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"And it's messing with my head, you know? I value what we have online, but now things feel... complicated." I wet my lips. "Because if it is who I think, then I've basically been lying to him since I figured it out."
Which, admittedly, was pretty much a week ago. Still feels shitty.
I’m tense as fuck as I wait for Deck's reaction. He pedals silently for a minute, mulling it over.
"Well, you said you think it might be someone you know. But you don't actually know for sure, right?" Leave it to Warren Decker to zero in on the crux of my issue.
I rake a hand through my damp hair. "I mean, no. It's just a suspicion based on things he's said."
Deck nods. "Then maybe don't jump to conclusions yet. Keep talking to the guy. See if you can get more solid proof before saying anything."
I chew my lip. He has a point. "But don't you think that's kind of... unethical? If I really believe it's someone I know, then I'm basically lying to him by not saying anything."
At this, Deck shoots me a look before shaking his head. "No, you're right. If you truly think this online guy is someone in your life, you shouldn't keep talking to him that way. It'd be dishonest, man."
His blunt words hit me squarely in the chest. Deck just put into words what I’ve been worried about. Can I really continue my chats with FallingDown, believing he's London, while hiding my identity? The thought makes shame crawl up my spine.
Deck seems to read my inner conflict. "Look Riot, I don't know the full story here. But if your gut is telling you this online thing feels wrong, maybe it's time to come clean. To him and yourself."
I stare down at the blinking console, resentment and guilt churning inside me. I'm feeling pretty upset about losing my go-to person in FallingDown. Deck is right, and I feel bad about it. I've been acting like a jackass ever since I started suspecting that my online buddy and London might be one and the same by not confronting London about it. But I didn’t want to mess with whatever it is he is to me.
Rival?
Teammate?
Crush?
…Boyfriend?
Our cycling tempo gradually slows as we cool down. Deck slaps me on the back before dismounting. "You'll figure this out, man. Just listen to that little voice telling you what's right."
I force a tight smile as he walks off. If only it were that easy. Right now, the voice inside me is a conflicting mess of fear, desperation, and frustration.
With a deep exhale, I climb off the bike on unsteady legs. I came here hoping for answers, but now I'm more confused than ever.
For now, all I can do is take a step back from FallingDown. I might be wrong, but until I know for sure, I need to do this. To turn this delicate new connection with London into something genuine, with no secrets holding us back.
I know eventually I'll have to confront him with the truth. Risk fracturing the very connection I'm trying so hard to build. But today, I just need to stop answering FallingDown’s messages and focus on London in real life.
Showered and changed, I exit the gym into the chilly afternoon. Students rush by on their way to class or meals, oblivious to my inner crisis. I check my phone reflexively. No new messages from FallingDown.
I shove it back into the pocket of my hoodie, fingers itching to type out a message of my own. To just spill all my secrets and suspicions the way I have for the last five years. But I resist.
However this plays out, I know things will never be the same between us. The only question is whether the truth will bind us tighter or shred the fragile bonds we've started to build.
I tip my face up to the muted winter sun. Inhale the crisp air, hoping it will shock some clarity into my messy thoughts. But the cold does little to numb the ache. FallingDown's friendship helped with the constant loneliness and knowing I might lose that it a tough thing to accept. But if I’m right and I get Riot in my everyday life, maybe it won’t be such a huge blow.
Clenching my jaw, I start the trudge back to my apartment. Back to London, who’s oblivious to the hurricane he's stirred in me.
I have no idea what the future holds. But I have to believe that somehow, some way, the truth will guide me through. Even if it burns everything down first.
I find London sprawled on the couch, notes scattered around him. He glances up with a distracted smile that makes my chest constrict. Goddamn, he’s hot with his gray sweats low slung on his hips and that fucking hat turned backwards on his head.
"Hey. How was the gym?"
"Same old." I slump next to him, needing his warmth to unscramble my thoughts. When I’m touching him, everything feels so clear. "You studied through lunch again, huh?"
London lifts his hat and rakes both hands through his messy hair. "Yeah, I'm so damn behind already. Coach wants to meet about changing up my conditioning routine too."
