Chapter 13 #3
“I’m proud of you, man. Good for you.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I figured it out a while ago, I was just waiting for you to get comfortable to share.” He pats me on the back reassuringly.
“How the hell?” Unless he’s been snooping through my phone in the past month, I don’t see how that’s possible.
“Sonya told me about what happened with Ava.” He says, eyebrows raised. “I figured you gotta be super gay because that girl in lingerie? She’s so hot, dude."
I smack him on the back of his head. “Ouch! What was that for? I didn’t tell anybody, did I?”
“I wasn’t hiding it, it just didn’t come up. It’s nobody’s business and the last thing I need is my name in the news and a qualifier attached to my stats. I don’t want any of my private business out there.”
Dez nods. “I get it. I’m not media-phobic like you are, but it gets really annoying to have your sexuality attached to everything you do. As if liking the occasional dick has anything to do with my win rate or how fast I run.”
We laugh, but it’s not really funny.
When Dez came out, there was some backlash from fans. We are in the deep south, so it was expected, but he got more positive attention from the fans who appreciated him publicly living his truth than anything else. He got more endorsement deals and magazine spreads, too.
Except I don’t want positive attention, either. I’ve turned down every endorsement deal and every media event that isn’t required. This smile thing is bad enough. I don’t want to be America’s heartthrob, gay or straight, or a conversation piece used for news fodder.
Why the fuck does it matter so much?
“Y’all know that when I came to play for the Cyclones, I didn’t plan to stay past the initial contract. I love the game, but being a celebrity isn’t for me. I stayed because I found a comfortable balance, and I love this team.”
Before anyone can say anything else, Monty stands up again.
He tells us all to listen up, but he didn’t have to.
The moment he stood up, with his big shiny belt buckle and black cowboy hat, he had everyone’s attention.
Monty is our leader, and we all have a lot of respect for him, even if he likes to embarrass his team members on occasion.
He looks at me pointedly, and then at Dez.
“Both of y’all have all our support, no matter what.
” His gaze moves around the table, settling on every player.
“I ain’t about to have anybody on this team go off tellin’ your business to nobody, you hear?
” I give him a clipped nod, and then he stares everyone down again, as if to make sure they understand the unspoken threat.
Everyone murmurs their agreement, or support, or nods.
He nods his approval and sits back down.
“I told you, man. I’ve got your back,” AJ says, echoing what he said when he saved me from the journalists after the game today. “We all know you’re a private guy. Although honestly, I thought you were afraid of the publicity because you were in the closet.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m just an introvert, I guess. I’m comfortable with most everyone here, so it’s easier to be social, but I just don’t… What?” I ask, looking around at more than one pair of raised eyebrows.
“Aside from today, you think you’re social?”
“With you, yeah,” I shrug.
Monty laughs. “I’m pretty sure you’ve said more in the last half hour than you have since you joined the team.”
My face burns, and I laugh uncomfortably. I guess he’s right. “Sorry. I’ll try to–”
“Nah, man,” AJ cuts in. “You be you. Who you are is part of what makes this team great. And we’re going straight to the top this year!” AJ holds up his glass, and everyone cheers.
“Well, not straight to the top,” Dez says. I roll my eyes, but my shoulders are shaking. These guys are something else.
Dez ends up ordering the whole table a round of blowjobs, a milky white shot with whipped cream on the top.
Most everyone takes one, minus me and one or two other guys, but no one pressures anyone to drink.
Dez explains how you take the shot, then demonstrates.
I get a kick out of watching each of them take their turn putting their hands behind their back, putting their mouths around the shot glass without getting it on their faces, and then tipping them back without using their hands.
Connor Laramie, who must be a lightweight, informs me right before his turn that he likes it when his girlfriend pegs him.
Which, good for him, but I didn’t really need to know that.
Then he’s laughing too much and ends up choking when he tips his back.
Some of the shot comes out of his nose and the sides of his mouth, getting all over his face.
He sputters, still laughing and coughing, and I pat his back.
“You gotta open your throat,” I say, not giving it much thought.
The whole table dissolves into raucous laughter. AJ has his hands on either side of his face, practically screaming, “OHMYGOD! Did Luc just make a joke?! A dirty one?!”
I can feel my ears burning, but I can’t stop laughing. By the time I get back to my hotel room, my face is actually sore from smiling so much.