Ripped - 13. PART 3-- Chapter 13

—Declan—

"What do you want, Declan?" Bailey had demanded.

Declan tried to think of what he could say to Bailey after all the selfish things he'd said, thought, and imagined after their first 'meeting' in the weight room. 'I'm sorry' didn't seem like the right thing, so he ended up standing there staring at Bailey instead.

Apparently, Bailey didn't think Declan was worth his time, as he yanked off the sweatbands from his wrists with a shake of his head and swiped up the leather things from the floor. Bailey stalked over to a bag near the wall and shoved the chalky items into it.

Declan couldn't help but admire the other teen's lean form. Hell, he'd been thinking about Bailey all fucking weekend, but he hadn't even realized just how gorgeous the guy really was. And now he really felt like an asshole, perving on the guy he let Chris single out for torment.

"What do you want?" Bailey asked again as he sighed heavily. "I already let Chris drag a video a 'confession' out of me so he'd leave me alone. What more do you guys want?"

That jerked Declan from his ogling. "What? No! I'm not here for anything like that!"

"Oh, really? What are you here for then?" Bailey's voice barely reined in his sarcasm. "To watch me 'dance around' the gym? Would you find that amusing?"

Declan visibly winced as Bailey threw back the words Declan had said so callously at the track. Either Justin had told Bailey what he'd said, or Bailey had still been around and heard him. Yeah, he'd been pissed that morning, and he'd said things he shouldn't have. Hell, he knew better than to judge someone like that, didn't he? His parents would kick his ass for thinking the way he had lately.

He'd let himself get too isolated with the team, letting Chris's machismo dogma seep into his brain. Even though he had never before voiced it out loud, especially around his roommate and suitemates, he had been letting himself be sucked into to Chris's elitist attitude since this semester began a couple months ago.

Damn, it was no wonder Logan, Micah, and Evan were pissed with him.

Declan rubbed his face. This was so not going the way he'd thought it would. "God, Bailey, you know, I don't think that."

Bailey's sharp eyes snapped up to him, his arms crossing across his solid chest. "Really? So you don't think we just flip and dance around here? Declan, you're full of shit, you know that? I heard you on the track that morning."

Declan was sure his face turned bright red. "I didn't mean that. I was just pissed."

"Why? Because of the pushup thing?" Bailey challenged.

Declan dropped his head back as he sighed. "Yes, damn it," he admitted reluctantly. "I was angry as hell that you beat me. Everyone was teasing, calling us 'girls' for being beaten in a pushup contest. And then you were outrunning me on the track that morning, like you were just trying to show me up again."

Bailey blinked in surprise. "What? I wasn't trying to do anything like that. I just thought you might want to run together, but then you took off..." Bailey's posture softened. "I'm sorry you're getting harassed about that stupid contest. I didn't want that. I wouldn't want that. Not for anyone."

"Chris chewed my ass out about it. We're supposed to be the best, said I'd disgraced the whole team by losing to a—" Declan wisely snapped his mouth shut.

But Bailey cocked his head, narrowing his eyes. "A what?"

"Flyboy wimp," Declan muttered out. Of course, that wasn't as bad as what Declan had called him.

Bailey actually chuckled as he walked towards the door, surprising Declan. "Flyboy. I like that actually. But wimp? Just shows how big a sports bigot you actually are. Funny, I hadn't thought you were like that before, just from seeing you around classes and all."

Declan's jaw dropped. Sports bigot? What the hell? Had Bailey really just called him a bigot?

The click of the door closing snapped him out of his shock enough to chase Bailey out into the hallway.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" Declan demanded to Bailey's back.

Apparently, his tone didn't faze Bailey at all. He just looked calmly over his shoulder. "You know, a sports bigot."

"What the hell is that?"

Bailey stopped, putting his hands on his hips, as if having to suffer explaining things to a toddler. "You know what a bigot is, right?"

Declan just glared back, his own arms crossed defensively over his broad chest as he stared down at the smaller teen.

"Then it should be easy to understand," Bailey waved. "You sports bigots are intolerant of any sport that you don't consider to be manly enough. Bet Chris thinks the track, golf, and swim guys are wimps too."

Declan felt like he'd been slapped, or maybe jolted with a zap of electricity. Fuck. He was a sports bigot. He had thought those things about not only gymnastics but some of the other sports as well. He'd never admitted it out loud, especially around his roommate and suitemates, but hell if those thoughts hadn't been floating in the back of his head.

But he wasn't an egotistical dick about it like Chris was either, at least not usually. Not until he'd let Chris get under his skin that day, ripping open his pride and throwing salt in the wound.

"I'm nothing like Chris or Eric, not usually anyway. Neither are most of the guys." Declan called out to Bailey's back as he headed towards the locker room. Bailey didn't stop, but he did slow just enough for Declan to catch up—which meant he was willing to listen. Declan felt the need to defend those on the team who really were great guys. It was just a few who made the rest of them look bad. And unfortunately, Declan knew he was currently one of those. "But a lot of the team, the younger ones especially, really look up to Chris as the captain. He has a certain charisma that really hypes them up for games, makes us feel unbeatable."

"Sounds like you need a new team captain."

Declan froze at the flippant comment as he watched Bailey stepped over to the water fountain outside the locker room and take a long drink. Declan had actually had that same thought just this weekend—that maybe Lachlan would make a better starting quarterback...

Bailey turned, wiping his arm across his mouth, and Declan couldn't help staring.

"I may be new here this year, but Justin—well, everyone—warned me about Chris. And, look, honestly, I don't give a shit what Chris, you, or anyone else thinks of me as long as it doesn't affect my schoolwork or my gymnastics. I've got more important things to deal with than Chris's ego."

"That's why you did the video he wanted," Declan surmised.

Bailey just nodded.

"But you let him win."

"Yeah, well, so did you."

Declan gaped at him. "What?"

Bailey just smiled. "Look, sometimes it's easier not to fight it, to just let it go, not disturb the status quo—you know, 'chalk it up'..." He rubbed his white, chalky hands together for emphasis, "...as done and over. Trust me, I know."

Declan's gut started to churn, knowing Bailey was right. It was easier just to let things slide, rather than stand up against stronger people. But then, he'd always considered himself one of those strong people. Why the hell was he backing down to Chris and Eric?

"You shouldn't have to let Chris call you a cheater just to appease him. He's told everyone. You'll never have peace," Declan added.

Strangely, Bailey's eyes flicked away from him, blinking several times before staring at the floor. "I'll never have that anyway."

Declan frowned at the cryptic comment.

"Just go. You got your reputation back. You're a hero to your team now. Let Chris show his stupid video to everyone. I don't care."

The question is: do I? Declan pondered as Bailey pulled open the locker room door.

"Chris deleted the video," Declan blurted out. For some reason, he thought Bailey deserved to know that Chris wasn't showing it around to anyone anymore. "Just so you know. He made Eric do it too. So there is no copy of it anymore. I think he knew if too many people actually looked at it hard, they'd know it was a fake."

Bailey just shrugged. "Probably smart on his part. No evidence other than my word against his. Again, just another reason to just let it all go."

Declan watched Bailey's slight form started to slip through the door to Locker Room B. "Hey!" he called impulsively.

Bailey paused, holding the door open, the noise beyond nearly drowning out his voice. "Yeah?"

Declan glanced at the floor, uncertain for a moment. "Do you think, uh, maybe we could talk again? Later maybe?"

Bailey cocked a brow in surprise, his mouth dropping open. "About?"

Declan shrugged. "Trigonometry?"

Bailey barked out a laugh. "Trig? Really?"

Declan let out a small smile of hope. "Or maybe you can tell me what you were talking about when you said you'd been a cornerback?"

"Football, huh?" Bailey pursed his lips, obviously considering Declan's motives. He finally huffed out a sigh. "Fine."

When Bailey started to turn into the locker room again, Declan panicked. "Wait. When?"

"What do you mean, 'when'?"

"I mean, when do you want to hang out?" Declan pressed. He was sure if he didn't pin Bailey down to a time now, he'd never catch up with him.

Bailey appeared uncertain before he tucked his bag under his arm and held out his hand. "You have a phone?"

"Yeah." Declan pulled it out and handed it over to Bailey.

Bailey punched in some numbers. "There. You have my number. We can figure it out later when I'm less sweaty... and chalky." He smiled, holding up his white powdered hands. Declan felt his breath catch, realizing he hadn't ever seen Bailey smile before. It was beautiful.

Bailey slapped the phone back into Declan's hand, but Declan swiped open the camera and snapped a picture of Bailey before he could disappear. When Bailey frowned at him, Declan gestured with the phone. "To put a picture with your contact info."

Bailey's features softened as he rolled his eyes, another small smile lighting up his face, making his ethereally silver eyes shine. "Goodbye, Declan."

"See ya." He waved, feeling better than he had in almost a week. He glanced down at his phone as Bailey turned to finally enter the locker room, swiping at the trace of white chalk on the screen.

"Yo, Bailey, what took you so long?" a familiar voice echoed over the boisterousness of the locker room filtering out into the hall.

Declan glanced up to see Justin and Mateo sliding past Bailey as he held open the door.

"Just stretching. Having a little talk," Bailey said evasively as he disappeared.

Declan nearly cringed as the two gymnasts turned to glare at him. Mateo glanced down at the phone Declan had in his hand.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing, we were just talking. He gave me his number is all." Declan shrugged and started to turn away, not interested in another fight with Justin.

"Woah, wait a minute!"

A hand tugged on his bicep, turning him around.

"Bailey gave you his number?" Justin seemed shocked.

"Yeah, why?"

Mateo and Justin exchanged glances before Justin stepped closer. "Look, I don't know what you two talked about, but you need to know that Bailey's not someone who trusts a lot of people. He barely talks to us. So if he gave you his number, he's given you a huge amount of faith. Don't screw it up, if you know what I mean."

Declan stared at the two teens, wondering if they were messing with him. It was just a phone number. A way to contact each other.

But then it dawned on him that Justin and Mateo expected the worst of him. Probably thinking he'd run off and hand over Bailey's number to Chris or Eric who would do who-knows-what with it.

Declan's fingers tightened around his phone protectively. "Yeah. Yeah, I know what you mean. Don't worry."

Declan waited while Justin and Mateo stared him down—Justin seemed to be processing, but Mateo radiated suspicion. They finally nodded, reluctantly satisfied with his response for now, before they walked off. Declan hurried off before he could be accosted by any more of the gym team as they came out of the locker room. As he rounded the corner, he paused to type out a quick text to Bailey, ensuring that Bailey would have his number. Hopefully the younger boy would not back out of meeting up.

Once he finished, Declan grinned as he headed toward the dining hall. He had Bailey's number. And his picture.

That simple information shouldn't make him so giddy. He cleared his throat as he headed through the Colonnades, trying to tamp down his exuberance. He couldn't walk into the dining hall grinning like an idiot; Evan would harass him until he told, and Declan had no intention of talking about his interest in Bailey in the middle of the dining hall—assuming Evan would meet him there.

He paused as he reached the Colonnades when his phone vibrated. He had a momentary surge of hope that it was Bailey texting him back already, but it was just Alex asking him if he wanted to study later tonight. Apparently, Ben, Jaime and he were getting together and wanted to know if he wanted to join them. While he didn't feel he needed the extra study time, he accepted anyway.

Before continuing on to the dining hall, Declan figured he should check that Evan was actually going to the dining hall. He clicked on the group text message for Evan, Logan, and Micah.

😧 <Hey guys, what's the plan?>

E: <heading towards dining hall now>

M: <just finished in computer lab, heading over>

L: <I'm beat. I'll eat later>

E: <you meeting us there, Dec?>

😧 <yeah, be there in a min>

Declan shoved off the column and turned toward the Rotunda. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned back to the front lawns and gate. A hunched figure buried in a hoodie and sweats trudged across the lawn, lugging a backpack and duffle bag.

Bailey.

Declan's heart rate spiked, and instead of heading into the building, he impulsively started at a jog across the lawn.

"Hey, Bailey!" he called out as he got closer.

Bailey jerked, obviously startled, but his shoulders relaxed slightly when he'd realized it was Declan and he paused. Declan felt a small swell of victory that Bailey hadn't ignored him and rushed on.

"Hey," Declan said lamely, "guess you're, what, heading home?"

"Yeah."

Those silvery eyes barely peeked up at him, and Declan could see him gripping his phone. "Did ya get my text?"

Bailey nodded, and Declan felt himself frowning slightly. If he'd seen it, why hadn't he responded?

"Oh, okay." He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling awkward.

"I just... I'm in a bit of a hurry," Bailey explained, starting to walk again toward the guard gate. At first, Declan thought Bailey was just making excuses to get away from him, but Bailey continued talking over his shoulder. "My mom texted and wants to take me to get my hair cut." He shoved at a lock of hair falling over his eyes. "It needs to be done before the meet Saturday."

Declan brightened a little. "Oh, cool." He hurried to catch up the few steps between them. "Can I... can I walk with you a little? You know, just to say I'm sorry again."

Declan was sure his face was flaming. That sounded so lame. But Bailey just quirked a brow at him and shrugged. "I guess, but you've already apologized. We're good."

Declan fell into step with Bailey as they fished out their IDs for the guard to scan them as leaving campus. "I know. I'm... " he fished for something to say, "I'm just bored, could use a little walk."

Bailey hitched his backpack a little more up onto his shoulder. "Couldn't wait until tomorrow to talk football?"

Declan smiled at the teasing lilt in Bailey's tone. "Yeah, well, this sports bigot needs some educating," he joked.

Bailey grimaced. "Sorry I said that. It was probably a little harsh."

"No, no, it was actually a bit of a wake-up call. I've been having an enlightening few days lately."

They headed towards Heritage Square, Bailey shifting his duffle bag. Declan felt like an ass not offering to carry one of Bailey's bags—would that be weird, offering to carry another guy's stuff? A little like offering to carry a girl's books for her?

Fuck it, Declan thought, as he stepped closer and reached for Bailey's duffle bag. "Here let me help—"

"No!" Bailey jerked away from him.

Declan's hand had brushed against Bailey's when he made to grab the bag, their shoulders grazing as well before Bailey practically jumped away from him. Declan stared at him in shock. He hadn't expected such a dramatic reaction.

Bailey's grip tightened on the handles as he ran his other hand over his face, rubbing at his mouth. "I'm—I'm sorry. I j-just don't like being surprised. Or touched for that matter."

Declan couldn't read Bailey's expression: fear, maybe? Sadness? "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"No, it's not you. I don't usually over-react like that. I've managed to... control it. Just... you surprised me, I didn't expect... and then I thought... and you're so..."

Declan couldn't understand all of what Bailey was saying, his words falling out in a babbling mess. He wondered if Chris and Eric's little stunt had traumatized Bailey more than he'd let on that night.

"Well, anyway, sorry about that," Bailey finished in a final rush of breath.

"Hey, no problem. I'm sure that thing with Chris... you know... didn't help..." Declan offered sympathetically.

Bailey's eyes darted to the side. "Yeah."

"Hey, tomorrow why don't we plan to meet up at the deli over there?" Declan said quickly to help clear away the cloud descending over their conversation.

"Uh, sure, why not?" Bailey agreed, as they reached the far side of the Square. "Assuming my practice lets out at normal time."

"Why wouldn't it?"

"Oh, Coach Richards was being all cryptic and stuff about practice tomorrow." Bailey stopped and turned, facing Declan. "Did your coach say anything? Richards said him and Coach Reed had gotten together to talk about it. Sounded like they had something planned."

Declan shook his head, surprised. "No, Coach didn't say anything to us."

Bailey just shrugged. "Hmmm."

"You don't think they'd make us practice together, do you?" Declan wondered absently, glancing over Bailey's shoulder. Declan knew from following Bailey home that one night that he'd have to turn to head up the next street.

Bailey shook his head. "Nah, we have a meet this weekend. And what would be the point in that anyway? We do totally different—"

A buzzing from Declan's pocket cut him off. Declan yanked out his phone to see a text message from Evan.

E: <Where the hell are you!>

"Oh shit," Declan chuckled, realizing he'd totally forgotten his roommate in his effort to chase down Bailey.

Bailey cocked his head. "Everything okay?"

"Oh, um, yeah. Just my roommate wondering where I am. We'd talked about meeting for dinner in the dining hall."

"Ahh, well, you should head back then. I'm just up this way anyway." Bailey pointed up the hill. "I'll, uh, see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Declan stepped back awkwardly, almost tripping over the uneven bricks in the walkway. "Have a good night."

"Yeah. You too."

For a second, Declan thought Bailey was going to offer his hand in a handshake, but he just lifted it in a wave. Declan smiled and waved back, enjoying the way Bailey ducked his head bashfully before darting away.

"Well, that could have gone worse," he mused. "Could have gone better, too."

He turned back toward Heritage Academy, texting Evan back.

😧 <Sorry. Went for a walk.>

E: <A walk? WTF>

😧 <needed to clear my head for a min>

E: <did ya get it out of your ass yet?>

Declan's snort of laughter in the middle of the Square earned him a few odd looks, but he grinned madly with contentment as he texted back.

😧 <Yeah. I think I finally did.>

****

—Bailey—

Why did I give him my number? Bailey thunked his head against the side of the shower stall, berating himself for his moment of weakness. Because you're a glutton for punishment, that's why, he told himself.

Bailey let the cool water run over his heated body, rinsing away the fine hairs that seemed to be everywhere after his haircut. He was still reeling from what he'd done. What was he thinking, giving Declan his phone number? Hell, letting him walk with him across the Square? He'd been sure at first that Declan's offer to hang out and talk was simply part of an apologetic gesture. The huge football player couldn't really want to meet up with him. He'd always hung out with his own crew. But then, during their walk, he had looked rather... bashful? Awkward? Hell, they both had been.

Bailey felt his body starting to shiver, and he wasn't sure it was just the cooling water. The idea of meeting with Declan tomorrow—to eat dinner together—both intrigued and terrified him. Sure, the guy was hot, but he was also a huge football player. Was Declan like Chris? Was he like the guys on the Pitbulls, his old high school team, who had slandered, harassed, and driven him from the team because he was gay. Like Mason...

Declan had seemed nice today, really apologetic and sincere. Bailey wanted to believe Declan was the guy he'd thought he was, but those words he'd spouted that morning on the track were hard to forget.

Bailey huffed in frustration at his thoughts. There was no way of figuring any of that out right now, and he had a test to study for in history.

He didn't have time to let thoughts of Declan and what ulterior motives he might have crowd his mind. Bailey quickly dried off and threw on a pair of pajama pants. He dropped his backpack on his desk chair, opening it to pull out his history notebook when he saw the notification light blinking on his phone from the edge of the desk.

He thumbed open his messages to see another message from the same number as earlier—the one Declan had sent while Bailey had been in the locker room.

😧 <thanks for talking to me. I'll see you tomorrow at the deli. Declan>

B: <Thanks for walking with me. The company was nice.>

He'd hit send before he thought about how stupid that sounded. God, Declan was going to think he was an idiot.

😧 <I thought so too ;)>

He couldn't help but feel a moment of lightness, something he hadn't felt for a long while. He felt a giggle bubble up out of his throat, which morphed into a full out laugh. He wasn't even sure what was so funny, except that it felt good to let go.

"You okay, honey?" His mom poked her head in from the door.

"Yeah." He settled down, glancing at his phone with a small smile. "Yeah, just a text from a friend I walked home with."

Her eyebrows hitched up nearly into her hairline. "A friend? You've never talked about walking home with someone."

He shrugged. "He just sort of caught up with me and, well, we talked a little and... you know."

Her lips pursed, but a small smile quirked the corner. "Just make sure your 'friend' doesn't cause distractions."

"It's not—" Bailey bit his lip. "He just wants to hang out a little bit. Talk, you know."

She nodded as she headed on down the hall.

Bailey turned back to his desk, settling in with his notes. Even with the Wall of a Champion looming nearby and the stress of doing well on his next test, he didn't have the urge to reach for it.

He stared at Declan's text messages.

For once, he didn't have the urge to rub at the semi-healing scars on his hip to distract him from the aching loneliness and loss that had left a hole in his chest.