But we both know he’s not gonna bench me. Not today. Not onthisday. It’s game time.Thegame time. The biggest fucking game of my career. At least until now.
And yeah, I know I said that last year too, when we made it all the way to the finals. I remember the fire, the hunger, the sweat. I also remember the sting when we lost. I don’t wanna jinx it by calling this our redemption arc, but it kinda is. Feels like it.
Normally I’d be throwing up in my helmet by now. Nerves coiled so tight in my gut I’d barely be able to think straight. All the pressure, the expectations, everything I’ve carried inside me for months should be crashing down on me right about now.
But it’s… quiet. Peaceful, even.
My head isn’t spinning. My heart’s not racing. There’s this strange, steady calm washing over me, like all the noise finally shuts the fuck up. Like everything I’ve done to get here—every pass, every bruise, every damn early morning workout—finally matters. Like I’m ready.
Really fucking ready.
Hedid that.
And I’m not even talking about the incredible dick-down I got this morning, which, yeah, absolutely helped. Loosened me up in more ways than one. Settled something in me. Grounded me.
But it’s more than that.
I’m in a good place.We’rein a good place. The best place.
Everything that’s happened these past few months shaped the hell out of me. It burned me down and rebuilt me in ways I didn’t even see coming.
And now that the dust’s finally settled, now that things arequietfor once, there’s one thing I kept coming back to. One thought that looped over and over again these last few weeks, until my brain went fucking numb from overthinking it.
It’s that I made up my mind. I’m done hiding. I’m ready to make this shit public. All of it.
Us.
Because I love him. Because I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. And I know, God, Iknow, he’s ready too.
“You sure about this?” Rafa asks when I corner him by the lockers, holding out my hand for the thing I asked him to buy this morning. The same damn thing he’s had with him every game, even though he’s been mostly benched this season.
“Oh, I’m so ready. Gimme.”
He doesn’t question me further. Just drops it in my hand, and I waste no time pulling it on. It’s a rainbow-colored sweatband, a copy of the one he always wears onhiswrist, now sliding snugly around mine. And fuck, I smile at it. It’s simple. But loud in its own way.
Yeah, I know it’s a statement. I know people might read it wrong, assume I’m just trying to be a good ally or whatever. But this? This isn’t performative. It’s not empty.
It’s the first fucking step.Mystep. In the right direction. Toward something bigger. Something true.
I’ve really made up my damn mind. This is my last college game. My final shot. My legacy moment. And I want to play it asme. Fully. Openly. Honestly. No more compartments. No more hiding.
If the recruiters, the scouts, the team agents are watching, then let them watch. Let them see me for exactly who I am. Because I’m not bending myself into something more “marketable” or “neutral” or “palatable” anymore.
I want to be picked by a team that knows me,reallyknows me, andstillwants me. Not despite who I am. Butincludingall of it.
So yeah. I’m going to do this. Scrutiny be damned. Jace will pull me through it.
I’m stepping onto that field as Tyler King. Quarterback. Leader. Queer asfuck. And not ashamed of a single second of it.
Oh shit. We did it.
I’m frozen, staring at the far end of the field where Lamar’s getting absolutely buried under a screaming, heaving pile of our teammates after that unreal touchdown. They’re yelling their fucking lungs out, celebrating like it’s the goddamn Super Bowl.
We did it.
In a daze, I rip off my mercifully vomit-free helmet and drag a hand down my sweaty face, lips catching on the rainbow band around my wrist. I press a kiss on it without thinking. That thing’s staying with me. Every game from now on.
We fucking did it.
