The running back rolled away, hopped up and threw the ball to the ref. Looking me square in the eyes and with a lop-sided grin, he said, “You’ll never catch me, big boy.” He strutted toward his huddle.
“Fuck.” Planting my hands on my hips, I hung my head. I should have taken him down.
“Dude, that was close.” McCarthy patted my back. “What’s up with you? That should have been a no-brainer.”
“I know. My game is off tonight.” Because my fucking ex from high school, the one I wasn’t man enough to keep, was standing on the sidelines watching my every move. I ambled to the line for another round. Fuck this. I had to pull my head out of my ass.
We’d squeaked out a win,and I lingered in the shower's spray well after everyone had left, mulling over my shitty performance. If Wren were on the Spirit Squad, I’d have to deal with his presence. I had too much riding on this season to let him affect my game.
After shutting off the water, I padded out and dried off, then wrapped the towel around my waist.
“Hey.” Malik Thompson, our first-string running back, stood next to me, his muscled frame filling out his team athletic gear. His brown hair fell across his forehead, and his brown-eyed gaze met mine. “What happened to you out there?”
I scoffed. “Nothing.” I strode toward the lockers. I knew he’d want a better explanation than that.But hell, do I tell him the truth?“I played like shit, is all.” As I passed the long mirror over the sinks, my brown eyes, covered by wet strands of my almost black hair, stared back at me.
Following, he said, “You looked so good at camp, like the best I’ve seen you.”
Stopping at my locker, I dropped the towel, slipped my briefs up my legs and took inventory of the remaining guys. Only a few, and thankfully no one else from our house, but Malik. “Well, can’t always have a great day.”
“Come on, Dawson. You can talk to me. We’re Desert Dogs, remember?” He pulled on my arm, making me face him.
“Yeah, I know.” I pulled my athletic shorts on and shimmied into my shirt. I had to tell him. But would it open a whole can of worms? “My ex somehow appeared on the Spirit Squad.”
“You have an ex?” His brows snapped up, and his wry grin curled his lips. “I’ve never seen you with a boyfriend.”
“He…” I huffed a sigh and sat on the bench, throwing my sneakers and socks on the floor. “He was my high school boyfriend.”
“Okay.” Sitting beside me, he patted my thigh. “What happened, Eli?” He furrowed his brow. “Obviously, seeing him was upsetting.”
“How about we have this conversation over a beer?” I slipped on my socks and shoes and rose. “Four One Four Pizza?” It was our usual hangout if we didn’t hit the gay bar, and who knew where Tex had run off to. I grabbed my duffel.
“Sure.” He stood. “I’ll follow you.”
After leavingour duffels in our cars, we strolled the short distance down Mill Avenue to the pizza, beer and karaoke bar. With my hands stuffed in my pockets, I glanced at the carscreeping along the road and the students milling about in the heat or rushing into the many restaurants and bars lining the sidewalk.
As I looked up, my gaze caught the glass skyscrapers in the distance. There were more of them every year. At some point, downtown Tempe might rival downtown Phoenix with all these buildings.
Malik had kept quiet on our walk.
Biting my lower lip, I peeked at him, his steady presence lumbering beside me. He knew this was serious, since my game had been affected.
He stopped at the glass doors to the bar, tucked inside a two-story brick building. Holding the door open, he said, “After you.”
“Thanks.” I strolled inside, and the aroma of pizza and stale beer hit my senses. College students packed the place as usual, most with pitchers of beer on their tables and some with the remnants of pizza.
A girl butchered a Taylor Swift song in the center of the bar while another girl stood beside her, probably for support.
“Back booth?” Malik narrowed his eyes at me.
“Yeah.” We weren’t here for the festivities, and the back booths were always open. I ambled across a yellow floor with red paint splatters and past dark walls with song lyrics sprawled across them in chalk. The last time I was here with Malik, Casey’s car had broken down in front of a repair shop where he’d met his current boyfriend. What a lucky guy.
I dropped into the booth with Malik falling in beside me. After the server took our beer order, I faced him, propping my elbow on the table and resting my cheek in my hand. Might as well start from the beginning. “The new cheerleader’s name is Wren Lewis. He was my first and only love.”
Malik parted his lips. “Seriously?” As the server dropped off our pitcher, Malik thanked them and poured two beers. “Tell me what happened.” He slid a beer to me while shaking his head. “This story has got to be good. I mean, you’re the guy we always go to for advice, and here you’re the one needing it.”
I huffed a laugh. He was spot-on. “Yeah, guess I do.” I sipped my beer. “I didn’t come out until I left for college.” My chest tightened as the memories flooded through my head. “Wren was out and very proud. He was on the gymnastics team and damn good at it.”
“Okay, so he was out, and you weren’t.” Nodding, he took a few gulps of beer. “First beer after a game is always the best. Especially after a win.” He held his glass toward me.
