It may be hard to believe, but when I first started hooking up with Eloise, I had no idea she was my best friend’s little sister. For one, they look nothing alike, they could be strangers. They act like strangers, too. Fletcher never talks about her. The seldom times he does, he doesn’t mention her by name.
I first saw her at a football game, right at the beginning of the year. I’d only known Fletcher for a few weeks, at that point, so of course I knew very little about his family. After the game, one of the cheerleaders approached me on my way to the dressing room, blonde and gorgeous, impressively upfront. “Hey there,” she said, holding out a hand, “I’m Eloise, captain of the cheerleading squad. You’re really good.”
I know it’s wrong, my relationship with her. I’ve thought about ending it several times. I’m afraid of upsetting Eloise. I’m afraid of what she’ll do to me if I hurt her. It’s silly. For a seventeen-year-old, she’s got a lot of power over me.
“You’re supposed to like it,” my aunt used to tell me, “you’re a boy.”
At times I wonder how people would treat me if I weren’t an athlete, if I weren’t captain of the basketball team. It’s stereotypical of course, someone like me on the basketball team, but I grew up with all sorts of stereotypes. I spend a lot of time inside my head. Sometimes it’s hard not to get trapped inside there.
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