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CHAPTERFOUR
Asher
Eli melting down is not how I expected to see him for the first time in six years. I’ve missed him every fucking day. Hated myself for walking away, but I had to. He deserves better than who I was, and I can’t ask him to hide who he is for my career. While the world is getting more accepting, it only takes one convincing homophobe to turn a locker room toxic. Mob mentally takes over, and I would be attacked, either physically or mentally, and they would fuck with me on the field. I can’t afford that.
Luckily, our team staff was able to get the situation with the reporters under control really quickly, telling them it was a fan who had a panic attack, nothing to write home about. I’m sure there were some actual fans who saw it or even recorded it; my boy having a meltdown and wrapping himself around me. I’m hoping for once they keep it to themselves. It’s doubtful, but nothing has gone viral or been brought to my attention yet.
I wasn’t expecting my career to take off as soon as it did. My rookie year, the team was crippled by injuries and left without many options, so I was sent out to play. And I kicked ass. I’ve been kicking ass since. For four years, I’ve been better than the year before. I know my time is limited, and at some point, my body will give out or I’ll get injured, and it’ll all be over. I’m doing everything I can to be smart and stay in shape, but every year that I have to hide who I am is harder to swallow than the last.
I identify as bi, but I’ve never had anyone make me feel the way Eli does. It’s only ever been Eli. Like I’m Eli-sexual or something. I’ve known since I was thirteen that he was it for me. While I find some men physically attractive, I don’t let myself explore it. I guess it’s my punishment for leaving. I don’t allow myself to have what I could have had with him.
It gutted me to go, to not answer his calls or texts, but I’m the reason his brother is dead. I couldn’t tell him that. I couldn’t take the look on his face when he realized it was my fault.
If I’m being really honest with myself, tonight I wanted to touch him before I told him about Marcus. I lost a boy I considered my brother that night, my best friend, and I had to walk away from the boy who filled the cracks in my soul with his goodness and light.
I’ve ruined him. Today was proof of that. I’ve never seen him like that, so broken. Add that to the list of things I’ve fucked up.
Staring out the bus window on our way back to San Diego, my knee is bouncing while I replay the few minutes I had with him through my head on repeat. The way he clung to me.
“Hey.” My teammate, Aaron, bumps my knee, and I pull my AirPod out of my ear.
“What?” I snap at him, though it’s not his fault I’m angry.
“Who was the chick today?”
“Jordan? She’s friends with someone I used to know.” The confused look on his face has me stopping from putting the pod back in my ear. “What?”
“Not the pink-haired chick, the one who wrapped themselves around you like an octopus.”
I blink at him for a minute. Do I lie and let him believe it was a girl, or do I correct him and have him question my sexuality? The locker room isn’t too bad with homosexual bias, but it isn’t exactly queer-friendly either. I’ve worked very hard to keep a straight image, to not give anyone a reason to question it.
He looks at me expectantly, and even though it physically hurts, the words fall from my lips so much easier than they should.
“El,” I tell him and hate myself for it. “Been a long time since we saw each other.”
He nods. “She live in LA? You should send her tickets for a game.” I have to force myself not to cringe at the misgendering of Eli. Shame turns my stomach sour, and I work to keep it off my face.
“Good idea,” I tell him and turn back to my phone to hide the guilt and anger coursing through me. I need to get fucked up tonight, or I’m going to explode.
“You ever get with her?” Aaron asks a few minutes later.
“What? Why?” Dread sinks into my stomach like a lead weight. Even I can tell my eyes are too wide.
“Every girl I’ve seen you go after looks like her. Slim, curly blonde hair.” He shrugs and watches me as I stumble over that bomb he just dropped.
Do I really do that? Yeah, I like small blonde girls, but it has nothing to do with Eli.Does it?
“I’ve never thought about it, I guess,” I finally answer. In my head, I flip through the girls I remember, and fuck if he isn’t right. It’s rare for me to date anyone who doesn’t look like him. Slim, not curvy, curly light hair.Fuck.
As the bus makes its way down the freeway, I pick apart that fact and hate myself a little more. Since I couldn’t have him, I found girls who looked like him. They were as close to him as I could get, probably another way to punish myself.
More times than I want to admit, I think about him while I fuck them too.
I scrub a hand down my face and send another text message to Eli.
ASHER: Eli, please talk to me.
The icon updates, saying it’s been read, but he doesn’t respond. Goddamn it!
