The End Zone (Atlanta Lightning 2)

I told him, “You’re smiling like a damn fool, and all you’re doing is talking to him. Plus, didn’t you just see him a few hours ago?”

“I can’t help it. I love him. He makes me happy.”

I dropped my towel and pulled on my underwear. “I’m just giving you shit.”

“I know.”

My hand twitched. My brain told it not to move toward my phone, but the motherfucker didn’t listen and grabbed it anyway.

Angel: No worries. I was out anyway.

He was out? What did that mean? With that Patrick guy? Someone else?

Why do I care?

I shook my head. I didn’t. I was just going a little—or a lot—crazy because things were different between us and…that was all I got? No good morning? No have a nice day? No I remember what you sound like when you blow your load, which made me remember what Jeremy sounded like when he shot his and—

“What’s wrong?” Anson asked.

“Huh? Nothing.”

“You just groaned and banged your forehead against the locker.”

Oh, that would explain why I was leaning against it. I peeked over my shoulder at him. Anson was frowning. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m cool.”

He nodded slowly, but I was pretty sure he didn’t believe me. I grabbed my jeans and began to tug them on. It wasn’t really a lie. I was cool mostly, just confused and maybe a bit sad, but I couldn’t make sense of why.

We continued to get dressed in silence. Most everyone was filing out already. Without looking at Anson, I asked, “Got plans? Wanna hang out?”

“Sure, I can do that. West is at work. We can head back to my place.”

“Perfect.” And it was. I didn’t feel like being out. “You’re gonna feed me, though, right? Fuck, I worked up an appetite.”

“You’re always hungry, but I need to eat too. We have some shit at home.”

We walked out to our vehicles together, then met up at Anson’s house. Nerves twisted deep in my gut as if this were different from every other time I went to his house. Anson was my boy. It wasn’t as if we didn’t hang out all the time.

Not since I jerked off with his husband’s best friend on the phone…

Goddamn it. I was getting really fucking annoyed with my brain.

We headed to the backyard, and Anson put chicken breasts on the grill. I grabbed his basketball and he joined me, the two of us shooting around a bit.

“How’s work going for West?” I asked as the ball bounced off the rim, and I caught it, then tossed it to Anson to shoot.

“Good. Busy. There’s always a need, more than we can handle. It’s sad how many people are alone in the world, or need help, just because of who they love.”

His words slammed right into my chest, kicked around inside me. Jesus, that was shitty. I too had my own issues in my life because of the color of my skin. I just didn’t fucking understand it—any of it. Why people feared or hated others.

“Fuck, I’m so angry at myself over the shit I’ve said. And I despise myself for having been part of the problem. Even with you, man. I—”

“Where is all this coming from?” Anson interrupted me. “We hashed that out years ago. You’ve used some ugly language in the past, but it came from a place of ignorance, not hate. You’ve had my back from the start. You donate time and money to the center. What matters is how you behave now.”

His reply reminded me of Jeremy, of what he’d said to me and then how I’d acted after the incident. “It’s not like we touched each other…”

“Fuck,” I cursed.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I hadn’t meant something was wrong with two men touching each other, but I could see how it sounded that way. My intent didn’t matter, just my words. Did Jeremy think the idea of touching him upset me? It didn’t, not in that sense. It was more that I didn’t understand what the fuck was going on in my head.

Anson shot and made it. I jogged for the ball, then dribbled as I asked him, “You always knew?”

“Knew what?”

“That you were into dudes.” I didn’t look at him, jogging in for a layup before grabbing the ball and letting it bounce against the court again.

“Yeah, I did. I could always look at a woman and tell if she was beautiful, but while I could appreciate her looks, I wasn’t attracted to her. But when I saw a good-looking guy, I felt it, ya know? That want, or that spark, I guess I’d call it when I was younger.”

That was where I struggled—well, that and getting used to the fact that I’d jerked off with a man. I’d always known I was into women. I was attracted to them, and my body responded to them. I felt that spark, but never had with a man. It wasn’t as if I could magically wake up queer one day. It was all such a mess in my head.