Page 50 of Tough Guy and the Show Off

“See you later, Trav.”

I turn to walk to TSA, glancing back once to see Trav still standing there. He gives me a sad little wave and my heart sinks. Fuck, I’m gonna miss him. Do I even know how to play without Trav anymore? What if I fuck up and Chicago ends up trading me again. I could end up in LA or Canada, far away from Trav.

I shake the thoughts away. No sense making my anxiety worse with hypotheticals. I have to play well. Trav would want that for me, just like I want the same for him.

Finally settled on the plane, I stare out at the Boston skyline, the harbor, the Common, knowing it’s no longer home for me.

It’s where Travis lives.

Without me.

TWENTY-FOUR

SHOW

I don’t have the first fucking clue what to do with myself now that Beau’s gone. I wander around my apartment for a while. It’s not like he was at my place twenty-four-seven or anything, but somehow knowing he’s not right across the hall makes the whole place feel quiet and empty, like a mausoleum or some shit.

We don’t have a game tonight, so I don’t even have that distraction to look forward to. Beau does though. The official announcement hit social media about twenty minutes after I dropped him off at the airport, and he’ll be suiting up in a Huskies’ jersey in about eight hours. I haven’t bothered to check the comments from the fans yet or even flip on any of the sports news channels to see the reactions. I already know that Magic fans will be losing their shit and Huskies fans will be celebrating, and none of it makes one goddamn bit of difference to me at this point.

Fuck it, I need to do something other than sit around here and mope all goddamn day.

I grab my gym bag and stuff fresh gym clothes inside. I don’t want to deal with any of my teammates right now, so I opt for the gym down the block from my place rather than making the trek to the arena.

The beefed-up guy who works the front counter greets me with an up-nod. “Just saw the news about Bozy. It fucking sucks.”

“Big, fat donkey dicks,” I agree, swiping my membership card and heading for the locker room.

I’ve been in millions of locker rooms over the years, but with everything that happened with Beau so fresh, it feels… different. Like suddenly I’m extremely aware of other men’s naked bodies. A guy who looks like he’s probably in his forties with just a little bit of gray hair peppering his dark chest hair strides confidently bare assed down the aisle with his skin wet from the shower and his towel slung over his shoulders. His dick is soft, but he’s definitely a show-er, swinging that thing around without even trying.

My body heats and I quickly look away, focusing on the empty locker a few feet away.

It’s not like I’m trying to perv on the guy or anything, it’s just all of a sudden I can’t stop myself from noticing. I guess I’m going to go ahead and have my sexual identity crisis at the same time as Beau, except instead of doing it on a plane, I’ll be dealing with it right here at the gym. Why do I get the feeling that’s probably not uncommon?

I keep my head down while I change my clothes, then I stuff my phone into my pocket, grab my water bottle, and head out to hop on the stationary bike for my warm-up. It feels a lot less creepy to let my eyes wander a little bit out here where everyone is fully clothed… and sweaty… and grunting…

Yeah, I’m definitely not the first guy to question his sexuality at the gym, I’m sure of it.

The thing is, I don’t want to touch any of these guys, not like I want to touch Beau. But I can see the appeal now in a way I never did before. So maybe, theoretically, if Beau didn’t exist, I could find another guy I’d want to pull into my bed and tongue kiss. And I was never faking it with any of the women I hooked up with, I always had a damn good time. I guess that would make me… bisexual?

I roll the word around in my head a little bit, pedaling harder to get my heart rate up and feel the burn in my thighs. It feels weird but not wrong to think of myself as bi. But could I seriously have gone twenty-five years of my life without realizing I’m into guys? Or did seeing Beau with his fingers in his ass that night more than a month ago activate some kind of bisexual sleeper cell in my brain somehow?

The TV mounted on the wall ahead of me is playing a recap of the LA Sharks game against Toronto from last night. They show a replay of the epic save D’Amore made right before the final buzzer that sent the game into overtime and ultimately won the Sharks the game. Dude has fucking skills. One of the Toronto fans seated near the goal presses two middle fingers up against the glass and D’Amore blows him a kiss. I have to admit, he has some goddamn balls, not only being such a shit stirrer, but doing it when he’s only one of a few out players in the league.

My stomach clenches as the reality of everything settles in. Okay, fine, maybe I’m bi and the way I feel for Beau goes way beyond friendship, but I’m not sure that means I want any of that being what the media focuses on when they talk about me. I’m not sure I want the other guys to start acting weird around me in the locker room either.

Still pedaling the stationary bike on autopilot, I pull out my phone without thinking and open TikTok. The first video on my feed is one of Vesper D’Amore’s. It’s a video of him that he must’ve had one of his teammates film during practice, doing some kind of viral dance trend to a Chappell Roan song while wearing his full gear on the ice. It has over a hundred thousand views and most of the comments are either marriage proposals or they’re so vulgar they actually manage to make me blush. I click on his profile and hover my thumb over the message button.

Fuck it.

SHOW: Hey man, sorry I ruined your shutout streak when we played last week.

D’AMORE: No you’re not…

SHOW: ok, yeah, no I’m not.

D’AMORE: Sliding into my DM’s to rub salt in the wounds?

SHOW: No… actually, I had a question if it’s okay?