Rizzo narrowed his eyes. “CJ.”
CJ took a slow drink of his beer. “Dominic.”
Rizzo sat back and pointed at him. “That’s the face of a man lying through his teeth.”
“I’m not?—”
“You flinch whenever I mention Delgado’s name. You flinch when he walks onto the field. And you flinched forty minutes ago when you asked the server if this place had the beer you’re drinking because it’s Delgado’s favorite, and you know I know that, and you wondered if I’d notice.” He ticked each item off on his fingers and lowered his voice. “Guess what? I noticed.”
“What? No,” CJ protested. “I like this beer.”
“Do you?” Rizzo looked skeptical. “You make a face every time you take a sip.”
“I…” CJ trailed off and thought about it. “Wait, stop. Yes, I like this beer. Stop trying to confuse me.”
Rizzo lifted his palms in a motion of surrender. “Listen, I’m not saying anything, and I’m not asking you to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me.”
“Then why do you keep bringing him up?” CJ hissed at him.
“Because,” Rizzo said gently—fuckinggently, the asshole. “I think you could use someone to talk to.”
CJ dropped his head and tried to remember how to breathe. A heavy hand gripped his shoulder, and he heard Rizzo’s voice, low and measured.
“Take a deep breath, CJ.” Rizzo inhaled and exhaled slowly, gesturing for CJ to do the same. When he was breathing normally again, Rizzo continued, “I’m not going to spill whatever secret I think I know. And I’m not judging you. At all. I just want you to know you have someone on your side.”
Rizzo took a long drink from his beer when CJ remained silent, draining the glass before clearing his throat. “Okay, listen. I’m gonna tell you something, and you’re not allowed to make it weird.”
CJ blinked at him. “I’m not the one making things weird right now.”
“Yeah, but you have a talent for it,” Rizzo said solemnly. “A gift, even.”
“For what?” CJ wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“For panicking about feelings.”
CJ scowled. “I don’t panic.”
“You do. You panic by pretending you’renotpanicking,” Rizzo explained. “That’s almost worse. It’s like emotional fraud.”
CJ stared at him in awe. “Are these words you’re saying real?”
“Shh,” Rizzo said, with an imperious wave. “I’m being vulnerable.”
CJ stayed silent and watched as Rizzo inhaled slowly, the kind of breath you take before stepping off a cliff. “Okay so…I’m going to tell you something I don’t tell a lot of guys. Not because I’m ashamed, but because people can be assholes.”
CJ’s throat suddenly felt dry and he took a sip of his beer. “Okay…”
Rizzo traced a ring of condensation with his thumb, eyes on the table. When he spoke, his voice was deliberately casual.“When I was in the minors, down in Double-A, I had…a thing with someone. A teammate.”
CJ’s brain stopped. “Oh,” he said. “Okay.”
Rizzo nodded. “It wasn’t serious, but it was real. And it was good for a little while. Until it wasn’t.”
CJ stared at him. “I— I didn’t know you were…”
“Bi,” Rizzo supplied.
“Yeah, that.” CJ swallowed the rest of his beer. “That’s great.” He caught their server’s attention and signaled for another round for both of them.
