"You text him. You say, 'Hey, babe, I'm here when you're ready to talk.' You give him space but remind him you exist. You don't" he grabs my shoulders, "let him push you away because he's scared."
"How do you know he's scared?"
"Because baby gay, we're all scared. Every queer person is terrified all the time. We just hide it under good hair and better attitudes." He pulls me into a surprisingly strong hug. "You're doing great, sweetie. Just keep showing up."
He releases me and stands, smoothing down his crop top. "Now, I must go corrupt the young. Gender studies waits for no one." He leans down and plants a kiss on my cheek that definitely leaves lipstick. "But I'm around if you need me, baby gay. Auntie Sylas takes care of her own."
"Thanks," I manage, weirdly touched.
"Thank me by not fucking this up. That boy is too pretty to be single." He sashays away, calling over his shoulder, "And wipe that lipstick off before practice unless you want to explain Sylas's Scarlet Seduction to your teammates!"
I laugh, pulling out my phone. My reflection shows a perfect red lip print on my cheek.
Me: Hey Doc.I'm here when you're ready to talk. No pressure. Just... I'm here.
Send.
I wipe off the lipstick, mostly, and head to practice, feeling lighter than I have all day.
Maybe Sylas is right. Maybe we're all just scared idiots doing our best.
Time to go hit things and pretend I understand football while my brain replays every word Doc said, looking for clues.
Being gay is complicated.
Doc's smile flashes through my head. Then his laugh, and how I love talking to him and yeah… his body feels amazing when it rubs against mine.Worth it!
Chapter 21
The Pasty Ass Incident
Gavin
The locker room smells like it always does, sweat, grass, and whatever the fuck they use to clean the floors that never actually cleans anything. I'm pulling off my practice jersey when Bradley starts up.
"Swear to god, this team's getting gayer by the day." He's laughing like it's the funniest shit he's ever said, slapping his thigh for emphasis. "Next thing you know, they'll be installing rainbow lockers and making us sing show tunes in the shower."
A few guys chuckle, but it's... off. Wrong. Like when someone drops a massive fart in an elevator, and everyone's pretending they can't smell it while slowly dying inside. The laughter dies quickly, leaving this weird, uncomfortable silence that feels heavy.
I look around the room, really look. Body language tells stories people don't even know they're writing. Devin's jaw is clamped so tight I'm surprised his molars haven't cracked. His shoulders are rigid, the way they get right before he explodes on someone during practice.
Omar's aggressively untying his cleats, yanking at the laces like they personally offended him, his usual easy smile nowhere to be found. Even Wyatt, who usually laughs at everything frombad dad jokes to guys eating shit on the practice field, is staring at his locker like it holds the fucking secrets of the universe.
Huh. Not just me who's tired of this shit.
The realization hits me in a way I didn't see coming. All this time, I thought I was the only one cringing when Bradley opened his mouth, the only one who wanted to tell him to shut the hell up.
But looking around this room, seeing the tension in everyone's shoulders, the way conversations just... stop when he starts talking, turns out I'm not alone.
"Cool it with that shit, Bradley." My voice comes out calmer than I feel.
Bradley turns, eyebrows raised. "What? It's just locker room talk, man. Unless..." His face twists into an ugly sneer. "Oh shit, are you one of them? A fucking fairy?"
The word hits different now. Used to slide right off, background noise in a lifetime of casual homophobia. Now it sticks to my skin like tar.
"When did this team get so PC?" Bradley's on a roll now. "Can't say shit anymore without someone crying about their feelings. Fags everywhere, ruining football?—"
He doesn't get to finish that sentence.
