“Stephen, great game, can you describe how you’re feeling right now?”
“Honestly, I’m over the moon,” I say, so many cameras are in my face I don’t know where to look. “I don’t think I could have dreamed of a better first game.”
“Fans are already talking about you going all the way to the Super Bowl, what do you think your chances are?”
“Well, this was our first pre-season game, we’re obviously feeling strong and confident, but at this point all the teams will be, we can’t underestimate anyone.”
“Your father is still known as one of the greatest players of all time, how did it feel to have him in the stands tonight? Is there a friendly rivalry between you both when it comes to your career?”
I take a breath and remember Mindy’s training. “Having him and my mom in the stands was incredible, I got my love for this sport from him, and he’s always been my biggest supporter. So no, no rivalry.” I flash my smile at the end, remembering what Mindy said about using it.
“Stephen, you probably haven’t had a chance to see this yet, but during the game, an article was released discussing your sexuality, citing multiple sources that confirm you are in fact gay. What is your response to that and do your coaches and teammates know?”
Gasps and murmurs rise from the other reporters, and flashes from cameras blind me. My smile has probably turned to a grimace. All of Mindy’s training has vanished from my head, instead my heart is practically in my throat, or is that bile, I feel like I’m going to be sick.
“Um… sorry… what?” I manage to croak out.
“Your sexuality,” the reporter says. “Multiple sources have confirmed that you’re gay.”
“I… uh… no, no I’m not gay.” I panic, letting the words fall from my mouth, not knowing what to do. It’s getting harder to breathe, it feels like the reporters are closing in on me.
“So you’re straight?”
“I… um… football, I’m here to talk about football—”
My words keep getting cut off as more questions are fired at me about my sexuality, asking if I have a boyfriend, asking if I know someone called Kyle Griffin, asking if my teammates know…
“Everyone, please!” Mindy’s voice stands out amongst the reporters as she reaches my side. “As Stephen has said, he’s here to talk about football and the incredible win our team just had. Scoring three touchdowns during his first game is not something to be ignored, but I’m afraid our time is up today.”
She leads me through the reporters, all still firing questions at me. I follow her blindly, my mind reeling from what just happened. I’m gently guided to a chair, and a bottle of water is given to me with instructions to drink.
“I need to go and deal with this,” she says, but it’s not directed at me, there’s someone else in the room. “Other players are being asked about it and it’s probably going to reach Marcus and Coach Matthews on the podium. Will you stay with him?”
Whoever she’s talking to must agree, because a door opens and closes as she leaves, but I can’t tear my eyes from the floor…
Blue fifty-four… vegas… wing right… green ninety-nine… trap… odd number… ace left… white thirty-six… dash… even number… right… dash right… pink ten… omaha double switch… blue fifty-four… vegas…
“Stephen, drink some water.” Ted’s calm voice fills the space.
I look up at him but he’s all blurry, only realizing then that my eyes are full of tears. They escape with a sob, the overwhelm finally hitting me, to go from such an extreme high to that… it’s too much. I let my head drop into my hands, and the tears fall. It’s over, it’s all over.
Ted sits with me, his hand resting on my shoulder while I cry quietly.
“Did you hear all that?” I ask, my voice is weak and trembling.
“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you anything. Your sexuality is none of my business, it’s nobody’s business but yours.”
“I guess everyone heard it.”
He sighs, “I’m not going to lie to you, that was a live broadcast, so yeah, a lot of people heard it. But for the record, the reporters are assholes, and they come across like assholes, ambushing you like that.”
“I don’t understand where it all came from, they said something about an article… Who would write that?” I shake my head, trying to figure out how the hell this happened.
“I don’t know. They mentioned a name, Kyle, does that mean anything to you?”
Red clouds my vision and anger builds in my stomach, it’s unlike anything I’ve felt before. Fucking Kyle.
“I know him,” I say, “he was an asshole to my friend, and I punched him, broke his nose.”
