Two, I hadn’t actually come out, per se. So, if by some freakish chance he lost his phone and someone read our exchange while figuring out who the hell I was, nothing would get out.
And three… for the first time in eight years, I felt like I could truly breathe. It was a taste of what it could be like living authentically, being my true self, out in the world without giving a shit what the gossip rags, fans, or the management would say. It was as liberating as it was terrifying.
For now, as I clung to my bottle of water, looking out across the lit city and the moon’s dancing rays on the lake, I chose to latch on to the former.
What I wouldn’t give to be liberated.
What I wouldn’t do to have the guts to say screw it all and shout to the world I loved me some D.
I snorted as the thought filtered through me, amused at the possibility of “D.” An errant thought traveled to Nate, sure he would piss himself laughing and rib me something rotten for spouting on about liking the D. With that thought came the slap of reality. Nate Griffin was gay. Right?
There were times I could get so caught up in my own world and own head that I could miss the blatantly obvious stuff. I wasn’t arrogant enough to think otherwise. But Nate choosing to share with me the bar’s name had to be his invitation for me to check the shit out of it. I always had… done research, that was. While I sometimes missed the obvious, share something with me that I didn’t know, hadn’t heard of, and I’d google the crap out of it.
Nate had ribbed me often enough when we were kids about that. There was no way he’d forget.
So of course I’d researched Bar QK. When I had, and the gallery had popped up, color me fucking surprised. I’d spent about half an hour poring over images, practically inhaling the write-up and the various pages, and had come away shell-shocked. Right alongside that open-mouthed amazement that such a place existed not too far from where I was brought up, an honest-to-God sucker punch had hit me in the solar plexus.
Nate was gay, or maybe bi, or at least not straight.
I thought.
Hoped.
I had dreamed about the truth of those words since I was eighteen, and while those dreams hadn’t ridden me hard the last few years due to my blocking the man from my life as well as my mind, the truth was, he was still there, buried under my skin, alongside what I’d thought was a futile hope.
I huffed out a heavy breath that carried a touch of laughter.
That text I’d sent him had been frantic, automatic after my research. There wasn’t a chance I couldn’t send it. By doing so, it felt like I’d changed everything…, but, I thought with a sobering swallow, I hadn’t really changed anything at all.
I was still here, doing what I loved, playing the game, chasing the dream, or one version of it. The thing was, the other version was the one I’d tried my hardest to bury. Yet here it was, breaking free like some sort of zombie or vampire or some shit, crawling from solid earth after it had punched its way out of the coffin.
God, I needed something stronger to drink. When I started comparing my dreams to an episode ofBuffy the Vampire Slayer, shit had seriously gotten off track.
As I made my way back inside, a quick glance at the time told me what I should be doing was heading to bed. It was only just gone nine, but my alarm was set for five thirty so I could fit a run in before training. We had a big game tomorrow, and like every other game, I needed to be focused.
Heading to bed rather than grabbing a glass of whisky, I glanced at my phone and read my last text. I expected Nate would be freaking out, which led me to wonder a whole lot more about Nate and his life.
Me: Nate’s gay?
I paced the room, waiting for my sister to pull her finger out and text me back already. The couple of minutes felt like a million with how long she took. I’d hesitated a beat before sending the message, that slight concern about outing someone. A moment later, I’d dismissed the idea. My sister was nothing if not tenacious. If Nate was not straight, she would absolutely know about it.
Amber: And?
And?Was she serious? I flopped back heavily on my bed, pissed at my sister being facetious while my fast heartbeat started up again. She hadn’t challenged, hadn’t said no.
It was true.
Right?
Me: Why wouldn’t you tell me?
Amber: Why would I? I don’t go around telling you about people’s sexuality. That’s just weird. Hey, Ryan, my friend Pippa is straight. I repeat… and? What of it? And more to the point, why would I out someone?
I hesitated and hung my head, feeling like a prick for sending her the message in the first place.
Me: Just came as a surprise, is all. Heading to bed.
I had no idea if the brush-off would work, but a man could hope.
