Within the Lines

14.

Atticus had approached me for a change and asked me to come with him, but the car ride was as quiet as always. If Jonah had ended up reporting back to him that jocks were my type, Atticus wasn't doing much with that information. 

Maybe my imagination had been running too wild and I was wrong about this entire thing. I'd been accused of being overly imaginative before, and I always replied 'thank you.' 

Or, maybe I hadn't been using my imagination enough. There had to be something that made Atticus tick. Something that made him respond. I want to see him react like... like acrylic paint to alcohol. 

Wait, didn't Corey mention Atticus hated alcohol? Well, that was the same thing acrylic paint did. It dodged alcohol. No, I didn't want to make Atticus dodge me. But I wanted something from him. Anything. 

I must've muttered to myself by accident. Atticus side eyed me. I smiled at him, and he promptly turned his eyes back to the road. 

Okay, don't mess it up, Kade.  I'd just needed to get creative in a way he couldn't brush me off. Questions that could not be answered with one word. 

Against all better judgement, I struck up a conversation yet again. 

"I haven't been to a gym before. What do you actually recommend I do there? Like, followin' a beginners course?"

Atticus glanced at me. "You've never done any exercise?" 

"Not aside from walks, no." I paused. Here it was. An opportunity to say something... creative. "And sex." 

I got a reaction. Like paint from a brush spreading in water, a flush spread across Atticus' cheeks.  

"Just kiddin'," I added with a grin, keeping it at that. 

I'd leave Atticus to draw his own conclusions whether I was actually kidding or not. 

I was, of course. Like that'd happen. There weren't exactly many eligible gay and bisexual men at home, and I couldn't get into gay bars as a teen.  And the online apps kinda scared me so I hadn't touched those. 

I'd been just fine single so far, and some great gay fan-art was born from being single. But, honestly, a guy liking me would be a big hallelujah. At nearly eighteen years old, I'd be willing to give any guy with reasonable hygiene and a pulse a shot. 

Atticus cleared his throat. "You could try following some barbell classes first. They use low weights, but are excellent to get you prepared for heavier weights." 

He answered my question like I'd never even mentioned sex, but that in itself was already much different than before. Before, Atticus often answered in single syllables. 

"Okay, sure. I'll try a barbell class," I said. 

That meant splitting up at the gym, though. I would only get to talk to Atticus right now, in the car. I had to push trough. Dribble some more alcohol on that acrylic paint, and I had just the topic to do it. 

"I was wondering the other day: is Jonah your ex'?" I asked. 

Atticus' jaw visibly clenched. For a moment I pictures us flying off the road and land on the railing because you really should not distract or fluster the car driver. 

Nah, Atticus was fine. He was still driving and not about to get us into a crash. 

For a moment I thought Atticus wouldn't respond. But then his' Adam's apple bobbed. "No, he's a friend." 

That, I already knew. Except, now I was actually allowed to know because I hadn't received the information through illegitimate chat box snooping. 

"It's nice you have gay friends near," I babbled on. "I didn't in my hometown with little options except long distance friendships. Oh, there was one bisexual guy but we never dated. He was a pain in the ass." I snorted. "Just not that kind of pain in the ass."

My jaw nearly dropped when a chuckle escaped Atticus' lips. He frowned immediately after though, desperate to stow away all the evidence that he was capable of smiling or even knew what joy was. 

"That's tough," he said. 

I raised my shoulders. "Eh, I understand why there weren't many out people. Comin' out's not great in a conservative small town. Hey, but I was surprised to hear you were out despite livin' in the city. I mean, you struck me as a rather private person."  

Atticus let the silence linger, hesitating for a moment. "It was the right choice at the time," he then vaguely replied.  

"Why?" 

A longer silence followed. Atticus eyes darted from the left to the right, and he crossed the street, driving onto the parking lot of the gym. 

"Policy changes," he finally squeezed out. 

It really sounded like he was squeezing it out. He had word constipation. Wow, don't picture that. It's not pretty. 

Mandy told me about the zero tolerance that followed Atticus' coming out, but I decided not to mention her name. I didn't want Atticus to shut down completely. I wanted the exact opposite. 

"Right, Mrs. Nilsen told me there's a zero tolerance bullying policy now," I lied. "And that it was thanks to you. Guess things change easier if a high profile guy like a varsity jock, someone important to the school, speaks out." 

"That was the idea," Atticus murmured. 

"So, you did it out of solidarity. You literally changed the whole school for all lgbtq+ kids," I suddenly realised, out loud. 

Atticus opened and closed his mouth, and shrugged. "Friends got bullied," he muttered. 

He pretended to be busy finding a parking spot. I say pretend because he passed at least ten perfectly fine, eligable spots closer to the entrance just to keep driving. 

With friends, was he referring to Jonah? That was an odd idea, outgoing Jonah as a bullying victim. But I shouldn't say that too loudly. I got picked on for it, too, from time to time. 

"I think that's amazin' though. That you took that risk as a varsity jock for your friends, and for any future lgbtq+ kids attending Pinewood. You're like a hero in my books."

Atticus's face contorted for a split second, a face-wince, then he just raised his shoulders again. 

"It's really not all that," he deflected shyly, his cheeks bright red. Then, he reached for the car door and got out of the car.

I followed Atticus' example, and he locked the doors the moment I was out. I nearly had to jog to keep up with his pace as he made for the entrance of the gym. 

We were no longer in the car, so conversation-time was over. Yet, I couldn't resist complimenting him one last time.

"But it is all that," I insisted. You're going around savin' lgbtq+ kids left left and right, now that I think about it. You even saved me from some nasty bone fractures during the tryouts."

Atticus was so red I thought I might see him turn purple at this point. He took compliments so terribly badly, and it was kind of adorable. 

Getting creative and experimental with my methods paid out. I had discovered two new character trait to add to the list of things I knew about Atticus. Atticus was anxious, adorably bad at accepting compliments, and incredibly loyal to his friends. 

He was not what I expected him to be at all. More than ever, I wanted, needed to know whether he liked me. Finding that out, however, would probably require an even more risky and creative plan.