THE HEIR AND HIS TUTOR

ALEJANDRO’S POV

As I passed the school's locker room, I felt a way of nostalgia hit me as the smell of chlorine hit me, and it wasn't the good nostalgia.

It was the memories I wanted to bury forever but it kept popping up.

---

The middle school locker room had this mix of damp towels, body spray, and sweat.

My hair was still dripping from swim practice, and my head buzzed with that post-practice lightness.

The sound of boys laughing, lockers slamming, and sneakers squeaking on the wet floor echoed everywhere.

I was in as many sports as possible because my father took pride in sports.

And that was when it happened.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t something I thought about. It just… happened.

We were talking about baseball.

Me and Luis Hernandez—the kid with the fastest throw on the team, the one who always chewed gum like he didn’t give a fuck in the world.

Of course, chewing gum was prohibited, but Luiz's parents were on the school board so the principal couldn't do anything.

He did anything he wanted and no one corrected him.

He leaned against the wall, shirt half-off, towel slung around his neck, smirking at me like he always did when I made some dumb joke.

“Bro, your swing is trash,” he said, shaking his head.

“Coach is gonna bench you if you don’t fix that.”

I rolled my eyes and shoved him lightly on the shoulder.

“Shut up. My swing is perfect. You just think you’re Babe Ruth or something.”

Luis laughed, flashing those too-bright teeth.

“Nah, man. You’re just jealous.”

I don’t know what it was—the sound of his laugh, the way his eyes lit up when he looked at me, or maybe the fact that I was thirteen and full of confusing hormones.

My chest felt tight and my palms became clammy.

And before I could stop myself, I leaned forward and kissed him.

It wasn’t long. It wasn’t deep. Just a quick, clumsy press of my lips to his.

But the world stopped.

Luis froze.

His gum fell from his mouth, landing on the damp tile with a soft splat.

His eyes went wide, and for a second, I thought maybe… maybe he didn’t hate it.

Then he shoved me so hard I nearly hit the lockers.

“Dude, what the hell?” he hissed at me.

He began to wipe his mouth furiously and I began to panic.

What had I done?

"—I’m sorry,” I stammered, heat rushing to my face.

“I didn’t—”

“You didn’t what?!” His voice cracked, panic written all over him.

“You kissed me! Are you—are you some kind of freak? Fucking hell, Andy!”

My stomach dropped.

And then came the sound.

Someone was snickering behind us. Then another.

I turned, horror flooding my veins.

A group of boys stood by the showers, towels around their waists, wide-eyed and grinning like they’d just witnessed the best drama of their lives.

“No way,” one of them whispered.

“Alejandro just kissed Luis.”

Laughter erupted.

“Yo, are you gay?”

“Damn, Castillo, didn’t know you liked guys like that!”

“Locker room romance!”

"Andy is a fuckinng faggot mehn!"

The words stung worse than the shove itself.

I wanted to melt into the floor, disappear, vanish forever.

Luis pulled his shirt on quickly, glaring at me like I had ruined his entire life.

“Don’t ever come near me again. Fucking pussy.” he spat before storming out.

And the whispers followed me.

Everywhere.

---

The next day, the whole school knew.

It was in the cafeteria, in the hallways, in the bathroom stalls scrawled in Sharpie:

CASTILLO KISSES BOYS.

ALEJANDRO = GAY.

BOYS, PROTECT YOUR DICKS FROM CASTILLO.

I tried to ignore it. Tried to laugh it off. But middle school kids? They’re vultures.

Walking down the hall, someone called out,

“Hey, lover boy! Blow me a kiss!” Laughter erupted. Another shoved a pink sticky note into my locker that read, Do you like me? Yes or Yes.

As I passed, boys would make sucking sounds and blow job signs.

It was an all-boys private school so there was no escape.

By the third day, I couldn’t take it anymore.

---

That night, I sat at the dinner table, picking at my rice and beans while my father ranted about business meetings and my mother smiled politely, her hand resting on her wine glass.

My little brother Diego sat across from me, doodling something weird on a napkin.

I could barely swallow the food in my throat. My chest felt heavy, my mind racing.

If my father ever got to know I kissed a boy, I would be ruined.

He could send me to military school.

Or worse, if Diego found out...

Finally, I blurted out.

“Mamá… can I… can I change schools?”

The table went quiet.

My father looked up sharply, eyes narrowing.

“What did you just say?”

I froze, heart hammering.

“I—I just… I don’t like my school anymore. I want to transfer. It is an all-boys school and I heard that being in a mixed school helped in interaction and socialisation.”

I looked at Diego who rolled his eyes.

He was in a mixed school, which he chose, while I went with whatever dad wanted.

Dad was an alumnus and it was his dream for his sons to be Alumni too.

But with what happened now, it was not possible for me.

What would it look like if my father found out his oldest son was gay?

My mother frowned, tilting her head.

“Alejandro, sweetheart, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

I shook my head quickly.

“No, nothing. I just—I don’t fit in there. I hate it. Please, Mamá, I can’t stay there anymore.”

Diego looked up from his napkin with a smirk.

“He probably got beaten up.”

“Shut up,” I snapped, glaring at him.

My father’s voice cut through like a knife.

“Alejandro, stop acting dramatic. You’ve been at that school for years. Why suddenly now?”

“I just—” My throat closed up.

I couldn’t tell him. Not him. If he knew, if he even suspected… No. He’d never look at me the same.

I would be a disappointment in his eyes.

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I forced them back.

“Please. Just trust me. I don’t belong there.”

My mother’s gaze softened.

She always knew when I was hiding something, but she didn’t push.

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

“If it means that much to you… We’ll talk about it.”

My father muttered something under his breath about “weakness” and “spoiled children,” but I didn’t care.

For the first time all week, I could breathe.

---

A week later, I was gone.

New school. New classmates. New everything.

Far away from my old school.

The whispers didn’t follow me here. Nobody knew about the kiss. Nobody called me names.

I buried it deep, locked it away.

I told myself it was just a mistake. A moment of confusion.

So I made myself into someone else.

The charming boy who dated girls, who smiled easily, who laughed loudly. The one no one would ever question.

Because that other Alejandro? The boy who kissed Luis in a damp locker room?

He couldn’t survive here.

And I swore to myself—swore—that no one would ever see that side of me again.

---

“Ready, Casanova?” a girl’s voice yanked me back to the present.

I blinked, looking at the pretty brunette twirling her hair in the hallway.

My girlfriend of the week—what was her name again? Sofia? Camila? Didn’t matter.

She leaned against my arm, giggling.

I smiled, practised, easy, the way I’d learned to.

“Always ready, sweetheart.”

Inside, though, I could still smell chlorine.

I could still hear the laughter.

And I could still feel the sting of that first kiss—the one that ruined me and shaped me at the same time.