Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“Rafferty, wait up,” Jonesie shouted.
I stopped in my tracks, frowning in response to Moreno’s unfriendly scowl as he continued ahead of us. “What’s up with him?”
“He’s pissed ’cause you keep calling him out for being a lazy shit.”
“Well, every time he’s lazy, I end up splattered on the field so ’scuse me if I don’t feel bad,” I huffed.
“Nah, you’re right.” Jonesie yanked on the strap of my workout bag before I reached the door. “About the other night…”
“What about it?” I asked nonchalantly.
“I’m not gonna say anything. I don’t care who you screw. You’re a great quarterback and that’s all that matters.” He pursed his lips and gave an uncomfortable shrug before continuing. “But, you should know there are some rumors going around. I didn’t think much about it ’cause there’s always some asshole who’s got something to say about—”
“What kind of rumors?”
“Gay rumors about you and your roommate, the baseball player. I never thought they were true, but maybe they are. I don’t know and like I said, I don’t care. But it’s coming up again. Moreno just told me he heard something and…I thought you’d want to know.”
I swallowed hard. “Right. Thanks.”
“Hey, I got your back. No worries here. And don’t worry about Moreno. He doesn’t really believe it anyway.” Jonesie patted my back reassuringly, then moved ahead of me into the locker room.
I could hardly hear the normal everyday banter over the rush of blood to my ears. I kept my head down, got ready as quickly as possible, and hurried to the field.
After an hour or so of running drills and working on my passing game, I felt more like myself again. There would always be background noise. It might be rowdy fans, screaming coaches, the lights, the elements…but once the ref blew the whistle, the game was the only thing that mattered. Thankfully, I was fully in my zone by the end of practice. My confidence was back to peak levels.
After practice, I spoke with Perez about my idea to stay on another year. He was ecstatic and very supportive.
“Good for you, man! That’s great news. I’ll help you with any financial aid you might need, but honestly, I think we can work out a scholarship for a year. Looks like you won’t have to take statistics again either. I heard your grade has already improved. I knew Rory was good. He’s helped a lot, hasn’t he?”
“Definitely.”
“I’m proud of you.” Perez gave me a high five, then followed it up with an impromptu hug. “I’m not gonna lie, this is good for the team. Your backup just isn’t ready for prime time. Let me talk to the other coaches, I want to announce this at the big game Saturday. Or maybe sooner. I could probably do a press release and—”
“Wait. I have to talk to my parents first,” I said. “Give me a couple of days.”
“You got it!”
He thumped my back again, then jogged off the field. Okay. This was good. No, wait. It wasn’t. I still had to deal with my parents, the Max and Sky drama, and most important, I had to work on how and when to come out.
One step at a time.
The rest of the week dragged by with one tension-filled encounter after another. As expected, my dad was furious at the notion that I’d “squander my education to throw a ball around.”
“It’s a waste of time, a waste of talent, a waste of your life!” he screamed over dinner Tuesday evening.
“But it’s my life. And I owe it to myself to try,” I countered calmly.
He glared at me menacingly before turning his attention to stabbing the meatloaf on his plate. He wouldn’t talk to me at all after that. Politics, weather, current events around town…nothing. I gave up and tried not to be bothered that every bite tasted like sawdust. I barely made it home before I vomited. I heaved over the toilet bowl with sweat dripping down my face, then sat back on my heels and wiped my brow. Fuck me. How was I going to tackle coming out if I couldn’t even discuss my education without getting physically ill?
On top of that, Max was a wreck about his breakup with Sky. He was relieved he’d done it, but waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop made him nervous. Hell, it made me nervous too. I tried to be supportive, but I couldn’t help thinking that doing nothing was worse.
“Max, why don’t you just talk to him? This isn’t healthy. You haven’t left the apartment in days,” I chided.
“I went to the gym and class yesterday. That’s all I got right now,” he sighed unhappily as he clicked channels on the remote control. “Have you noticed anyone looking at you differently lately?”
“Moreno looks like he wants to kill me, but that’s kinda normal. Why?”