He shook his head and drew in one side of his bottom lip, gnawing on the flesh there. “The kiss was amazing.”
My heart flipped at his words, liking them far too much, but the anguish in his eyes snatched at my heart and chained it back. “And you’re not out,” I stated, needing the words out there.
“No.” His voice was quiet, the rasp speaking of probably less sleep than I’d had.
“And do you plan to change that at all?”
He winced, guilt blazing in his eyes. “No, I can’t.” His voice pitched, and I couldn’t simply sit back and let so much hurt spill out unchecked.
“Hey.” I angled forward and reached out, clasping his forearm. “I think I get it, and no one but you should be deciding if and how or when you come out. Is it the work thing?” While my words were simple, I didn’t intend them to be flippant. More than distance separated Ryan’s life from my own. He was a professional athlete, and with that came outside pressure I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.
“The work thing,” he said with a nod, “the whole attention shit. It’s all of it.”
I racked my brain, wondering if there were any out players in the pro basketball league, but honestly, I hadn’t a clue. I’d only followed Ryan’s games over the years and more recently watched them like the hard-core fan I was.
“This is going to sound really dickish, but I need context here.” I smiled when his shoulders relaxed a little and he stopped gnawing on his lip, his mouth twitching. “You being out with your job, would it be like it is in movies and books and stuff?”
The mouth twitch turned into a small smile, though sadness remained on his features. “I suppose it all depends on what movies you’ve been watching or books you’ve been reading.”
I rolled my eyes as the relief that he was joking helped to settle my heart rate.
“You know that dream where you show up at school naked, and you’re in front of the class, and everyone is staring and pointing? Hell, let’s throw in some idiots shouting insults at you while you’re standing there, maybe a few people then following you around, writing about and photographing your every move.”
“All while I’m still naked?” Now I was being flippant, but fuck, his tone had started out light, but as he continued, the waver was there, the stress edging his words.
“Naked,” he confirmed, attempting a smile that looked as uncomfortable as it was odd.
“And they wouldn’t be talking about how impressive my dick was, right?”
Once again, his mouth twitched.
“Okay, so perhaps it’s not that bad. There are some out players in hockey and football, and it’s not like fans in the stadium can get away with chanting slurs or anything. I know club and league policies are supportive, and they come down harshly on homophobia.” He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “In all honesty, this is about me. Who’d have thought I don’t like the spotlight, right?” A humorless laugh escaped him. “I just don’t want the focus on my personal life at all. Don’t get me wrong, on the court, me playing ball is a different story altogether. I can moonwalk like the best of them if I have a shit-hot game.” He shrugged. “I know it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, coming out. I know that. Other pro players have done so and have survived and are playing, but when I think of being that person, that player, I struggle to breathe.”
My expression turned solemn. “I hear what you’re saying. I even get it.” I hesitated and clamped down on words I wasn’t sure would do any good. Because I honestly did understand where he was coming from, but then why the fuck had he kissed me yesterday to only brush me aside when I still felt the heat of his hand on my dick… and I wasn’t referring to the painful squeeze either.
His gaze tracked my face, searching. “I know I should be sorry for kissing you, especially because of the shit thing I said afterward.” I swallowed hard, not sure if I was pissed off or impressed Ryan could read me so damn well. “I’d be so fucking lucky if you were ever more than a friend to me.”
My eyes sprang wide open. Where the hell was all this honesty coming from? It was freaking me out while turning me on and putting pressure on the organ in my chest, threatening more damage.
“I have one more year before I’m a free agent. And I don’t have it in me to come out while playing. It’s cowardly as shit.” I pressed my lips together, wanting to interrupt. Maybe seeing my struggle, he shook his head. “I am. I’m not brave enough to live in the spotlight being a gay man. One more year, and maybe things will be different.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned his contract coming to an end, but thinking of the possibility was just too much, and it was so far away. Anything could happen between now and then.
When he didn’t say anything for a beat or two, I chose my words carefully. “Is that the first time you’ve said you’re gay?”
Ryan cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, to anyone else.”
“And you’re gay, not bi, or pan or—”
“Gay.”
“I think telling me makes you brave.”
“My tongue in your mouth yesterday kinda gave that away though, right?”
I snorted. “Yeah, just a little, and a few things we talked about since getting back in touch.” I had so many questions, which I was sure would take months to answer. Keeping that thought tucked away, I refocused, figuring out how to continue.
First and foremost, Ryan was my friend, and he was terrified and so sad that it burnt through my anger and hurt with a ferocity that surprised me. Those embers of my emotions remained, but for now, I’d dig deep, so fucking deep I’d strain myself if necessary, to push them aside and focus on what my visit was meant to be about.
