The End Zone (Atlanta Lightning 2)

“Oh my God. That’s great.” Jeremy scrambled up.

I was sitting on the edge of the bed, turned away from him, when I said, “It might not be what we’re hoping for.” Just seconds ago I’d felt it in my bones that it was, but now doubt was creeping in. Fuck if I didn’t hate this feeling-vulnerable stuff.

“Hey, it’ll be good, I know it. And, Darren…if you want to play, you really need to play. I don’t want this to come between us.” Jeremy moved over, wrapped his legs around me, then his arms, kissing the back of my neck.

I rubbed his bare shin. “I want to play in Atlanta. I want to be at home. I want to play with Ans and come home to you in this house and to meet up with Kordell and play ball with him when I can.”

He pressed his lips to my nape again. “You are such a softy, with the world’s biggest heart. Why have you spent so much of your life trying to hide it?”

“Me man. Me hard,” I teased.

“Don’t do that. Not with me.”

No, I didn’t have to do that with him, did I? “I know. You gonna come with me? You can’t come into the meeting, but—”

“If you want me there, it’s where I’ll be.”

We got up, got ready, and drove to the Lightning business offices.

“Should I wait in the car?” he asked.

“Nope.” As soon as we got out and met in front of the car, I took Jeremy’s hand. No matter what happened, I wanted them to know I was proud of who I was, proud to be with the man beside me, and if they offered me a contract, this was what they would get.

We checked in, then took the elevator up. Mia was waiting for me in the waiting room, chatting with the receptionist. Her eyes flittered to Jeremy and back to me when we walked in together. She smiled in support. “Let’s do this.”

I pressed a quick kiss to Jeremy’s lips. He sat down while the receptionist led us to the same conference room I’d gone to when the papers had revealed Jeremy and I were together. The whole management team was already waiting for us. The team owner, Ronald, stood first. “Darren, Mia, it’s good to see you both.”

“Good to see you too.” I shook his hand. We said our hellos to everyone else, then took our seats.

“Listen, we’re not here to blow smoke up your ass, so we’ll get right to it. We love you in Atlanta. We’ve always loved you in Atlanta. You’re a damn good quarterback, one of the best. You and Hawkins out there together…well, it’s a match made in football heaven.”

“But?” I asked, nerves skittering down my spine.

“It’s probably not the kind of but you’re thinking,” he replied.

“It’s killing me not to make a joke right now.” I felt my sister roll her eyes beside me.

“Not the time, Darren,” Mia said tightly.

“Actually, it might be perfect for what we’re about to say, because it’s so you—what we love about you. I gotta be honest and tell you we were leaning toward not offering you a contract. You’re one of the fucking best. We all know that, but as sad as it is, we’re not sure of the repercussions of having both you and Anson on a team together.”

I wasn’t surprised to hear him say that. There were still jokes all over the internet, a lot of photos on social media of me and Anson together, things like, I wonder how long they were fucking? Who do you think takes it—Anson or Darren? The newest was calling us the Atlanta Fairies and wisecracks about being the queer team in the league. I would have thought that Anson coming out first would have made it easier for queer players, and maybe it would have if it wasn’t me or we weren’t on the same team, but those two things combined were the kind of media attention an organization didn’t want. They wanted the focus on the game, and instead it would be about me and Anson, best friends on the same team, who were both queer.

“Yeah, people will talk, but we’ll shut them up with our game. We’ll win—me and Ans together. I can promise you that.”

There were a few chuckles around the room.

“You can’t not re-sign him because of his sexuality,” Mia said. “Do you hear what you’re saying? Because I definitely do.”

“We’re not turning Darren away because he’s gay.”

“Bi and demiromantic.” Maybe it wasn’t the right time, but before I’d gotten all demiromantic and bisexual myself, I’d been one of those guys who didn’t think the bisexual thing was legit. Maybe that was one of the reasons I’d struggled with labels so much. Now that I saw bisexuality as less binary, and more of a spectrum, I’d fully decided those labels worked for me, and I’d wear them proudly.