Page 12 of Reckless On Ice

“You would pick Rainbow Road,” I say before I can stop myself.Fuck, Ryder, be a nice guy.Quick, I have to find a way to retract. “You know all the stupid shortcuts on this track,” I add.

“Just for that, you get to be Princess Peach,” he says, selecting Wario.

“Fuck your Peach, I’m picking Yoshi, he’s better.” Honestly, Yoshi is a balanced choice that will help me since it’s been so long since I’ve played.Wait, did I just make an ass-play joke without realizing it?I’m worse than I thought. Knox thankfully either doesn't notice or lets it go.

The game starts, and while it’s just a game, there’s no such thing as casual for me. I play to win, and my competitive nature is in high gear from the countdown. But I’m rusty. It’s been years since I’ve played this dumb game, and I’m used to my Xbox. The stupid Nintendo controller has the buttons in weird spots that are messing me up. Knox gets a lead right off the bat, but I get some bombs that wreck him, which allows me to get ahead. I chirp him mercilessly every time I fire off a shot that kicks his ass, making sure he knows I can keep up and keep him humble.

We go back and forth, but I manage to get the better power-ups and keep him from getting too much of an advantage. He swears whenever I send him off the track or spin him out. I’m enjoying my last lap to victory when Knox takesa fucking hidden shortcut I forgot about that puts him out ahead of me, right in front of the finish line, and he yeets me off the fucking track into rainbow space and wins the damn race.

“Take that, cocksucker! Even after you blew me up and threw bananas at me, I still won,” he gloats, whooping and doing some ridiculous celly dance that actually looks smooth because, of course, it does. There’s not much Knox does that doesn’t look effortless and perfect. “That’s what you get for hitting me with that blue shell on the apex. How’s that dick taste now, loser?” He throws his controller at me and laughs.

I toss my controller on the floor and dig my fingers into my hair at his taunts. It’s too much to be on the other side of the gay digs that take me right back to high school and put me into the irrational frame of mind that ruined our friendship to begin with. Heat courses through my blood, anger vibrating along every nerve until I feel raw, exposed, and so full of hate that the insults build too fast to even think about what I say. Everything just comes out like word vomit before I can stop the tidal wave of loathing. I turn to Knox and lash out with all the frustration I’ve been keeping at bay while trying to prove I can be nice.

“That’s such a butt pirate move taking that gay-ass shortcut. You couldn't even make it a fair race, you had to take the back door at the last minute, like the fucking perv you are. Now you’re a sore winner and want me to suck your dick, too, queer boy?”

Knox stops celebrating and goes eerily still, his shoulders swelling with anger as he levels me with a seething glare and I know I fucked up. He points a finger at my face, and it takes everything in me not to move away from the powerful hand that is shaking in indignation.

“See, that shit right there is what we need to fix. It doesn't matter how angry or frustrated you are, you can’t make comments like that.” He drops his hand and turns toward me, his coaching voice fully engaged, and I know I’m in for one of his stupid sensitivity lessons. “You need to learn how to master your emotions and get over this immature reaction of lashing out with what you think is the most hurtful thing you can say. Because honestly, it’s not as bad as you think. Queer people have taken that word back and celebrate it now.”

I scoff at his reasoning, looking for anything to throw at him to help shield me from the inadequacy that settles on me without knowing why. I hate it. “The only reason you'd know what queer people celebrate is because you’re…oh, shit.” I stop talking, knowing I’ve said too much once again.

He swallows, meeting my eyes. There’s so much conviction and courage in those espresso depths, replacing the anger that’s quickly fading. It makes me fucking uncomfortable. I’m squirming in my skin with the turn this situation took. How were we just playing a damn video game that ended with me running my mouth again and getting grilled by Knox with another one of his annoying lessons?

“So, yeah, I’m queer.” His voice breaks a little on the word,like it’s the first time he’s used it. My heart fucking cracks, the pieces dropping into my stomach as everything I’ve ever known about him experiences a seismic shift great enough to rock me to my core.

“You’re what?” I ask, my voice grating the air. I’m stunned, grappling with the million thoughts blasting through my brain.

He shakes his head and somehow grows more determined, his face set and eyes hard as he stares me down. “You know what, fuck that. I’m fucking gay, Ryder, but I never did anything to make you treat me the way you did back in high school, or even now. So it’s time you learn some self-regulation and respect, and stop using those fucking slurs.”

“Wait…you’re gay? Since when?” I’m numb, the news has shocked the absolute shit out of me. After all my teasing, my taunts, and the bullying we both experienced, I never actuallybelievedhe was gay. He never admitted it. It was just something stupid that kids decided to latch onto because we were such close friends and people suck. I was terrified of people believing I was gay, so I made his life hell, not even thinking hecouldbe gay.

His head drops in defeat like I'm a child who can’t learn his lesson, no matter how many times the teacher tells him. Maybe that’s just it. I’m unteachable. “Yes, I’m gay. I’ve known since I was like eight.”

“But you’re not out,” I say, feeling fucking stupid for stating the obvious, but I need this spelled out in Crayon, apparently.

“I’m not required to make a public statement to be gay, you idiot.” He leans over, rubbing his face as his knee bobs in agitation, like this conversation is making him antsy and he’s ready to be done with it. He drops his elbows to his thighs and lets his head hang so he’s talking to the floor between his feet. His words are low, rumbling when he says, “Who I want to fuck is no one’s business but the person I want to fuck, anyway.”

“But why wouldn’t you say anything?”

He groans and leans back, letting his head fall onto the couch and breathing deeply, scrubbing his hands over his hair before he’s able to look at me again. The memories and pain that are etched across his features when he does tell me what I fear before his words do.

“You made it pretty fucking clear that coming out as an athlete wasn’t an option when you and your buddies bullied me all through high school and treated me like garbage for even thinking I was gay. I knew there was no way I could come out at the professional level and expect to be treated any differently than I was back then.”

I was such a shit, and I ruined this guy’s life even more than I realized. All because I couldn’t handle the crap the same people I sided with put me through, and would have run me out of the hockey program that was my only way out of my hellhole of a life. So I had to drag him through it and make it even worse, just to make it easier for myself. I was a fucking coward. But that's why I did it. Knox has always been the stronger,more emotionally mature of the two of us. I couldn't handle the teasing back then, but I knew…Well, Ithoughthe'd be able to let it roll right off his back, whereas I'd crack under the pressure. I've always cared about what people thought about me, but Knox just lived his life. His unapologetic confidence is one thing that drew me to him in the first place, even as kids.

That, and Knox had a support system to help him deal with it. He has all these siblings he actually liked, and the most caring parents alive. Everyone was always up in each other’s business, and they took care of each other. His mom cooked every night, and everyone always had dinner together, even his father. I had a drunk for a dad who treated me like a punching bag when he remembered I existed, and a mom who escaped Dad’s wrath by staying out of the house as much as possible with the many odd jobs she managed to find, so she was never around to stop him. It’s not like I could have told either of them about what was going on at school. Dad would have called me a fairy boy, one of his favorite insults because of how much time I spent with Knox, and told me I deserved it. Just another thing for him to be disappointed in me about. I was so relieved when he died a few years ago, despite not seeing him since leaving home. Knowing he no longer occupied the same plane of existence made me feel a little better.

Knox shifts, bringing me back to the present, but I’m still stuck, not able to wrap my head around this. “You’ve had girlfriends. You were with Harlowe Sorenson, that social media foodie chef with the thirst traps, a few years ago.”

“Harlowe is one of my best friends. We were together, but I never slept with her. She was the first person I came out to. Not many people know.” He eyes me meaningfully, and I know he’s asking me to keep my mouth shut.

I find it pretty ironic that he would trust me with this information, given the whole reason I’m here in the first place is that I ran my mouth about him being gay when I didn’t even think he was. Fuck, this just got so much more complicated. If I’d known I was potentially outing him, maybe I wouldn't have been so cavalier with what I was saying. I don’t know, but this feels so much bigger now. This whole thing has been too serious for too long, and I need time to process this new information without facing Knox. I have to turn it around for now.

“Is this why you’re so obsessed with me?” I ask, cracking a smile to soften the threadbare joke.

“Oh, fuck off,” he says, throwing a pillow at my head. “You’re not my type.”

I dodge it easily, but stop smiling. “What the fuck, Contraire? I’m everyone’s type.”

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