I walked over to the other side of the locker room just in time to get a first row view to the guys dropping five gallons of ice-cold water over his head. He skyrocketed up from the bench and spun around like he’d been punched in the back of the head. Everyone laughed and he eventually calmed down enough to realize they were congratulating him – in their own weird, ice-cold way.
When the other guys moved away, Dylan caught sight of me behind them and nodded toward me. That was all we’d relegated to since camp. I walked out of our room once I found out he was gay and I never looked back.
Fucking coward – that’s what I was.
Leave it to Dylan to be the better person. He always had been. “Great game today. A freaking two-hitter. That’s a record for you.” He lightly tapped my left arm, the one that was not currently wrapped in ice.
“Thanks, man. You too. I think they’re still looking for that ball you hit out of the park.” We stood there awkwardly for a few moments, neither one of us sure of what to say. That was when Reid walked up behind us and draped his arms over our shoulders.
“How come I didn’t get an invite to this little reunion, huh?” he joked, a smug-ass look plastered to his face and everything.
Dylan and I shared a sad look. What I hoped would pass for an apology flashed in my eyes. He nodded and in true “guy-code”, we spoke more words than our silence transmitted.
“Nick is having a party at his house tonight since there’s no practice tomorrow morning. You think you two sorry assholes want to join us for once?” Sometimes, I wanted to punch my little brother in the face for his wise-ass attitude, but then I remembered all the times our own father had done that to him.
That always sobered me.
It saddened me more than anything. Hell, it was the main cause of my own depression over the past few months – one I tried so desperately to conceal.
Of late, I was failing miserably at it. My grades had slumped way beyond the C range. I’d lost weight and barely had the strength and endurance to make it through practice six days a week. I’d love to say that my family noticed, but they’d actually have to care first, and let’s face it, that just wasn’t happening.
Reid may have noticed it, but he was fighting his own battles – ones that always involved our father. Deciding to push all of that shit to the back burner for a while was made a lot easier when Dylan chimed in, saying he would definitely be at the party.
With a quick jab, I elbowed Reid in the ribs and laughed as he gasped in feigned shock. “I’ll go, but you better not get so drunk I have to take care of you again.” I shot him a look and he swore he would only have a few drinks.
I knew better. Partying and getting himself lost in whatever flavor-of-the-night he wanted was his way of coping. It was a good thing for both Reid and me that I didn’t drink.
And that I didn’t take part in the all-night girl-fest he did.
Besides, one of us had to come home sober; the other one would need the protection.
A moment later, Reid was dragged away by a few of his friends, divvying up cash to hand over to Nick so his older brother could buy the alcohol.
“I should go get this looked at.” I lifted my arm slightly. Even though the arm didn’t need an ounce of attention whatsoever, I needed to get away from Dylan and his sobering stare. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”
Dylan nodded before I walked away and wordlessly returned his attention to his gym bag and his soaking wet shirt.
A shirt I couldn’t help but peel my eyes away from, something that really fucked with my head. Who the hell had I become? Keeping my sexuality a secret was possible; no one really asked since I was a baseball junkie, figuring I just spent all of my energy on the sport. I made the appropriate comments when the guys talked about a hot girl and learned how to dodge the tough questions about which of those hot girls I’d been with, but it was a small school in a small community, with an even smaller mindset.
Coming out was not an option.
Telling my best friend I had feelings for him was also not an option.
And I was okay with that. At least that was what I kept telling myself. Keeping it all inside was torturous enough, but still possible, as long as I kept to myself. But now, hanging out with Dylan again, even if it was at a party with plenty of other people, made me vulnerable to him.
To myself.
To the truth.
After a quick shower in the locker room, one that I delayed by seeing the trainer for a non-existent shin-splint, I went home, ready to face the angry music of my father.
“Maybe he won’t be home,” Reid offered up pointlessly before we turned down our block. Dad’s shiny, black sedan sat in the driveway – no such luck, I guessed.
I pulled up alongside the curb, not even running the risk of scratching it by parking next to Dad’s precious car. I often wondered if he loved that car more than us. Fuck it; I knew he loved it more than us. He couldn’t bear to see a dent on that, but it never bothered him an ounce to see a bruise on his sons’ faces. Ones that he’d put there.
Fucking asshole.
After he grabbed his bag from the back seat, Reid leaned over the hood of my car, folding his arms atop the roof. “I’m proud of you, bro. You threw a great game today.”
