Carter #2
After taking a piss, I peek into the guest room to check on Evan and Christina. They’re passed out, snoring loudly. Clearly, all four of us went way too hard last night.
I shuffle back into the bedroom to kiss my sleeping boyfriend. Not ready to wake Nate just yet, I grab my phone to see if the night out has officially turned me into a public pariah. Lo and behold, I have tons of messages.
Most are from my teammates, a few from my family, and one from the Hawks Public Relations Department.
But the one that immediately spikes my anxiety is a text from Carlos Hernandez, the general manager of the Hawks.
All the text reads is 'Let’s catch up.' The email provides no details about the meeting's subject matter.
What does he want to talk about? Is he pissed? Nervous doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling. I’ve never spoken to him one-on-one, just passed him in the hallways a few times. He’s always on his phone or talking to someone.
I scroll through my texts, bracing for disaster…
but every single one is supportive. Teammates texting things like, Can’t wait to meet your guy!
You’re a king! If anyone fucks with you, they will go through me!
I can’t help but smile. All the messages are extremely nice and supportive.
Even the PR team’s message is neutral and professional, stating, The Hawks organization is here to support you in any way you need. Please reach out anytime.
Then there’s a long, emotional text from my mom, telling me how proud she is and how much she loves me.
I even have a message from Nate’s sister, which surprises me in the best way.
Rachel’s message tells me to call her sometime and talk about how I feel.
I laugh to myself, knowing that she is a therapist, not just Nate’s chaotic sister.
Roman and Spencer both sent a message, too, with full support.
I set my phone down, feeling overwhelmed in the best possible way, and lean over to kiss Nate on the cheek. The moment my lips touch his skin, his eyes slowly open, and he smiles at me sleepily.
“Hey, sexy,” he mutters.
I smirk. “Everyone knows.”
He sits up quickly, grabbing his phone to check his own messages. A few texts from his family pop up, then he opens Instagram and sees some articles. One headline makes him pause:
“Is this Carter Elliott’s Gay Awakening? Who is the Mysterious Man Kissing the Hawks' Star Running Back?”
I raise my eyebrows dramatically. “Mysterious man? Should we tell the media you’re a famous pop star about to explode onto the scene?”
Nate grins. “I love staying hidden. So…How ‘bout not. I’ll be your secret mistress.”
I laugh, but then I notice his smile fading as he keeps scrolling. He finally puts his phone down and says, “Promise me one thing: that you don’t go on social media.”
“I never do,” I say. “I’m sure for every sweet message, there’s at least one asshole trying to boycott me or petition me off the Hawks.”
Nate hesitates. “Do you want the honest truth?”
I shake my head. “I’m good. I know where you’re going with this.”
I don’t need to see negative comments. Right now, I want to sit and think of all the love I’m getting.
Everyone who matters has been amazing. The articles I’ve come across so far are full of praise, but I’ve definitely seen a few comments threatening to boycott the Hawks if they don’t drop me. Ridiculous, but not surprising.
Still, I feel freer than I ever have. I’m excited to see how everything plays out. Nervous too, but mostly excited.
A little later, I get dressed and walk into the kitchen where Nate, Christina, and Evan are eating breakfast.
“Well,” I say, grabbing my keys, “I’ve gotta head out and talk with my team's general manager. I’ll be back in a few hours. I assume you two won’t still be here?”
Christina shakes her head, “Nope, our train back to Philly is in an hour.”
“I didn’t know you were talking to the GM,” Nate says, frowning a little.
“I didn’t say anything because I’m nervous about what he’ll say.”
“You’ll be fine,” Evan says confidently. “The NFL’s pretty progressive now. Also, you’re not the first person to come out, so I doubt they hire you to be the NFL’s new gay icon.”
Christina snorts. “Lol.”
I lean over and kiss Nate on the cheek. “Wish me luck.”
“Always,” he says, his eyes soft.
I step out the door, heart pounding, but hopeful.
I make it to the stadium a little after one and head straight toward the general manager’s office. As I walk through the hallway, I pass a woman I’ve seen before with the Hawks Public Relations Department. She grabs my hand gently, stopping me for a second.
“We’ve got everything under control,” she says, looking me right in the eye. “You’re great, and we have your back. Let us handle everything. Okay?”
I offer her a small, grateful smile, tight but sincere. It’s comforting to know that at least she and her team have my back.
By 1:30, I walk into Carlos Hernandez’s office and immediately notice Coach McCormick sitting there. He looks up and says, “Carter, come in. I was just about to leave. I'm just catching up with Carlos, nothing major.”
I nod, a little curious. “Alright. I’ll see you after this meeting.”
Coach gives me a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, it’ll be an easy practice today. We need everyone in tip-top shape for tomorrow’s game.”
He gets up from the chair, pats my shoulder on the way out, and closes the door behind him.
I take a seat on a comfortable brown leather chair in front of My’ Hernandez’s desk. I lean forward and shake the man's hand.
“Hello, Mr. Hernandez. Nice to finally meet you; well, formally meet you.”
He smiles. “Call me Carlos, Carter.”
Then he cuts straight to it. “I’m sure you’re well aware of the media storm: the articles, the posts, the reactions. The hate, yes, but also the love. I just wanted to tell you face-to-face: the entire Hawks organization has your back.”
I nod, my chest lightening. “Thank you. Seriously, thank you. I didn’t want to do a press conference, it just didn’t feel right. However, I’m happy to sit down with the PR team sometime this week to go over how to handle reporters. Whatever you need.”
Carlos smiles. “Completely fair. We’ll keep it low-pressure. But yeah, a little prep will help you feel more in control when those questions start flying.”
I nod, a little more confidently now. “And just to say it directly, I want to reassure you that football is my focus. I want to win. I want us in the damn playoffs. That’s all I care about right now.”
Carlos’s grin widens. “We love to hear that. And trust me, when I say, "Coach, myself, and the entire front office have all had our eyes on you.”
I tilt my head, intrigued.
“I know your contract is up after this season,” he says. “And I know you’re hoping for a new deal. I don’t have specific numbers or details to share with you today, but I can tell you that we’re working on something. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
My face lights up. “Thank you, thank you. That’s all I want. I want to be here long term.”
Carlos nods. “Anytime, Carter. Now go get to practice.”
I stand, shake his hand again, and walk out the door feeling a surge of energy and joy. I shoot Nate a quick text on the way to the locker room: That was such a great meeting. I love this team. And I love you.
Practice runs just under two hours. Everyone treats me exactly the same, they fuck with me the same way, same tone, same energy. Nothing’s changed, and that makes me feel more assured than ever.
After practice, I head into the locker room with such excitement for tomorrow’s game. I throw on my clothes, give a few nods to teammates on my way out, and step into the cool evening air.
I can’t wait to see Nate. I can’t wait to win tomorrow. And I can’t wait to take this team to the playoffs.