Page 74 of Attractive Forces
“Looked like you were busy.”
I narrow my gaze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Brewer meets my stare with a hard one of his own. Our eye contact is locked for a few seconds before he speaks again. “It wasn’t Jake’s sister’s room you were trying to get into the other night, was it?” His voice is low.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
My heart gallops in my chest. It’s all set to win the Grand Derby.
I continue to just stare at him as he backs away from me. “Fuck, it all makes so much sense now. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” His words are coated with disgust. Fear clogs my throat.
He turns, and once again, I’m treated to the sight of the back of his rugby jersey as he stalks away.
“Brewer!” I yell after him, but he doesn’t turn around.
Fuck. What the hell am I going to do?
My mind churnsall afternoon in class. The teachers could be standing naked twerking for all the attention I pay them.
Instead, my mind is focused on one thing.
Who Brewer might tell. What he might say.
When I go to practice after school, my mouth is dry and my heart is pumping like it’s the end of a hard practice, not the beginning.
In the locker room, I watch Brewer like he’s a grenade that could explode at any moment, spraying shrapnel that will destroy my life.
But he ignores me. Like there is a blank, Logan-sized space in the universe.
Fuck. So that’s how it’s going to be. I’m not sure if I should be happy or not. At least he’s not yelling at me in front of the whole team.
My gut churns. Brewer’s my oldest friend, and he’s now the only person besides Jake who knows this about me. And he’s acting like I don’t exist.
Practice is tough. It’s our last run before the quarter-final, so Coach seems to be channeling his inner army general.
I’m not sure if it’s because I feel like I need to prove something to Brewer, but I push myself hard.
Always the first to the breakdown, hitting the hardest tackles, throwing the sharpest passes.
Yeah, I might be gay, but I can still run rings around everyone on the rugby field.
I’m walking off the field when Coach calls out my name.
“Logan, you have a minute?”
“Sure.”
My mouth goes dry. What does he want to talk to me about? Surely Brewer hasn’t said anything to him? Maybe he just wants to talk about some top-secret tactics for the game.
I follow Coach into his office. It’s really just an old storage cupboard that the school converted into an office for him when he agreed to coach our team.
He’s got a replica of last year’s championship trophy sitting on a shelf behind his desk. The real one is in a display cabinet in the foyer of the office admin block, so it’s the first thing anyone sees when they arrive at the school.
“Take a seat,” he instructs.
I obey.
