“Like your boyfriend,” Kordell teased, waggling his eyebrows at me.
“Stop making fun of me, brat.” I paused, dribbled. “But yeah, like him. Our situations are so different. If I was your age and realized I was bi, I don’t know that I’d handle it any different than you are. Right now, what matters is keeping you safe, both physically and mentally. The rest we can figure out later.”
“I hope you don’t get traded.”
“I hope I don’t either, but if that happens, we’ll make sure you’re always taken care of. Anson will help, Jeremy too. You got my phone number now, and if you’re ever in trouble, you can call me, day or night.”
Kordell was shaking his hands. I could tell he needed something to do with them, so I threw the ball his way. He didn’t dribble, didn’t shoot, just spun it in his hands while looking down at it. “Thanks, man. You’re…cool. It gives me hope that maybe one day I’ll be able to come out. But if not…like, I’m not alone, ya know?”
“Never alone. You’re my boy now. I got your back.”
Kordell shot, and it bounced off the rim. “Damn it!” he cursed. “It’s gonna be hard, huh? Watching your team play in the Super Bowl and not being out there with them.”
My chest tightened. My stomach twisted. “Harder than I can explain.”
We hung out for a while longer before Kordell had to go. I was close enough to jog back to the house.
Jeremy was at the center, working, and seeing his laptop on the counter when I went into the kitchen made me smile. It was a fucking dumbass thing to smile about, but I liked seeing his stuff around my house. I didn’t ever want that to change.
I washed my hands, dried them on a towel. When I sat down, I bumped his keyboard, which made the computer come to life. I wasn’t trying to invade his privacy or anything, but I couldn’t miss what showed up.
Home rentals in Atlanta.
Jeremy was planning on moving out.
There was nothing like the feeling of standing in a packed, roaring stadium. Well, that was a lie. Playing would be better, but being there, feeding off the energy of all the people, was an indescribable feeling. It made a person feel alive.
And there was nothing I wanted more than to be on the field with my team.
The Super Bowl was in Florida, one of my favorite states to play in—well, there and in Colorado.
We were playing San Francisco, which obviously was a coincidence since my boyfriend was from there. My boyfriend who was currently in the stands with West, my family, and Anson’s, wearing a jersey with my name and number, even though I wasn’t playing. My boyfriend, who was looking for a new home to move into, which I couldn’t stop thinking about since I’d seen it on his computer a few days before.
I should probably talk to him.
That’s what most functioning adults would do, but…I had a lot of shit on my mind, and the last thing I wanted to add to it was the fact that my boyfriend was moving out without telling me. I was really fucking sad about it—he didn’t even know where I’d be playing next year, yet he was looking for a house.
Which meant he planned to stay.
I understood that. He had a life. We could do the long-distance thing, but…I didn’t want to be away from him. Distance had hurt him and Bobby, and it killed me to think of that happening to us.
Why should he have to make all the sacrifices? I could retire… I could stop playing football and stay with him…
I shook those thoughts from my head, not because they weren’t valid, but because now wasn’t the time to think about it.
The crowd howled loudly at kickoff. San Francisco had won the coin toss and had chosen to receive.
From the start I could see the Lightning were off. They hardly kept San Francisco from getting into the end zone on the first fucking play of the game.
And it didn’t get better from there. We were like a rookie team on the field. The defense was trampled, and the offense had butterfingers. They did a good job protecting the quarterback, but Conners was choking. He wasn’t getting the ball off in time. He was missing open receivers. His passes were off.
By the time we were in the locker room at halftime, we were down thirty-five to seven.
“What the fuck are you doing out there?” Coach bellowed. “You sure as shit aren’t playing Lightning football! We’re a fucking embarrassment! We don’t belong in this goddamned game if that’s how we’re going to play!”
There was no heart in the locker room. No hope. Even Anson was quiet and morose. Conners had his head down in the corner as Coach continued his tirade.