CHAPTER 35
brEVAN
Heading into the facility where the drafts are taking place is a surreal experience. My entire body is covered in chills. There’s no guarantee that I’ll be drafted. I know that. But being invited here is a huge honor. It is a huge win.
There are a whole bunch of people taking my name and pointing me along a path that I can’t see. I’m so damn nervous. My palms are sweaty.
Every dozen steps, I look back to make sure the most important people in my life are still there. That they haven’t somehow been ushered off, and I’ve been separated from them. I’m terrified of being alone right now.
Silly. It’s just the draft. Not a huge deal. Not life-changing or anything.
But they’re still there. Kendrick, in his black suit with a charcoal-gray shirt. He looks like one of the many important league people. As if he’s on the wrong side of the evening.
My brother is here too. Cody took the time off to fly out to Tennessee to support me. He flashes me a smile.
At my side is Coach Lemon. He’s wearing a one-piece leggings set with a long, split skirt that fans out behind him like he’s a queen over heels that terrify me.
I think those heels are weapons. Covered in sparkling diamonds and perfect make-up, he’s gotten more attention than literally anyone else I’ve seen so far.
He grips my wrist, probably knowing that I’m so damn nervous, I could likely combust at any moment. “Head up, Brevan,” Coach says. “This is your day.”
His words always give me a moment of calm.
We’re led to a seating area. There are televisions and speakers everywhere. There are people with cameras everywhere. I probably look like a deer in headlights right now. This is so damn overwhelming, I think I’d rather be home than here.
“Take a breath, sweetheart,” Kendrick says as he sits beside me. I do as I’m told.
When my eyes meet his, I relax a little. He’s here with me. Once our relationship was out to the administration, there was no reason to hide it anymore. So we made the decision that Kendrick would join me.
I’m so glad he’s here. There’s no one else in the entire world that I want to share this moment with. Don’t get me wrong; Coach and Cody being here mean everything to me. I’m so damn grateful they were both able to share this experience with me and lend me their support.
But Kendrick being here means something else entirely. There’s no putting into words what it means to me. In so many ways, this moment together feels like we’re truly a real couple. Partners. This is a real event in the real world. Not something taking place at or for the University.
We’re still not sure who tipped someone off about our relationship.
As it turns out, what they’d been going on was seeing me come and go from Kendrick’s house with Martha.
I guess walking the dog wasn’t a good enough reason for being there so often.
I thought it was believable. But then, no one asked, so it’s not like I could spread my story, right?
They didn’t have anything to go on but that. In our various meetings, we gave away the true nature and depth of our relationship far more than the accusations against us. Maybe they weren’t accusations, but they sure as hell felt like it. I was sure I was under arrest or something.
It doesn’t matter. That day guaranteed that Kendrick could be here with me.
“We’re sitting in a room surrounded by people who are going to be millionaires soon,” Cody says.
He’s not a huge football fan, but I think he follows it enough to understand it. We’d always talked about football growing up, and while I don’t think he’s ever been passionate about the sport, he held his own in conversation. I’m pretty sure he did it for me.
“We’re sitting beside one,” Coach says, giving me a sparkling smirk.
“You’re the prettiest person in the room,” Cody says with a wide smile.
“I know,” Coach says. “That’s why no one can look away. I’m going to live rent-free in their minds for a very, very long time.”
I’m not na?ve enough to know that many of the looks in Coach’s direction aren’t admiring. I may live under a rock often, but I’m not oblivious to the world around me. Well… maybe I’m less oblivious these days.
I’ll never forget the stories that the other ambassadors in Iceland told while introducing themselves. I’ve asked my friends about what made them choose RDU in the days following the return of my trip, and a solid half have similar, if not worse, stories to add to my collection of horrors.
The faces I look into as my gaze wanders around the room fill in the blanks of the ugly people in those stories.
Now that I am aware of just how much negativity and hate surround people like me in the world, it’s not hard to see the disdain in people’s expressions as they watch Coach. I can see those whispering. Pointing.
“There’s a lot of fragile masculinity in pro sports,” Coach tells me, and I meet his eyes. He doesn’t appear at all bothered by the way people watch him. I wonder how I’m looking at them. “Do you know why I dressed like this today?”
He stands and does a little twirl for me. I grin and shake my head.
“Fine diamonds are rich and powerful armor,” he states as he takes a seat again.
“I’m challenging their ideas of what defines a successful, proud man right now, especially because I’m a well-known coach who sends, on average, a dozen people into the drafts every year, and at least half of them are picked up for the pros.
I have more athletes under my belt who have made it big than any other college coach in history.
And I’m not done. You’re next, Brevan. And I’m going to be here putting a face to the name that everyone whispers in mortified, sometimes hateful, reverence.
I’m everything they’ll never be but wish they were brave enough to emulate.
My masculinity isn’t hidden by femininity; it’s simply redefined. ”
“Legend,” Cody says and makes a show of bowing to him like Coach is a pharaoh.
With his words ringing in my ears, I look around again and grin. They only hate because they’re afraid that someone who looks like Coach Lemon Frost is actually far more secure in his masculinity than they are. Facing the truth of their fragility makes them angry.
“Five minutes,” someone announces.
My stomach flips. There’s a momentary rise in voices as excitement and nerves fill the air. I can almost feel it.
We’re brought beverages, and then I’m staring at the screen with muted coverage of the stage with its bright lights and big screen overlooking a massive audience. The NFL commissioner, Robert Lore, steps onto the stage, and there’s a loud cheer.
I barely hear his words as he addresses those watching. This moment feels surreal. Like I’m dreaming. As if I’m not really here. So many people, everyone I’ve ever played football with, have wished for this moment. For so few, it happens in real life.
The room hushes as the commissioner states, “The first pick in the 2019 NFL draft is in. Arizona Wings selects Royce Kyler of Longwood University.”
His stats appear on the screen, denoting him as 5’10”, 207lbs, with an overall grade of 90. He is a quarterback from LU, the first ever to be drafted in the NFL, and is the 2018 Heisman Trophy winner.
Arizona Wings signed Kyler to a four-year, $35.158 million contract with a fifth-year option. He also received a $23.58 million signing bonus.
Those numbers make my stomach flip. In the corner of the screen that doesn’t have Kyler’s stats is a shot of the cameras tracking Kyler’s progress until he gets to the stage.
Once he’s on the stage, all his stats are relegated to a bar across the bottom of the screen, and the image of Kyler posing with the commissioner takes up the entire screen.
We sit through round two where Bosan Nicks, a defensive end out of Ohio State, is picked up by the San Francisco Grizzlies for a four-year, $33.5 million contract with a $22.4 million dollar signing bonus.
As we’re watching him on the screen make his way to the commissioner, someone in the room loudly touts, “That’s what a real man looks like.”
Anger floods my body, but Coach looks at his perfectly painted nails and states, “Careful, your fragile masculinity is showing.”
Silence settles around the room. I don’t bother trying to hide my smile as I stare at Nicks making his way through the hall toward the stage. His stats are pretty good. There’s a little box that pops up stating that he’s currently the highest-paid defensive player in the NFL. That’s pretty cool.
I can feel the chill from the corner where someone thought they’d insult Coach. I don’t know who it was, and I frankly don’t care. Tension fills the room after the exchange, but my eyes are locked on the screen. My hand grips Kendrick’s tightly as the Commissioner steps up to his podium again.
“The third pick in the 2019 NFL draft, the New York Tides select, Brevan Skeeter, cornerback. Rainbow Dorset.”
Chills break out over my body, and for just a second, I stare at the screen. My name and an image of me on the field pop up. Holy shit. Oh my god.
“Brevan,” Cody yells and pulls me to my feet. He wraps his arms around me and hugs me tightly. Tears instantly blur my vision when he says, “Our parents and grandparents would be so proud of you, Brev. I’m so fucking proud of you. You did it, baby brother! You did it.”
I squeeze him for another second as I try to force down my emotions.
He lets me go, and I wipe my eyes. Coach squeezes me tightly and reminds me, “There’s no shame in tears. Congratulations, Brevan. I knew you could do it.”
Then I’m in Kendrick’s arms and there aren’t any words. None except his quiet, “I love you, sweetheart. I’m so damn proud. Go get your jersey.”
I step back and wipe my eyes, Kendrick’s words ringing in my ears. I love you. The room is chaotic as people clap, watching me. There’s a whole train of people pointing me along, and I follow their instructions that lead me up the stairs and down a hall.
My cheeks hurt, and I realize my smile is so fucking wide. I did this. It’s real, and it’s happening. I’m in the NFL. I’m a professional football player.
I love you.
A man that I’m sure I know meets me right before the hall ends and hands me a New York Tides hat. I accept it and do the whole handshake half-hug thing that guys tend to do while he congratulates me.
Then he ushers me on.
I love you.
The lights are blinding as I step out onto the stage toward the commissioner and once more accept the same congratulatory handshake half-hug thing before he unfolds a fake NY jersey that has my name on the back and the number one.
We pose for the audience. For the cameras.
For the world to see me, little queer Brevan Skeeter, drafted as the third overall 2019 NFL draft pick.
This might be the best day of my entire life, but as I stand there and stare out at the audience, knowing that my life will never be the same again, I know it isn’t my draft that’s at the core of this monumental moment.
It’s not the biggest thing that happened today.
Not the most important. Not even the most significant.
Kendrick’s words echo loudly in my head, drowning out everyone and everything. I love you. Those words right there have transformed my life in the blink of an eye. Nothing will ever be the same again.