Chapter 37 #2
I stand up with shaking hands. Everyone is looking at me.
My teammates, the physio, the assistant manager.
Everyone. The words get stuck in my throat, and I force out a cough.
“Hi. As you all know, I don’t like to talk much.
I talk about my personal life even less.
” Murmurs of agreement and nods from my teammates.
Good sign, I guess. “I want to clear something up. The incident with AJ that landed us both on the front page a few months back. He wasn’t trying to punch me.
” More murmurs from the locker room. I can feel every pair of eyes focused on me.
A bead of sweat runs down my face. “In a few days, I will be making a statement to the media. I will tell them what I am telling you now.” I swallow hard and wipe the sweat from my face.
“I’m… I’m gay. And I am in a relationship with AJ. ”
Silence.
You can hear a church mouse fart—it's that quiet.
Then.
Applause. Not the sarcastic kind, either. It starts from the back, and soon every single person is clapping. I’m swamped by my team. I worry if I’m dreaming, but then Timbers punches me in the arm and says, “I’m happy for you, man.”
“Me too, bro,” chimes in Jackson.
I create some space for myself, and wipe a stray tear from my eyes. “None of you have a problem with this?”
“Why would we?” asks Shippers.
“Yeah, we don’t give a fuck who you—well—fuck. As long as it doesn't affect your game,” Colten says with a wink.
“It won’t,” I say with certainty.
“Good, because we’re gonna need you at your best in the final,” Shippers says, clapping me on the back.
“Please keep this between this locker room. If this gets out before Kyle is ready to tell the media, I will find the person who did it and I will fire them.” My manager warns with a stern tone in his voice.
There are more rounds of claps on my back and congratulations, and I wait once more for the floor to fall through.
“If I haven’t told you for the millionth time, I’m so proud of you,” AJ says, wrapping me up in another hug as we sit up in bed.
“I’m still shook no one had a problem with it, not that I’m complaining about it.” I snuggle into his broad frame and kiss his chest.
“If they did, I’d march down there and bang them out.”
I burst out laughing, and he smacks me on the ass. “Oh, have I been a bad boy?” I ask, arching my eyebrows.
“Very,” he says, his tone hovering between laughter and firm.
“I’m sorry, but just because you’re tall, it doesn't mean you're intimidating.”
“But they don’t know that,” he pleads, looking down at me.
“Keep telling yourself that you’re this big hulking guy and I’ll keep putting you in your place in the bedroom.”
“Is that a promise?”
“It’s a guarantee,” I say, stretching my hand down to his already hard dick. I wipe the precum from his head and lick it off my thumb.
“Mmmm, looks like I need to go to the source,” I say, slowly making my way under the covers and wrapping my lips around his length, swallowing him whole.
Pre-game sex has turned out to be one of my favorite things, and it will take a convincing argument to tell me otherwise. However, getting up the next morning and trying to catch a very important flight with little sleep can get in the bin.
Despite waking up next to each other and heading to the same destination, we have to travel with our respective teams. We say our goodbyes in the airport car park and gave each other a little nod when we see each other again at the check-in counter.
Now I’m on the flight, headphones in, listening to Fleetwood Mac on my Compact Disc.
I’ve had more shit about that than I had about the gay thing.
Whitney was the first to ask if I’m okay with banter, and I said if he can back it up if he crosses the line, then there'd be no problem. Everyone seems to have respected that. They all know my dedication to the team, and I won’t let anything get in the way of lifting the trophy.
Not even if my boyfriend is on the opposite team.
Next thing I know, we’re landing. It felt like I was in the air for no more than fifteen seconds.
“Never took you for a snorer. I hope you kept AJ up all night,” my seat-mate, Bradley, says to me.
“I bet he did other stuff to keep him up all night,” Jackson butts in, raising suspicious eyebrows.
“Hey, if that’s your master plan. I’m down for it. All is fair in love and football, right?” Bradley says.
“I’m not confirming or denying anything. I will say, though, he’s going to be much more tired than me.”
“My guy!” Bradley says, smacking me on the back.
Being able to be free and open about who I am has untied another knot in my stomach.
They’re taking me as I am, as any human with common sense and decency should.
I will never understand the hate people get for being born different.
For those who do—and I know there are some on social media, and there will be even more once AJ and I “come out” publicly—they can cry me a river.
It’s hot on the training pitch. Like, really hot.
The management team has provided us all with bottles of ice water, and we’re now doing lighter training in the shade.
My legs are itching for a run. I know there’s going to be no shade in the stadium, and I know it’s going to be a tough game.
It’ll be about the fine margins. And if I know AJ, which I do very well, he’s going to try and one up me.
I will encourage it as it will be even more sweet knowing he gave it his all, and still comes up short against me.
I soak a towel and wrap it around the top of my head.
“I need to stretch my legs,” I say to one of the assistant managers before sprinting off.
The warm air hits my face as I run around the training field.
I speed past my teammates as they practice defense drills and shooting practice.
There’ll be time for that later for me. My manager has told me to work on penalties.
Just the word gives me anxiety. I’m over what AJ did or didn’t do last season—for what it’s worth, I believe that he tripped—but the act of taking one in a high-pressure game scares the shit out of me.
I can sense it coming down to penalties.
I don’t let my mind think any further than that.