Curtis Salazar

Nadia isn't pregnant after all — unbelievable, after all that drama. Turns out the pregnancy test she took and freaked out over was wrong and if there was anybody to be responsible for getting her pregnant, it was some random guy who she hooked up with before we started dating. News spread around quickly and one would think she'd be shy to come to school or ashamed but here she is a week later, with her short skirt, opened buttons and head held up high.

"Hey," Nadia says, ambushing me by my locker. I don't bother to hold in my groan, now of all times when I just happen to be alone. "What's up?"

I shut my locker and glare at her, "what do you want?"

She lowers her hand to her manicured nails, "Curt, is that a way to speak to your girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?" I scoff. "You're joking, right?"

She pouts, "oh come on, I was away for a week, doesn't mean we broke up?"

"Actually, we did break up and I'm not even sure if it's when I told you I can't do us anymore or when you wrongly accused me of getting you pregnant or when I confessed, I'm gay now," I list out, already getting drained from speaking to her. How on earth did I put us with her for three weeks?

"I'm sorry for the pregnancy thing, I missed my period and I freaked out, okay?" She sighs. "And I'm sorry for any other thing I did to make you want to end us. We make a good team, you and I."

"We don't and maybe you didn't hear this but I'm gay and I'm currently dating Timmy."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

My heart skips at that but then there's no way Nadia can know it is all a lie. "What?"

"There's no way you're gay, I'd know if I was dating a gay guy."

Tsk.

"Well, I guess your gay-dar is broken, see ya seniorita."

Nadia grabs my hand, "you're not gay. You and that- Timmy are playing some kind of game that I'd surely get to the bottom of."

I don't like the way she called Timmy's name, like it is some sickness. I yank her hand off me, done with delicacy and gentlemanliness. "Good luck with that, I like Timmy now."

She stares eye wide at me, sticks her nose out and stomps off catwalking. I watch her waist sway from side to side and a week ago, I'd probably be drooling over it but not anymore. Sex and physical attraction only went so far and it's terrible that it took me nearly four years to realize that. This is senior year and if not anything I want to graduate with peace of mind and having fun. Not being a shiny handbag to arrogant girls, having mindless sex and sulking when all that is done with. Maybe now that people think I'm gay, I might get a nice girlfriend who'd like me for me. Who I can talk to about anything and everything, who'd have my back and always want me around for the sake of loving my company.

I turn around to walk to my next class and I immediately see Timmy. He is walking out of a class with his female friend and co worker, wearing the remains of a smile on his face. His glasses are crooked and I don't know if it's because he doesn't notice it or it's big enough for the crooked-ness not to bother him but he leaves it that way. Some locks in his bangs were sticking out and he had his camera in his hands. I don't know when I start smiling as I watch him go, oblivious of my presence behind— Timmy's cute.

I jog up to him, swinging my arm around his shoulders, startling him and then using my other hand to mess with his hair more (that way he'd pat it back down, smoothing out all sides.)

"Hey!" Timmy scolds, trying to duck away from me and glaring. "Stop playing with my hair, I'm not a dog, you'll mess it up."

I reach for his camera, pulling it out from his neck, "Give me that."

"What are you doing?" He asks and I don't answer him, taking pictures of his red face and messy hair. Yes, I know how to use the camera too, Timmy taught me how.

"You always take pictures of others," I lower it from my face to see the pictures I took. He looks ridiculous in them, I chuckle. "Who takes yours?"

He puts his hand out, attempting to take the camera back but I move out of the way. "I don't like my pictures taken."

I know. "Now isn't that just ironic?" I ask, taking more pictures of him.

"Stop it Curt," he complains, adjusting his glasses and patting his stubborn hair down. "Why are you so jolly?"

"I'm not," I go through the pictures once more, laughing more with each one. I suck at this or Timmy's face when he's pouting is just pure precious comedy. "I'm actually quite pissed."

Timmy gives me a deadpanned look, "is that sarcasm?"

"No," I pass the camera back to him. "I met up with Nadia and she pissed me off. Then I saw you and came because I knew you'd make me laugh and ta da."

Timmy rolls his eyes, but I could see his lips trying not to twitch. "Happy to be of help then." Then he looks at the pictures I have taken, then glares at me. "You know this is my camera and I can just delete these, right?"

"Don't you dare," I warn. "Those are precious."

"Tch, if you say so."

"Ahem," someone clears their throat and Timmy and I turn to see his friend standing there. She looks away as soon as our eyes meet, meddling with the pink scarf covering her head, neck and shoulders. "Sorry to... Interrupt but Timmy, we have to go to the library?"

"Oh yeah," Timmy turns back to me. "Um, wanna come with?"

"No way," I smirk. "You should come with me. I probably already know everything you are going to search for in the library."

Timmy rolls his eyes, "of course. As tempting as that is, we'd pass." He sighs like he is about getting sad and I strangely feel the same. "See you later?"

I pout, "I have practice later."

He pouts with me too, then smiles. "I'd be there."

I smile, "you should be." And then for the fun of it, I mess with his hair again and run off. "Bye."

"Salazar!"

*

Ice Hockey, the pride sport of Glendale High. Almost everybody loves the sport, almost everybody goes crazy at the mention of the sport, parents glow with pride just knowing that their kids made the team and teenage boys that actually make it into the team, struggle against injuries and pain just to remain on the team and probably get drafted when the time came.

I, however, hearing the name Ice Hockey just caused me anxiety and probably mild depression. I know I shouldn't throw the word depression around anyhow but it really seems like it, some days I find it hard to get up in the morning knowing I'll be on the ice at some point in the day. Unlike my teammates who seem to glow and shine wider whenever it was time to play and whether we lost or not, it was worth it to them. Seeing the puck brought a smile to their faces and a spark in their eyes; seeing the puck for me just reminded me of my duty. My duty to make my father proud and not be a massive disappointment.

I watch them change in the locker room, arguing about something that had the Bruins involved and NHL— National Hockey League. I try as much as possible to stay away from that word, at this point I think it's a trigger to panic attacks for me. Anyway as they change and argue in loud voices they all look... at home. It's not that I felt out of place with them, not really. They have been my friends and teammates since freshman year, now we were senior and are still skating together. It's just, I feel cheated. I feel like I deserve to be this pumped about something and I'm not, I don't deserve to be among them. Ice Hockey is their life; Ice Hockey is a do or die for me and not in the good way.

Even Kenny looks at home and pumped with the sport and I'm noting this because I've heard people say 'gays don't like sport'. It clearly doesn't check out for Kenny.

Warren is the captain of the team and I remember during freshman year, after our last game that didn't go so well, I had a panic attack in the restroom and Warren found me. He helped me through it and I cried to him, telling him that I can't do it, that I didn't like it all that much and I wanted to do something else. Only, I didn't know what I wanted to do and my parents weren't giving any room for exploring and finding out or doing anything else. It's like I was born with a scroll that had Ice Hockey written on it. My dad insists I play and become a star and I didn't have a say in it.

Warren told me that it was normal to feel out and that I would get used to it as time went by. We bonded really close after that and he insisted we practiced together, teaching me everything I didn't know and helping us get better. Yes, I got better, I could play really well and I've been playing it since then but I've never gotten used to it and it's like every game I get more sick of it.

It is just like sex to me now, mindless and with too much effort. Not worth it and not something I liked very much that burned a spark in me like it did for others. I want that spark, that happiness, that feeling that I am doing something that is worth it, something that completes me. Ice Hockey isn't who I am and if almost four years of playing have taught me anything, it is that, I'd never truly belong. A part of me would remain distance and sad when it came to it. I want something else but then I remember in the voice and words of my mother;

"Well, Curtis," she had said, giving me a hug where our bodies barely touched. "We don't always get what we want. Just deal with it."

Just deal with it... Just deal with it...

"Yo Curt," Warren calls and I snap out of my thoughts to see him and the others by the door. "You coming?"

I blink and force a smile out, "yeah, I'll be right behind you guys."

"Cool," he says, following them out. "Don't slack behind."

"Sure."

Warren and Abel were drafted already in junior year and by the looks of it, Quincy and Kenny are probably next on the line to get drafted. What happens when I don't make it?

"He's going to kill me," I mutter to myself, pulling on my hair.

My phone chimes, distracting me from my thoughts. I pick it up and it's a text from Timmy.

Where r u? I'm taking pictures of your coach, he's finally letting me, I think he's in a good mood. Can't leave the locker room? Want me to come get you?

I smile at the text, reading it over and over. Yeah, I strongly believe Timmy's is psychic, he probably related to some great shaman back in Korea. If not how can you explain this? I quickly text him back— I'm fine, just got a little delayed. See you in a minute.

I grab my skates and hockey stick and leave the hockey room. This isn't going to be my first or second anxiousness when it comes to the sport but it's not as if I can give up now so I rather just get it over it. I'll be fine.

I make it to the school's indoor Ice Rink and true to what Timmy said, Coach is taking pictures, now with the guys behind. I'd never miss a chance to be in front of Timmy's camera but I sit this one out. There's only one good thing about Ice Hockey— the ice and the fact that we get to skate. I think that's the way I've coped all these years by clinging unto that little satisfaction that comes from skating. It feels so free, like... Like dancing. Another reason why I'm still in the team is because I'm an excellent skater, the best on the team.

The pictures end, Timmy gives me a nod of acknowledgement and goes up to seat on the bleachers. Coach tells us to skate around for a while, running after each other with the puck and then then we practice scoring, or for Quincy, not letting a score in and after that we are shared into teams to play against to play against. Might not be what I want but it's not the worse thing a teenage boy can find himself in... Right?

After the game, I'm a bit drained and I get scolded a bit by the coach that does nothing to improve my mood but Timmy's still up the bleachers so I make my way over to him.

"Hey," I greet, getting rid of my gloves and helmet. The only things I can easily remove from my body.

"That wasn't too bad," he says, looking at me with understanding eyes. Timmy gets it.

I nod, "yeah, whatever." I know he knows I don't want to talk about it and with a loud sigh he drops it. We stay silent and my eyes move from where Quincy is squabbling with Warren, Abel's making out with Felicia like they haven't kissed in months or like the game was very serious and lasted a year to end and Kenny, hands on his hip as he talks with a group of girls, laughing his gelled black hair with green highlights off and then Nadia with her eyes narrowed on Timmy with extreme, slightly scary concentration. I startle at that, blinking at her.

"Um- i-is it just me or is Nadia Ritchie glaring daggers at me?" Timmy asks, unconsciously scooting closer to me.

I put my arms around him, my eyes on Nadia and she immediately snaps her eyes to me. "It's not just you."

"I'm freaked out."

I sigh, looking away from her to him and making him look at me with a finger on his chin. "Don't mind her. She met me today and she insists our relationship is bullshit and is convinced she can find out what we're up to."

One would think Timmy can't get anymore freaked out but he would prove your thoughts wrong. "What? Well, it is bullshit."

"Hush," I whisper, looking around. No one is close enough to hear us. "She doesn't know that and neither does anybody else, except us."

"But she could find out, honestly we're not that good at this," Timmy confesses, unable to meet my eyes. I wasn't expecting that.

"What?"

"Well," his hand reaches out to fix his glasses that this one time didn't need fixing. "You know how I practically work and spend all my time at the school's gossip center and Billy has ears everywhere and—"

"Timmy," I gingerly call, edging him to get to the point.

"People are second-guessing this," he gestures between us, meeting my eyes for a second. "I don't think we're believable enough. And that not our fault," he rushes out. "I guess we're just too much of best friends."

"Too much of best friends?" I repeat, understanding him and still not understanding him.

"Yeah," Now he looks at me and his eyes look sad. "Our dynamic, we're best friends Curt, not lovers and even pretends and acting don't change it."

I don't know if it's way his eyes is looking at me or this words but for some reason, my heart aches. I don't say anything and Timmy nods to himself, getting up to leave but my hand hold his and I pull his and I drag him back to the seat, he sits down back with a gasps and wide eyes.

"Okay," I breathe out. "Maybe so but Timmy, there's nothing we can't change."

"Curt—"

I don't know I want to do or what my mind is pushing me to do. I guess I want to kiss Timmy, send a message, do something drastic that I'm certain best friends don't do but when I move closer to Timmy to kiss him, something stops me. It could be the loud pounding of my heart in my chest to the extent that it hurt and I could hear it in my ears or the way Timmy looks at me, face completely red and eyes anticipating like he had an idea of what I want to do but it's not the good kind of anticipation, it's a kind that has dread written all over it— fear.

I go so close to his lips, feeling his breath on my face with barely an inch separately but I can't do it.

"Get a room!" Quincy yells and Timmy startles away from me. I close my eyes willing myself to breathe because it seemed somewhere along the way, I stopped. I can hear their teasing laughter and when I open my eyes, Nadia's gone and Timmy's eyes is still on me, a bit shocked.

Determined, I don't look away from him as I whisper, "nothing."

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Shit, my poor heart, I really thought they were going to kiss. Damn it.

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