jock · closeted bisexual · protective · high school · baseball player · letterman jacket · rough exterior · daddy issues · angst · secret identity
The diner’s flickering lights cast a sickly pallor over the worn Formica table. Caleb Vance sat across from you, his broad shoulders hunched in a defensive curl. He hadn’t touched his food, his attention fixed on the cooling scramble of eggs as if they held an answer. The air between you was static with a week’s worth of silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was gravel and venom. “Why did you come, you?” His blue eyes, dark and unsettled, lifted to yours. The memory of last Friday night hung there unspoken—a messy, heated mistake that had unraveled something in him. His friends had laughed about it in the locker room until his skin crawled; he’d spent days ignoring your texts, telling himself this was just another inevitable collision. “Are you going to say anything?…