I fake gag. “Football. Pfft. Hockey is way sexier.”
Lennon must be too stuck in his memory, because he doesn’t even try to laugh at my attempt at lightening the mood.
“What did he do?” I ask.
“For our date, he was waiting for me outside the movie theater, and when I approached, he smiled. I’ve replayed that look on his face for so long, trying to find anything sinister in it, but to this day, I still confuse it for a genuine smile. Because as soon as I reached him, he looked over the top of my head. I turned to find the entire football team behind me.”
“Oh, fuck. Did they—”
“They didn’t do anything,” Lennon says. “A few fag-bombs were dropped, threats, and some pushing around. It was scary, and yeah, Daniel joined in, but the manager of the movie theater stepped in before anything worse could happen. He was on a cigarette break.”
“Lucky.” I hate to think what might’ve happened to Lennon if the manager hadn’t been there.
“I ran home and made the mistake of telling my mom what’d happened.”
“How is that a mistake?”
“It made her worry about everything from that point. She wanted to pull me out of the school, but none of the other schools in the area offered the AP classes I was taking. I chose to stay, thinking it’d be like a movie where I’d be constantly looking over my shoulder and worrying about being attacked by the football team, but I don’t know whether it was the manager or my mom talking to the school, but they pretty much left me alone other than some taunting and occasionally tripping me in the hall in front of everyone. I got good reflexes after a while. It wasn’t ideal, but I’ve heard of worse. Last I heard, Daniel had come out in college. Doesn’t play football anymore though.”
“I’m sorry.” The words are empty and meaningless.
The fear I have about coming out seems trivial in comparison to how scared sixteen-year-old Lennon would’ve been outside that movie theater.
“Then come the college years where I meet Dylan.”
“Another football player?” I ask.
“Worse. Baseball.”
I groan. “You’re killing me, smalls.”
Lennon laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “He asked me out a few times before I said yes. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake.”
“How long was it until you made the same mistake?”
“Hey, I lasted a good few months,” Lennon says proudly. “Then he turned up at my dorm after the team won their conference.”
“Championship winners are just too hard to resist, huh? Is that all I have to do? Win the Stanley Cup? No pressure or anything.”
“After tonight’s performance by the Dragons, I don’t have anything to be concerned about.”
“Ooh, ouch. Is that what your article’s gonna say tomorrow?”
“Maybe. But your name isn’t even mentioned, as promised.”
“Besides, I’m not the one who fucked up out there tonight,” I say. “Wait, we’re totally getting off track. Dylan.”
“When I told Mom I was dating a baseball player, she was worried it was going to be another Daniel situation. I assured her Dylan was different.”
“Maybe you should’ve stayed away from guys with a D,” I say.
Lennon laughs. “And become straight? No thanks.”
It takes a second to realize what I said had come out wrong. “I meant their names. Daniel and Dylan. You know a name that doesn’t have a D in it? Ollie.”
This makes Lennon laugh more.
“I’m just gonna shut my mouth. You were saying?”
“We had a couple of dates, doing the whole sneaking around thing, because while he was closeted, he wasn’t like Daniel. He was at least willing to admit he was gay but had to keep quiet because of his career prospects of making it to the majors.”
I recognize a giant similarity between Dylan and me, and I don’t like it.
Lennon’s tone softens, as if reading my mind. “You’re not like Dylan. You already acknowledge me in public, which is more than he did.”
“So, did you get over it and dump him?” It’d make me feel a lot better if that were the case. Part of me wishes I had the strength to tell Ash to leave sooner than he did. We both know Ash stayed with me for far too long.
“I wish I was smart enough for that. Because we both had roommates, we didn’t have the chance to, you know, do much … uh, physically. We planned for him to come over to my dorm when I knew my roommate had back-to-back classes. We were kissing when my roommate came back for a book he forgot for a class. Dylan hadn’t been there long, so we were still fully clothed but going at it up against the wall. When we heard the door click, we quickly separated, but it wasn’t fast enough. My roommate’s gaze flicked between us, and before either of us could speak or come up with a lie, Dylan punched me in the face and told me he came by to study, not to hook up, and that he wasn’t gay.”