“Right,” I said. So, we were done. That conversation hadn’t taken long enough to justify leaving the class. The professor had said it would be rude of us not to come back.
“Anyway,” Keaton said, and I realized he wasn’t done at all. “They’ll tell people. Before you know it, the whole college will know. And not just the college – the whole world. Anyone who cares enough to know your name.”
I shrugged. “I know.”
“How can you be so calm?” Keaton gaped. “You’reout. You’re an out football player.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
Keaton shook his head wordlessly.
I sighed. “So what?” I asked. “Shouldn’t there be more? I’m not the only college player.”
Keaton looked at me in surprise. “There are other gay players at your level?”
I nodded. “I looked it up.” Most of them had done interviews with magazines or local newspapers where they were praised for their bravery. It didn’t seem much like bravery to me. Playing football when everyone knew you were gay was small. What Keaton did, coming out to his violent father – that was big. Stepping into the locker room again after he got attacked there was big.
Daring to be around me and not be afraid I was going to hurt him all the time was big.
Keaton ran his hands through his messy curls. They sprang back into place when his hands were gone. “This will change everything for you,” he said. “You know that, right? It could affect your future career. I think you’re being naïve.”
I looked him in the eye. “I wouldn’t want to play for a team that wasn’t comfortable with an out player.”
“Even so…” Keaton sighed. “It might not be the team that struggles. It could be the sponsors. Your fellow players. The fans…”
I shook my head. “Why are we talking about this?” I asked. “What’s done is done. What will be will be.”
“I just don’t know how you can be so calm about something that could affect your future career,” Keaton said.
I looked down at my own hands. Keaton was such a good person. He’d seen me play one game and had apparently decided I was going to be a living legend. I didn’t think he could even comprehend the possibility that I wasn’t as amazing as his documentary made me out to be.
“I’m only good enough for a partial scholarship,” I said. “I already got injured before even playing my first game. Even if I do well enough over the next couple of years to attract a team’s attention, I have question marks over my head. I probably won’t ever get picked up by a team.”
“But you’re a good player,” Keaton protested.
“Even so,” I told him. “You have to be great – brilliant – to make it.”
Keaton bit his lip and nodded. I could tell he was sad. He wanted everything to go well for me. I understood that.
“Besides,” I said, making him look up. “I won’t need to be a famous football player.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“Because you’re going to be a famous filmmaker,” I grinned. “And you’ll make enough money for the both of us.”
And when he laughed and accepted what I said instead of balking at it, I had a flare of hope that he believed we might be together for that long, too.
He settled down slowly, looking at his hands for a moment. “And what about… us?”
I eyed him with my head tilted. “What about us?”
He flushed red. “Are we… I mean…” he swallowed and seemed to change direction. “Are you okay with people knowing about us?”
I nodded simply.
He looked up and I realized he hadn’t seen.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m fine with that.”
