed? I’ve still got the key.”

  “Excellent.”

  Connor steered the car the half block to the other side of the campus and parked near the athletics shed. He spent the entire trip—a whole three minutes—grinning like an idiot. After all the emotional crap he’d gone through over the last few days—hell, the last few weeks—the sheer happiness of the moment felt like someone had lifted a semitruck off his chest. For the first time in longer than he cared to think about, things looked clean and bright. Images were clearer, edges more defined, colors bolder. His mind was no longer clouded with denial.

  Graham unlocked the equipment shed’s door and held it open for Connor to get through with his crutches. The clean smell of paint still lingered in the air. “I still can’t believe you finished this up while I was off.”

  “Yeah, well, it was something to do.” Graham tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked on the balls of his feet.

  “Nice thought, but you’re full of it.” Connor grinned. “I’ve been watching you. I know what your schedule has been like.”

  “Really?” Graham cocked his brow. “You’ve been watching me, huh? Should I be worried I have a stalker?” He stepped closer and pulled his hands out of his pockets to grab onto the belt loops of Connor’s jeans.

  “Maybe.” Connor almost didn’t recognize his own voice. Breathy and coy wasn’t really his thing. “Are you going to get a restraining order?”

  Graham shook his head slowly. “Nope. I like that you’ve been watching me.”

  Connor struggled to breathe as Graham leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to his lips. He sighed and deflated, trusting Graham’s grip to keep him upright. When they broke apart a few minutes later to catch their breath, Connor rested his head on Graham’s shoulder.

  “Are you sure about this? About us?” Graham asked.

  Connor tilted his head enough to look into Graham’s face. Graham’s eyes were closed, but his face was grave. Connor waited until Graham opened his eyes before he answered. “You’re asking me that now, after the spectacle I made of us?”

  Graham stepped back, and Connor immediately mourned the loss of the heat and strength of his body. Graham walked to one of the tall shelves and pulled out a stack of gym mats and laid them on the spotless cement floor. Then he settled on the pile and crossed his arms on top of his bent knees. Connor followed suit, apprehension keeping his movements slow.

  “There’s still time. You could play it off as a joke or a prank. I don’t want you messing up your life for me.”

  Connor leaned back, arms braced behind him, legs stretched out in front. After all this, Graham didn’t want him? That could be really, really awkward. He studied Graham’s serious face. No, Graham wasn’t uninterested. He looked cautious.

  “First,” he said, reaching for Graham’s hand, “I’m pretty sure everyone’s seen the pictures. Why would we try and play it off as an even bigger prank? No one would buy it. Second, I didn’t do it for you, not entirely. Yeah, if you weren’t a factor, I probably wouldn’t have done it, at least not quite so spectacularly, but I did it for me. I’m tired of pretending to be who everyone expects me to be. I’m not the Golden Boy. I’m not perfect. For years I’ve worked hard to be this person, to live up to my father’s expectations, the school’s expectations. But I can’t. So I’m taking this one thing for me. I hate that it’s going to change people’s views of me. I hate that people I’ve considered friends might desert me, but my true friends will stick, no matter what.”

  He took a deep breath and scooted closer to Graham. “Also, I’ve already told my parents. It’s a done deal.”

  “You told your parents? How did it go? How did they take it?”

  Connor sighed. “Well, after a big blowout that actually cleared the air between my dad and me, we talked. They’re okay. A little surprised maybe, but mostly they were upset that I hadn’t felt like I could talk to them about it.”

  “Really? That’s good, right?”

  “Yeah. Can I tell you how awesome my mom is? She’s already researching how to set up a local PFLAG group. I told her I could probably introduce her to your parents and that would cover the community. No formal support group required.”

  “You know we’re not the only ones, right?”

  “I suppose. That’s what Mom said, anyway. I’m pretty sure she’s planning a Green Valley Gay Pride Event.”

  “Your mom’s a bit of a social activist, huh?”

  “Oh yeah. You should have seen her two years ago when she campaigned for healthier lunches in schools. She’s the reason there is no longer a soda machine in the cafeteria.”

  “How’d your dad take it?”

  Connor laced his fingers with Graham’s. “A little shocked. At first I thought he was going to hit the roof, but he said he was more concerned about how people would treat me. That’s when Mom got all excited about the prospects of a support group and all. Dad looked at me and said ‘If anyone gives you shit, you let me know. We don’t put up with that around here.’ I couldn’t believe it.” He stopped and laughed. “And now I’m rambling. Tomorrow I have to tell my brothers. That should be fun.”

  “Not your sisters?”

  “Abby’s too young to understand, and Becca already knows. My parents want them to be prepared in case anyone gives them a hard time about it.”

  “It could happen, you know.”

  “Are you trying to scare me away?”

  “Could I?”

  “Nope. I’m out and proud and nothing can change it now.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “There are going to be some people who’ll think you somehow turned me gay, but you and I know that’s not true. I’m gay. I probably always have been. I ignored it and denied it so well and for so long that I deceived myself. And others. I hate that I took advantage, even unintentionally, of Allyson. I used her to maintain the image I’d created. Luckily, she’s a good person and a better friend. She’s not mad at me, even after what I did.”

  Graham stretched out beside him. “So, this is for real? You and me.”

  “Yep. If you want, that is.”

  “Yeah, I want. Can you do me a favor, though?”

  “Probably.”

  “Don’t do the eyeliner thing. It’s sexy as fuck, but it’s kind of weirding me out.”

  Connor burst out laughing. “Okay, but only if you promise to keep wearing it. Besides, it took Becca like half an hour to do this. She kept yelling at me to stay still, but I can’t control my eyes twitching. Seriously, how do you do it?”

  Graham wiped his thumb under Connor’s eyelid, wiping away the black line. “Practice.” He repeated the gesture with the other eye. “Much better. More you.” Graham braced himself over Connor and bent down to kiss him. He pulled up short when a high-pitched ringing sound came from Connor’s pocket.

  “Crap. My phone.” Connor shifted and reached into his front pocket.

  “Dude, that was epic!” Marc’s voice exploded before Connor could say “hello.”

  “Epic, huh?” He rolled his eyes.

  Graham tilted his head closer to the phone. “I want to hear this.”

  “You have no idea.
It was amazing. They’ll be talking about this for years. It’s going to be legendary.”

  “What happened after we left?”

  “The minute you guys were out of sight, it’s like the whole room exploded. People were talking and shaking their heads. There was some grumbling, some giggling. Then Roy shouted something about fags and garbage. Mullin was still on the stage, trying to get people to settle down. Well, he heard the fags comment and yelled into the mic that such language was unacceptable. A couple of the parents stood up and said that such a display—meaning you and Graham—was unacceptable, and then Petrewski stood up and called those parents out on being close-minded. I seriously thought there was going to be a major battle.”

  “No way.”

  “It was chaos. I recorded the whole thing on my phone. I’ll send it to you later. Anyway, things were starting to get out of hand when Coach Baxter stalked to the front of the room and hollered for everybody to shut up. Then he said something about how ashamed he was that all these people, parents especially, would care so much about who was kissing who when we were supposed to be honoring the athletes.”

  “Baxter said that?” Connor would have thought that the grumpy old man would have been at the front line of the antigay movement.

  “You know him. If it doesn’t have anything to do with promoting sports in Green Valley, it’s not important. Give me a second.”

  Connor could hear someone talking to Marc in the background. When he came back, he said, “Allyson wants to talk to you.”

  “I have some news for you too,” she said when Marc handed her the phone. “I did some thinking this afternoon and took a trip to the office. Did you know that the hallways are under constant surveillance?”

  Connor did know that. He’d been on the student council when a student had made a motion to stop the district from installing the cameras. The motion had failed. “Yeah. What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “And did you know that defacing school property comes with an automatic suspension? And that Green Valley High has a stringent antibullying policy?”