Page 66 of Second Shot

But it was all an act.

Part of my torture is knowing I can’t even blame him for wanting revenge. I probably deserved this, maybe even worse. When I think about that poor kid in the yearbook photo, chubby and miserable, I understand why he wanted payback. He must have felt powerless back then. So angry.

I’ve been remembering more details from that time in middle school. Details about Gabe. My stomach aches when I think about the way he used to flinch whenever Freddy got too close, or how he’d try to make himself invisible in the hallways. But when that didn’t work, even scared, he always fought back.

Freddy had hated the way Gabe ran his mouth at us, never quite bending a knee. I’d always felt a grudging respect that he didn’t grovel, but it had made Freddy even crueler. I remember wishing Freddy would lay off and findsomeone else to bully, but Gabe’s defiance had given Freddy a hard-on for him. He’d been his favorite target. And I’d joined in because I’d been a coward.

I deserve every horrible thing that’s coming my way.

I fall into a drunken stupor, the booze pumping through my veins like a sleeping drug. My dreams are chaotic and full of Gabe. I’m so deeply unconscious I don’t even shift. When I finally wake, my muscles are stiff and aching from staying in the same position for hours. My head is pounding, and my mouth tastes like packing tape glue. The room is dark so the game must be over by now. I wonder if we won or lost.

We? Am I even a part of the team anymore?

When my phone buzzes, I lift my head, staring through bleary eyes at the screen. There are more missed calls and a recent text from Niko.

Niko: Dude, we missed you tonight.

I stare at that text without blinking for so long my eyes tear up. Niko’s a great guy. He’s been texting me many times a day since the story broke about Freddy. He’s come by a few times, but I haven’t opened the door. The longer I don’t see humans the easier it gets to ignore them. But I do feel kind of bad about ignoring Niko.

My thoughts once more drift back to Gabe. They always drift back to him. I’m still bewildered why Gabe would have reached out for Freddy’s help to bring me down. Freddy was the one who’d always put me up to bullying Gabe. There’s no way Gabe didn’t know that. Why would Gabe want anything to do with Freddy? Why come after me, but not Freddy? Those aggravating thoughts circle round and round in my brain. There are no answers for me, but I can’t stop picking at them like a scab.

How long had they been planning this? Did it start the moment Gabe saw my name on the trade roster? Did he volunteer to be my on the road roommate specifically so he could get close to me? Every memory feels tainted now. Our first practice together, the way he gradually warmed up to me, the night he brought me to his house and cooked for me like he actually cared. The way he touched me like I was something precious instead of someone who’d spent years making his life hell.

But maybe that was part of it too. Maybe the sex was just another way to humiliate me, to make me feel safe and wanted before pulling the rug out from under me in the most public way possible.

My phone rings. The caller ID shows Foster’s name, and I let it go to voicemail. Niko probably put him up to that. Well, it won’t work.I don’t want to talk to anyone on the team yet. Can’t handle their sympathy or their anger or their confusion about what the hell is happening. Don’t want to explain how I fell in love with someone I used to torment, but was too stupid to recognize that same victim when he was lying naked in my bed.

The whiskey is making everything fuzzy around the edges, which is exactly what I need right now. I don’t want clarity. Don’t want to think about tomorrow’s meeting with Coach Donnelly, about whether the team will want to cut me loose before the playoffs start, about whether my career is over before I’ve even had a chance to prove myself with my new team.

All I want is to stop feeling like my chest has been ripped open and everything inside has been scattered to the wind. I take another drink and hold up the bottle to toast the empty apartment. “I fucking hate you, apartment. You suck.”

The hum of climate control is all I hear.

I jump when someone knocks on my door. I’m just wasted enough that I’m tempted to scream at them to fuck off, but I restrain myself. If it’s Niko, I don’t want to burn that bridge. I really like Niko, and he’s a good man to have in my corner. But he’s also the only person I can imagine would drop by unannounced. I get unsteadily to my feet, and stagger over to thedoor. It’s not until I’m walking that I realize just how drunk I really am.

I press my nose to the door and peer through the peephole. When I see my ex Tam standing there with a carry-on bag slung over his shoulder, I let out a gasp worthy of a victim in a horror movie. I blink at him through the tiny lens, wondering if I’m dreaming.

When he leans in and yells, “Hey, Ryan, open the fucking door.”

For whatever reason, I immediately obey. I yank open the door and we stare at each other.

He gives me a sheepish smile. “Surprise.”

He looks really good. His blond hair is shorter than I remember, and he’s sexy in skinny jeans, a fitted green shirt, and a pair of high tops.

“What are you doing here?” I slur. “You dumped me, remember?”

“Yes, I remember.” He sighs, glancing around. “Can I come in? I flew all the way from Chicago for you.”

“What? Why?” I blink at him.

“Because, you idiot, I still care about you even if we’re not together, and I know you probably think everyone in the world hates you right now.”

My face falls. “They do.”

He shakes his head and pushes his way into my condo, but I don’t mind. It’s actually really good to see him again. He’s familiar and I feel like I have literally no one in the world who might be on my side except maybe Tam.

I close the door and follow him into the living room area. He lets out a low whistle as he takes in the place. “Fuck, this is snazzy. You could use some pictures on the walls though. It’s kind of sterile.” He drops his bag on the floor and sits down on the big sectional, glancing around. “Damn, Ryan, you live like a king.”

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