Chapter 1 #2
I huffed a laugh. He was spot-on. “Yeah, guess I do.” I sipped my beer. “I didn’t come out until I left for college.” My chest tightened as the memories flooded through my head. “Wren was out and very proud. He was on the gymnastics team and damn good at it.”
“Okay, so he was out, and you weren’t.” Nodding, he took a few gulps of beer. “First beer after a game is always the best. Especially after a win.” He held his glass toward me.
I bumped my glass against his and drank some beer. “Sure is. Even if I could have lost it for us.”
“Naw, Casey had it covered.” He snickered. “So how did you hook up with this guy?”
“We were lab partners in chemistry class.” I shrugged, my heart aching. “He was flirtatious, like really flirtatious.” And later he’d told me he’d suspected I was queer. I didn’t know how. That fact alone had scared the shit out of me.
"Like…Casey flirty?” He smirked and drank more beer.
“Yeah, like Casey flirty.” Since Casey was technically bisexual, he flirted with everyone, no matter their gender. Of course, it had all stopped when he’d met Ryker, his mechanic boyfriend.
“And at the time, did you know you liked guys?” He eyed me.
Of all the things I’d discussed with the guys, I’d never told my story.
With a shrug, I said, “I did, but I wasn’t willing to admit it.
I’d dated a few girls, but my feelings never got past being good friends.
” Holding my frosty beer glass, I tapped it with my index finger. “I grew up in a rural town in Oregon.”
“Yeah, I know. Medford, right?” He shifted on the bench seat. “So you were afraid?”
“Yeah, I was. My dad’s a supervisor for a logging crew.
He’s pretty, uh…conservative.” I watched the bubbles pop at the top of my beer as a knot grew in my gut.
Maybe I hadn’t told my story because it outed me as the coward I’d been.
“I hid my sexuality until I left for college. That morning, I sat my parents down and told them at the airport.” I winced.
The look of disdain on Dad’s face had been all I needed to know. “Then I got on my plane for Phoenix.”
“Jesus.” He squeezed my hand and freed it. “What a send-off.”
“Yeah. It was a few days before I heard from my mom. She wasn’t happy, but she accepted it. Dad was another story. It took him until I went home for Christmas break to talk to me.” With a slow nod, I snuck a peek at him from under my dark bangs.
“But when you did, he was okay with it?” A line formed between Malik’s brows. “You’ve said nothing bad about your parents to me.”
With a shrug, I said, “Yeah, Dad’s okay with it now. He doesn’t have much of a choice though, does he?” I freed a stuttered chuckle. “After moving my shit into the dorm, the first thing I did was go talk to the people at the LGBTQ Helpline.”
“And it started you on your journey of volunteering with them.” With a half-smile, he sipped his beer.
“Yep.” I sat back in my seat, my gaze roaming the bar and a fresh karaoke singer taking the mic. “Talking to others helped me deal with my situation back home. And the space helped.” Too bad I’d run from my younger sister though. Her support of me had always been unwavering.
“So, how does Wren fit in?” He studied me.
Time to spill my darkest secret. “I was such an asshole.” I breathed through the ache in my chest.
“You? How?” Arching a brow, his lip curled. “I don’t see you ever being an asshole to anyone.”
“Yeah, but back then I had my moments.” I slumped my shoulders. This was so fucking hard to admit. I’d been so immature. “Wren and I kissed during a study session at my house when no one was home. It blew my carefully constructed world apart.”
His eyes widened, and he smirked. “Yeah? When you’re gay, your first kiss with a guy can be like that.”
“Well, I couldn’t get enough. We started hooking up and then dating, and pretty soon, I fell in love.” I tensed the corner of my mouth. “Okay, we fell in love. We both said it. I know I felt it, and I’m pretty sure he wasn’t lying.” And then all the shit hit the fan.
“Okay, and I’m guessing the problem was with your parents?” He held his beer glass to his lips for a beat and then drank.
“No, it was with me. I wanted to keep us a secret.” I twisted my beer on the table as my chest squeezed.
“He wanted us to be public, but I’d heard guys say derogatory shit about him…
” I rubbed the heel of my hand across my chest. “I didn’t want them saying it about me.
” In a soft, ragged voice, I said, “I…I played football and dated pretty girls.”
Malik’s mouth fell open and his brows lowered. “Did you hear them say those things after you’d confessed your feelings?”
Holding my beer glass tightly, my knuckles turned white.
“I did.” Nausea balled in my gut. “And no, I never defended him. Not when it was behind his back, which it always was.” Would any amount of volunteering on the helpline atone for my actions?
I’d stood and listened to assholes berate the man I loved and said nothing.
With a hard swallow, Malik’s eye twitched. “And did he find out?”
I nodded slowly. “He did. He heard about it from a friend of his. He was there once.”
“Jesus, Eli. You were a grade A asshole.” Shaking his head, he said, “I guess if a guy did that to me, I’d end the relationship too.” He tsked. “You could have defended him without admitting you two were together.”
“But I was scared.” I locked my gaze on his, my words sounding stupid and hollow as they rolled off my tongue. “I thought if I defended him, someone might put two and two together and—”
“And ruin your reputation as a womanizing football player?” He scoffed. “Dude, I’m so glad you’re not that guy anymore. Holy shit.” He shifted back in his seat and blew a long breath. “I never would have pegged you as someone who’d be like that.”
“I know and I’m ashamed of it. I was a coward, and I regret all of it.
” After downing the rest of my beer, I poured another one.
Time to wallow in the horrible person I was.
“Look, I don’t know where the hell he came from, but I’ll have to see him at every game.
” And he was even more adorable than in high school. An ache rolled through my chest.
“Plus, he’ll be traveling with us. Don’t forget that.” With a shake of his head, Malik smirked and drank some beer. “How the hell will you stay focused on the games?”
“Don’t know.” I rubbed my sweaty palm on my thigh, taking a quick glance at him. “Hey, do me a favor and keep this between us.”
“You don’t want the others to know what a douchebag you were in high school?” He huffed a sharp laugh.
“No, I don’t.” I breathed in deeply and stared at my fresh beer. “I suppose I’ll have to talk to him.” Did he still hate me? The breakup had been so painful.
“That’s probably a good idea.” As Malik’s gaze met mine, he squeezed my shoulder. “Maybe you can be friends now. If you explain how sorry you are for what you did, he might forgive you.”
“I don’t know.” I sipped my beer, the tightness in my chest unwinding. “Seeing him today…well, it brought a lot of shit back.” Did I still have feelings for him? I did when I’d left for college. I’d dreamt of him for months, maybe even a year later.
“Eli.” Malik peered at me. “What’s going through your head? You’re making some odd faces.” He smirked. “Like you’re in pain.”
“I am?” I relaxed my expression and drew a circle on the table with my index finger. Would speaking to Wren help or make things worse? “It was hard seeing him again. It hurt.”
“Do you still love him?” Malik fixated on me.
“I…” Chuckling through a scoff, I said, “No. It’s been years.” Pain sliced through my heart. Here I was lying again. “Okay, maybe.”
He shook his head and, jabbing at the table, said, “You have to talk to him. Your game depends on your making this right.” He pursed his lips. “If your stats suffer this year, it could cost you an NFL contract.”
My eyes widened. He was right. “Yeah, I know.” This was insane. Why had my past reappeared to haunt me in my senior year?
“Okay, then start using that psychology major you’re studying and all the expertise you’ve learned from the helpline and get on it.” He patted my thigh. “We need you at full capacity at these games.”
“I know nothing about him, though.” I drank more beer and then sighed. How could I find out where he’d be besides at the games? Was their practice schedule online somewhere?
“Dude, social media.” With a soft snort, he poured himself another beer.
After making breakfast for the guys the next day, I retired to my room to start my quest for information on Wren. Wren had to be on Instagram or TikTok, right? What college student athlete didn’t have accounts there?
I flopped onto my bed on my back and shimmied to the pillows resting against the headboard. I didn’t need the other guys finding out who I was looking up and, thankfully, they’d had enough grace not to mention my crappy performance last night.
I tapped my screen open and searched Instagram for Wren Lewis. A few profiles came up. Biting my lower lip, I tapped on each one. None of them were him. What the fuck?
With a huff, I opened TikTok and searched for his name there. Again, I came up empty. Facebook? Who the hell went on Facebook anymore unless you wanted to sell shit? As I inhaled deeply, I checked to see if he was there. Nothing. Nada. It was like the dude ceased to exist online.
Twisting my mouth, I lunged for my laptop, sitting in the corner of my bed. I’d have to resort to the school’s information. Surely the Spirit Squad roster would list him.
My fingers flew over the keyboard as I ran a Google search, found the team’s webpage and then found links to their social media accounts. “Bingo. You can’t hide from me for long, Wren.” Fuck, I’d said his name aloud. My heart twinged. There’d been a time when his name made me all tingly inside.
As I clicked on the Spirit Squad’s Instagram account, I scrolled through the tiles. My heart lurched as his picture came up. He stood between two female cheerleaders, all dressed in gold with maroon accents, in their cheer uniforms.
The lighting in the photo highlighted his bright gray eyes, which once held so much fascination for me.
I could have looked into his eyes forever.
He had an easy smile, and his long bangs fell to the cheekbones on his boyish face.
He’d always looked younger than he was. Warmth floated through my chest as my gaze swept his image.
He still had the powerful body of a gymnast, but he’d always been on the smaller side.
He said gymnasts should build their bodies like little powerhouses of muscle.
I touched the screen and scrolled to the next photo, one where he stood with an arm in the air at the game, our game from last night. My uniform number was blurred, but I could clearly see that I had been within feet of him.
Jesus, what was he thinking? He’d have known I was playing on the football team, right?
But then, we’d parted ways before my scholarship had come through.
And how the fuck did he end up at ASU? I swiped again, and a video played of him performing a series of back handsprings. That was the gymnast I knew.
I gazed at the ceiling fan, ruminating. How could I find him?
I ran another Google search. “Fuck.” They practiced at several facilities.
I had to talk to him before the next game.
Which was an away game at Mississippi State.
They were a tough team, and I had to be ready.
Maybe my coach could tell me how to find them.
Setting my laptop aside, I jumped off the bed and strolled to the framed photo of my parents, resting on the corner of my dresser.
The silver bracelet hung on a corner, my permanent reminder of what I’d done and who I’d lost. Wren had given it to me after the Homecoming game.
I had been crowned Homecoming King, and afterward, we’d snuck away to a hotel room and had sex for the first time.
He’d told me we were destined to be together as he’d clasped it around my wrist. And then a few months later, I’d let others demean him in the worst way.
I clutched the bracelet and brought it to my aching chest, my eyes stinging. How could I ever redeem myself? I had to try. I will find him before Saturday. Glancing at my laptop, I swiped wetness from my eyes and carefully set the bracelet back in place on the frame. It was time to study.