“Why did you say all that shit about me?”he says, his words hitting me like a two-footed tackle from behind.I begrudgingly turn to face him.
“What shit?”I ask, knowing full well, but I try to buy myself some time.
“You know, about me being privileged and all that.”
“I didn’t.”I see the cogs begin to turn in his head.
“But ‘the source’—”
“Was bullshit,” I say, resisting the urge to look back at my phone.I don’t want this conversation, as I know where it’s about to lead.
“And why did you do that goal celebration?”
Right on cue.
I suck in a breath, and let it out.“The same reason you dived.”
“I didn’t dive.I tripped,” he says, pleading his innocence.And I want to believe him.I really do.
“You didn’t protest much.”
“Would you?Your team had been given a penalty and you could win the game.Would you then stride up to the ref, with thousands of your fans watching and millions more around the world, and tell them you tripped over your own feet?”
I let this ruminate.My suspicions that he’d been a clumsy mess were true.My silence speaks volumes.
“See, not so easy, is it?”
The room is silent again, and before I think that’s it for the night he says, “I had death threats from that.Supporters from your old club, telling me I should die.”
My jaw goes slack.I had no idea.
“It’s not so bad.First time I went to the field in my platinum blond look, I got some more too.People were posting the pride flag on fire, telling me I’m next.All for themthinkingI’m gay, for having a different hair color.”
“Fuck” is all I can manage.I want to go to him.I want to comfort him, but I’m not strong enough to reach over the bed and hold his hand.I am too weak.
“I’m coming out at the end of the season anyway.This is all part of my plan.The world needs to open its eyes to the future.I look around in the crowd and see happy families.I look at my parents and see happiness.I look at people in the street, and I see people holding hands, kissing in the street.Their hearts are full of love.My heart feels like a ghost town.”
I watch him wipe a tear from his eye.I see his outstretched hand, and I want to hold it.I want to tell him it will be okay, but how can I tell him that when I don’t even know myself if it will be?
Coming out is hard.Coming out while a football prodigy is even harder.
“Sorry,” he says.
“You don’t have to be sorry at all.Not one bit.I’m sorry.I’m sorry for pushing you away.I’m sorry for not reaching out.I’m sorry for not being there for you.”My voice hitches and suddenly I’m crying, and then AJ has his arms around me, and I’m crying into his chest.So much for the strong and silent type.He strokes my hair and kisses my forehead.And I don’t want this moment to end.I want to stay here forever in his arms.Why can’t it be like this?Why do we have to hide away?I’ve lied and hidden parts of myself all my life.I wasn’t true to myself in my teens.Now I’m twenty, and I’m staring at a brick wall.All my fears are lying in the same bed.
But at this moment, I have AJ.And with AJ, I can do anything.
Half Time
The Second Half
Chapter 20
Kyle
The room is abuzz with the press.Flashing lights from cameras are going off every few seconds.My heart is beating against my ribcage, and yet—and yet—I’m feeling okay because AJ is right next to me.He’s flashing his winning smile, and everyone is loving him.I don’t know how he can turn on the charm so easily.the boss, Mr.Henrick Muller, is on the other side of me in a suit that wouldn’t look out of place in a boardroom.
“Kyle, you have hit tremendous form and you have now been called up to play for the national side.How does this make you feel that you get to share this with your childhood friend?”
