"I can't."
Just that.
Two words.
I stared at him and felt something inside of me die.
Two words.
I never knew two words could do that.
Could take everything I'd been holding onto and rip it out by the root.
And I knew. Right then, before he said anything else, I knew. I could see exactly where this was going and I couldn't stop it and I couldn't look away from it either. It was over.
I thought that was the worst part.
It wasn’t.
Not even close.
"What did you tell them?"
He looked at his shoes.
"Marcus." I did my best to keep my voice level, even when everything inside was falling apart. Some survival instinct that knew if I broke right now I would break completely and irreversibly and I couldn't afford that. Not here. Not in front of him.
Hold it together for a little longer.
"What did you tell them?"
"I panicked—"
"What did you tell them?"
He finally looked at me. And I saw it. The apology that wasn't big enough to undo anything. The guilt that wasn't enough to make him do the right thing. Both of those things living in his face at the same time and neither of them changing a single thing about what he was about to say.
"I told them you'd been making me uncomfortable." Quiet. Like saying it quietly made it smaller than it was. Like being honest about it meant anything. "That it had been going on for a while. That I didn't want to make it a big thing but you kept — that you kept cornering me." He exhaled. "Rhys, I know these guys, they wouldn’t understand, I couldn't just — I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, I just panicked and it came out and I didn't know how to—"
I stopped listening. Not because I couldn't hear him. Because there was nothing left to hear. Nothing he could say mattered anymore. The rushing in my head went up to ten. The tears I'd been holding back since the door opened at that party — all week, every minute, every shower, every empty night staring at my phone — just sitting right there at the back of my eyes threatening to take everything with them.
I didn't let them.
I learned later that he also told them I'd been after him for a long time. Coming onto him. Touching him. Wouldn't take thehint. That what Tommy saw at that party was me not knowing how to keep my hands to myself.
He didn't say he was gay. He didn't say any of the true things.
He didn't mention the blue room or the blankets on the floor orI love youorI think we can make this work.He didn't say any of the things that were more true than anything else. He just made me the story. And then he stepped back and let the story do the rest, let the story get out of control. It worked.
Of course it worked.
Marcus Hale was the star captain they’ve known for years, and I was just a loner with an attitude problem and no one in my corner and the math was extremely simple. Everyone did it fast.
I'm gay. I'm the problem. I was pushing myself on Marcus.
It started with Tommy. Locker room. Monday morning.
Almost friendly, if you didn’t know any better.
