The Exchange Day

11. THE THIRD EXCHANGE

"Just give me anything," he said, desperately wanting to end it as soon as possible and go someplace with peaceful silence.

"Anything?" Caleb asked as he munched on another chip.

"Yeah. Whatever, you currently have. Anything will do." Just don't talk anymore, Sam wanted to add but refrained himself because that would be… rude.

Caleb called a club member and asked him to bring a particular bag and gave it to Sam.

"Why do you have flour with you?" Sam asked, accepting the white bag which nearly weighed about half a pound.

"It's a substitute for paint. Works just fine, really. We had some extra. Actually, we had to paint the booth walls and when we went to the shop, I found out that white paint costs more than my life. No way I am buying that shit for 100 dollars oof-"

Caleb's body jerked ahead as Zayn slammed into him, slinging an arm around his neck and pulling the boy closer, "And so we bought refined flour. It was my idea. It was cheaper and worked the same." Zayn finished where Caleb left off.

"Hi, Sam!" He greeted him with a smile that had a knowing meaning to it or maybe, Sam was imagining it. He was Noah's best friend and had sometimes volunteered to talk to Sam whenever he was with Noah.

"Hey," Sam gave a thin-lipped smile.

Zayn, as Sam knew, was tall, handsome and pretty charming. Well, everyone from the swimming club was the same. Not as much as a certain boy though.

Maybe Zayn was the one.

Caleb nudged the newly arrived boy in the ribs, "You took your sweet time to come here."

He frowned as he looked up at the swimmer, his eyes softening, "I was waiting, you know. Can't you take some time off for me, babe?"

Huh? Babe?

"Sorry," Zayn apologized and leaned down. Caleb tiptoed, nuzzling his boyfriend and kissed Zayn on the lips.

Now that Sam remembered correctly, from all the swimming club members, Caleb was always next to this particular guy. Now it made sense.

Okay, so Zayn was not the fated one, too.

Too bad, he was a cool guy. Zayn was an openly pansexual, something that Sam was so envious of. He wanted to be like him, free, but being out also meant exposing yourself to all kinds of judgments about your sexuality, positive and negative. And Sam was not really up for it.

Only his parents knew. He was fine with it and they were fine with it. There was no need for the whole world to know. Maybe someday but not now.

"So, are you coming to the kissing booth, Sam?" Zayn asked, surprising Sam at the sudden attention. He looked like he was expecting a positive answer as his eyes sparked and Sam found that odd. The last time he checked, they never actively talked with each other.

"No, I have something else to do," he shrugged.

"Please try to," Zayn urged. "I mean you can at least look around

Sam just gave a thin-lipped smile. "I really can't say for sure." He knew he wouldn't go. He shouldn't risk running into the very thing he was trying to avoid, right?