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Out in the Field (Out in College 4)

Page 59

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I pulled in front of the Arts Center and honked once before hopping out of the car to help Phoenix with his bag. He was busy chatting with a few castmates and some fans who’d lingered at the back door to congratulate the actors, but he nodded in acknowledgment and said a round of good-byes before joining me. Any other day, I’d give him space to soak up the adulation, but we had a houseful of friends and family waiting for us. The last thing I needed was another call from my mother asking where we were.

I put his bag in the trunk and leaned against the car to wait for him.

“Hey, Billy. Can I get your autograph?”

Phoenix grinned. “Sure thing. And where would you like it?”

“On my dick,” I replied, pulling him against me. “Did I tell you I’m proud of you? You were unbelievable. I told everyone sitting around me, ‘That’s my boyfriend. I get to sleep with that guy.’ ”

He snickered. “Gee, I thought your parents were sitting next to you.”

“They were. My mom smacked me upside the head, but the guy behind me laughed. Speaking of my mom, we better go. I think there are close to a hundred people at the house,” I said, holding the passenger door open.

“One hundred? I don’t know one hundred people.”

I made a funny face, then skirted the car and slid behind the wheel. “You know how she is, baby. She invited everyone. I think my whole team will be there, including Coach Glenn and his wife. And Christian and Rory and…”

He let me ramble on, listing names and all the food my mom made, as I drove through the main section of town into my parents’ residential neighborhood. When we reached their street, he entwined his fingers with mine and squeezed.

“Do you think your parents want to adopt me?”

“No, I think they want you to marry me,” I said, only half kidding.

My parents loved Phoenix. He was an anomaly. He wasn’t like anyone in our family. They didn’t know theater people or gay men who wore eyeliner and liked to help in the kitchen. He didn’t understand sports, but he could talk about food with my mom and talk about old movies with my dad. I think they liked that he was respectful and always kind, but more importantly, they knew he loved me. And anyone could tell I was crazy about him.

We were good together. We pushed each other outside of our comfort zones and into whole new worlds. I went to plays that interested him and watched “classic” movies…and yes, quite a few had something to do with Shakespeare. I guess I became a theater geek and Phoenix was a baseball freak in training. My teammates fully embraced him. No questions. There were a few rocky moments in the locker room when some asshole threw around a homo joke “for fun,” but no one messed with Phoenix. They knew better.

After I came out, Phoenix became a regular at my games. He sat with my parents or Christian and Rory. Sometimes Sunny came with him or his friend, Braden, who I think had a major crush on Sky. Though as far as I knew, Sky still hadn’t come out. I didn’t ask. It wasn’t my business. Sky was my teammate only. We were never going to be friends. We focused on winning games. And thankfully, we won enough to qualify for the championship round. We didn’t win, but we improved as a team. Personally, I thought we were poised to do amazing things next year.

Phoenix and I would both be fifth-year seniors. We had a whole year to figure out what we wanted to do when we graduated. We had ideas, but the only thing we knew for certain was that we’d be together.

“Your parents know I’m moving in with you in two weeks, right?”

“You already did move in with me,” I reminded him, lifting our joined hands to my lips and then releasing him to pull into a parking space a block away.

“I know. But it’s not official until Sunny’s new roommate arrives.”

I rolled my eyes. “If you say so. Are you nervous about the party or something?”

“A little. One hundred guests?” he asked, widening his eyes comically.

I knew he was kidding. The guy who fearlessly performed in front of an audience of a few hundred people could effortlessly work the crowd at a party celebrating his “triumphant return to the stage.” His words, not mine, though I totally agreed.

“Mmhm. Like a wedding. Maybe she’s practicing to host ours,” I teased, tickling his side. “Come on. Don’t be scared. I’ll be with you.”

“Hey Max?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

We met on the sidewalk and walked hand in hand up the block to my parents’ house. The weight of his palm against mine and the brush of his shoulder made my heart skip a beat. We shared a smile that made me hope I’d never forget how amazing moments like this felt. It was good to be reminded that personal truth was the ultimate form of freedom. And I was grateful to live my truth with the man I loved.



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