I head to homeroom with the thought still bothering me. I don't know. I may get caught. Plus Gray wants nothing to do with me. He's pissed off. I think it's over. He thinks I want to keep him a secret. As if I have a choice! If I could, I'd proudly walk hand in hand with him ...but I can't. Neither can he. We're trapped in a role of torment.

This may be a good thing. A sign. A push in the right direction. Homeroom is full of face painters too. I can't avoid it. Today will be difficult. I want number 7 on my arm. That'll be a great way to apologize. I'm still conflicted.

I sit on a window bench and unload my protein shake and notebook. I memorize information for a quiz later.

In my concentration...my mind swirls.

For once in my life, I want to break free. The number 7 would be a battle cry...and an apology. Grayson thinks he's a guilty pleasure. Thinks I'm hiding him...when the truth is that I'm conflicted. I didn't mean to hurt him. This isn't simple. Nothing in my life is simple.

My parents have scripted my entire future. Every choice, every expectation is theirs. I can't confide in my brothers; their loyalty to our parents is unshakeable. The mere thought of them knowing my truth has my skin crawling. Kim's face would twist in disgust, a dagger to my heart. Cindy's mom planning marriage, while she's wanting a set future with me.

It's all a future I never asked for, a mold I refuse to fit into.

But...today can be different. The choice of painting the number on would be the greatest freedom I've ever had. It's not just about ink; it's a declaration of my secret identity. The air thickens with anticipation as I make my way to get my arm done.

I stare at it the whole time the teacher marks the 7 on in red. "You must be apart of the bet? I heard it's $100. You must have high hope in number 7." Ms. G, an old woman in a color splattered apron, states wisely.

"It's a lucky number." I conclude.

"It is. It symbolizes good fortune, significance, transformation and relationships. All moving parts that make life worth while. You may win the jackpot."

"I hope so." I cross my fingers, not for the money but for luck. Please, god...or the universe, give me luck again. Make Grayson forgive me.

I take a deep breath,

Her hands prepare the bristled brush. A rush of triumph surge my spine. Ms. G dips the brush into the red color. The bristles glide over my skin in smooth strokes. Each one is a step toward a silent liberation.

The outside stadium is full capacity. The metal bleachers overflow to the point that majority of the crowd stands. The crisp autumn air livens with possibility. Leaves flutter in vibrant hues of orange and gold, creating a picturesque backdrop for the biggest event of the season. Students are draped in school colors, painted with numbers like me.

I settle on the 8th bleacher, standing because there's no room.

"Hey, Harrison, what's your bet?" A guy asks. Word has spread that I've joined in.

Hmm...should I say $100...or should I up it to seem like I'm actually invested? That would be a great cover up for why I really have Grayson's number. "$500 that Mater Dei are losers."

He and his friends clap it up for me. "Hell yeah!"

"Alright quiet boy, we see you!"

"Let's gooooo!!!!" A guy with a half colored chest bellows. I pump my fist as a way to participate in the hype.

I know the money is fine. To my parents, it's a trivial sum, a few coins, they wouldn't even blink. Plus they'll write it off as school spirit...and something to gloat about with neighbors.

Harvard Westlake vs. Mater Dei

1ST QUARTER

The kickoff reverberates the stadium. The chilly wind is static. It's so loud that I can barely hear my own thoughts.

Grayson is a commanding presence on the field. As he takes the snap, the crowd holds its breath. He scans his perimeter, his blue eyes sharp. The opposing team rushes him, but he sidesteps them all with remarkable agility. The stadium erupts in cheers as he launches the ball ahead.

"Go, Grayson!" Our side of the audience chants, waving the school logo, a veritas shield. The other side is crickets. They're losing already. Our receiver catches the ball flawlessly, the stands are a frenzy.

2ND QUARTER

Mater Dei adjusts, answering back with a powerful drive led by their quarterback. They score a touchdown, tying the game at 7-7.

Whoa...that's freaky!!! That number can't be a coincidence!

Both sides exchange quick possessions. Grayson rallies his team, passing precise throws and executing plays with finesse, but Mater Dei's defense steps up, ending the half at 16-14.

The dominance is unmatched, my team shuffle the field for another touchdown, putting Harvard Westlake ahead 21-14. But Mater Dei is immediate to respond with a long pass, giving an even touchdown. The score is now 21-21.

The halftime show cheerleaders perform an intricate routine. Air flips, cartwheels, triple tosses all while shaking their Pom-poms. The pop music shake the concrete.

I spot him—Grayson—across the field taking a break on the bench, chugging down Gatorade. We lock eyes. Okay this is my chance....I can't second guess. I raise my arm, proudly revealing the large number 7.

Everything fades away, the frantic crowd...the yelling cheerleaders...even the music. Everything suffice to a muffled silence. A slight smile breaks across his face, his appreciation is felt from the distance. Gray is softer...that's a good sign. The unspoken connection is freaky...yet alluring.

Obviously we can't keep staring, he looks away same as me. The cheerleaders wrap up their circus routine.

3RD QUARTER

This one starts strong, a 10-yard run, followed by a bootleg reminiscent of Mahomes. Smith scrambles right, firing a 25-yard pass to the tight end. Facing a third-and-8, Smith evades a stampede as Aaron Rodgers would, delivering a clutch. An 18-yard sideline pass. In the red zone, Gray executes a smooth play, throwing to the receiver for a touchdown. Score 28-22.

4TH QUARTER

My crush orchestrates a 12-play, 80-yard drive, mixing in runs and quick passes, before threading a 30-yard touchdown. 35-22, the away team boos hard, but they're just jealous. We're taking home the trophy. Our side shout their lungs out, I join in with the fun. We secure the win 35-28.

The gymnasium is a festival, red and gold. The smell of pizza, popcorn and punch is inviting.  The homecoming dance is here. Cindy is by my side, all eyes seem to fall on her elegant appearance. The stunning emerald gown, inspired by the First's Lady.

I can't help but feel like a prince beside her.

We weave through the crowd. I catch glimpses of my brothers and sister. Tom is already arguing with Sam about who's going to win the next bet. Kim is chatting away with friends, her smile infectious.

Roaring cheers come from across the gym. Grayson is hoisted into the air by his teammates, tossed up and down in a frenzy of victory. His handsome face is so joyful. I should go over and congratulate him, but the crowd is thick. Although I think no one will suspect anything. Still, I should keep my distance...our eye language will out us.

I focus on Cindy. We dance to the rhythm of pop songs. I live in the moment...being a normal boy with his girl.  I push the thought about Grayson aside. My date and I grab pizza, chatting with friends and soaking in the winner atmosphere. I bump into the guys who lost the bet.

"I thought Mater Dei had us on lock!" One grumbles.

"Never go against your home, my guy." Another makes fun of him.

"Fuck you!" He shoves him. This starts a scuffle. I shield Cindy, who gasps.

The principal, a short guy with hair down his back, peddles over to break them up, waving over security. "Walk it off!!! Outside this instant!" His super deep voice is fitting for the fall season.

I wonder what he'll be for Halloween.

We continue our small talk through the crowd, more like a married couple at a social gathering than a high school dance. I peep the field from a window, Grayson and his mates run in place, in a huddle. I hear them count to 3 then fling their helmets high.

Halfway through the night, I excuse myself, slipping outside to the darkening field. Grayson's mates left, now it's just him patrolling beneath metal bleachers. The stars twinkle overhead. The night air refresh my skin and my oath.

Today isn't over yet. I still have time to create one more breakthrough. Just one day of bliss is all I'm asking for. Then tomorrow everything can go back to normal.

Grayson steps along the inner field, staring at his feet. He didn't change for the dance. Maybe he doesn't have a date? Why else is he out here along?? He should be partying.

I drift his way, trying to seem less like a stalker. But downplaying our linked souls is a waste of time. The magnetic pull wins, that inexplicable invisible force. We find ourselves closing the distance. Words are unnecessary; we communicate through eyesight. I decode a request in his gaze, an unspoken longing.

As soon as we're face to face, my breath catches. The world is a distant hum; it's just the two of us beneath the stars. Our lips brush in a hesitant kiss—soft and tentative. The lingering warmth fires me up. I cradle his jaw, drawing him closer, the softness of his skin under my fingertips.Our mouths inch deeper. His kiss is gentle...careful...he's afraid to rush it.

So am I...so I match his pace.

I cup his face, my thumb brushing his cheek as our lips move in sync, each soft press lingering a little longer. There's urgency with the tenderness, we don't have all the time in the world, we just have a few stolen seconds before reality returns. His hands slide to my waist, pulling me close.

We peer at each other through our lashes. The wonder and utter achievement is baptizing. Every heartbeat is an answered prayer. A final acceptance that we're normal. An affirmation. A precious union illuminating our path.

A door opens, allowing the music within the gym to flow out. We pull away, pretending that we're walking and talking. Although our breathlessness is relentless. I hold my breath same as him to calm down. "So...I won the bet." I begin.

"How much did you wage?"

"500."

"Shit...! What if you lost??"

I shrug. "We happen to have the best quarterback."

"Eh... Bosco and La Salle are tough. Next time, I might not be as lucky." Gray downs himself.

"I'll place the same bet..." I cross my fingers. "You got this."

"Hopefully."

The gymnasium door closes, blocking out the music. We round the corner where we have a perfect view of the exit. A few teens smoke cigarettes and gossip. We can't get touchy again...it was already risky to kiss. I lower by voice. "I'm sorry about not calling. I hope the ink is enough to sway you." I point to the yellow 7 on my arm.

"It is..." he grins. "but that might raise suspicion."

"Not really...I'll say it's good luck charm for the bet. Plus 7 brings fortune."

"Hmmm...you really thought it through?"

"Yeah...that's part of the role."

He stops in his tracks, peeping around all paranoid. "We should head back...to avoid rumors."

He's right. I wish we could kiss again. But the coast isn't clear...we can't be silly. Reluctantly, he and I return to the rowdy dance. We keep our eyes occupied elsewhere to protect what we have. Although grounds were broken tonight, I'm still as claustrophobic as before.

#Gay
#MxM
#BxB
#LGBTQ
#Wattpride