My hand shoots up in the air. When the moderator notices me, everyone else looks my way.
What the fuck am I doing?
“Troy Frisk,” the moderator says. “Founder of Frisk Sports. It’s a little unusual to take a question from an agent, but it is Troy Frisk after all,” she says, and there’s warm laughter as someone hands me a mic.
I take it, dread sinking in my gut. When I glance over to Mel, she’s already pulled her phone out, recording.
It’s when I look to Orlando, though, that I realize this is right. He shouldn’t be up there dodging questions, and I shouldn’t give anyone a chance to project a lick of shame into the way I’m acting. It’s time I claim the truth, and if Mel thinks a public display is going to get us out of this mess, then I guess that’s the price I’ll have to pay.
“Today,” I say, my voice even and hard, “we just saw an elite team performing at the top of their abilities. Under Zeke’s leadership, every member of the Force excelled.” I swallow, bracing myself, and look right at Orlando, whose eyes are wide and shining with strength. “In the spirit of celebrating, I’d like to end the rumors now and announce that I’m Orlando’s man.”
A surprised murmur works through the crowd, and cameras flash. Eyes locked with Orlando, I continue.
“He’s a brilliant athlete, a kind man, and I’m honored to stand by him. We’ll have a press conference tomorrow to answer any questions, but for now, let’s celebrate the Force bringing the MLS Cup home to Philly where it belongs.”
Orlando’s jaw hangs open. The shock on his face is almost enough to make this entire ordeal worth it. Quickly, though, he recovers himself and leans into the mic.
“Nothing like winning a cup to make your boyfriend act sentimental,” he jokes, and friendly laughter fills the room.
I grip the mic, all eyes still on me. My mind is reeling, but the pure joy on Orlando’s face is enough to ease the anxiety.
We’ve done it. No more hiding. No more secrets. Our future starts today, and we’re setting the terms ourselves.
Zeke takes his own mic to his mouth. “Our star striker might pull a lot of stunts,” he says, glancing at Orlando, “but have you seen that kick?”
Another laugh rolls through the room, landing even better since Zeke is normally such a serious guy. When I catch his eye, he gives me a short nod, and I know that it’s going to work out.
Mel rests her hand on my arm. “Nicely done, old friend,” she says as she puts her phone away. “Now go get your man.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FIVE
ORLANDO
I can’t believe the old grump actually did it.
I’m already riding a high that’s unlike anything I’ve known before. I just played a flawless championship game with a world-class team. We’re going to CONCACAF, I came out of the closet, and now this.
Now Troy Frisk put his money where his mouth is. This is real. He’s my man, and we don’t have to hide it from anyone.
The second the press conference ends, I push my way through the crowd to find him. Troy is there with Mel. She’s busy on her phone, and he’s answering questions from someone, but he extracts himself brusquely and turns to me.
A camera flashes, and it’s not that I’m oblivious to the eyes on us so much as that I don’t give a damn.
My hand lands on his side as I grin at him. “Hey.”
Troy half-smiles. “Hey,” he says, seemingly unfazed by the attention.
“That was pretty cool,” I tell him. “Thanks for doing that.”
“Mel’s idea,” he says with a nod her way.
She looks up. “The people are already loving it on social media. Very nice job handling the coming out, by the way. Finesse on and off the field.”
I chuckle. The relief of being here with Troy and it not being a secret is huge, but a ruckus in the back of the room pulls my attention back to my team.
“Go,” Troy says with a nod. “You need to be with them right now. I’ve got work to do, anyway.”
I nod. It’s hard to pull away from Troy, but the championship win is still pumping in my veins, and the collective energy of the team calls to me.
