Page 135 of Catching Kyle
When I see nothing, I’m tempted to continue my speech a little longer. Maybe I said something wrong. Maybe I didn’t say enough. But just as the mic meets my lips, that’s when I see him.
Michael comes rushing out of the tunnel, and someone puts a spotlight on him. The crowd goes wild as they see the man who stole the heart of the best linebacker of the 21stcentury and the Sexiest Man Alive. The man that I love.
By the time Michael reaches the stage, his face is glistening with sweat, and I rush to meet him. He doesn’t even take two steps onto the stage before I wrap my arms around him.
The crowd breaks into a roar. Many jeering too, I’m sure. But I don’t care. I’m finally with the man that I love. And my integrity is completely intact.
I pull away, but I grab his hand and lift the mic to my mouth. “I was awful to you,” I say. “I abandoned you just when I said I loved you the most. Because I was scared of what we had. I was scared of what everyone would think.”
I lower the mic, bite my lip, then raise it again. “But I’m here to tell you that the real me—the true Kyle Weaver—loves you from the bottom of his heart.Ilove you, Michael. And I hope you still feel the same for me. Because I want to spend my life with you. Regardless of what my father, the NFO, or anyone else might think.”
With this confession, I think the crowd will burst into a riot—fans storming the field to attack the player who just made their favorite game gay.
But that doesn’t happen. In fact, the stadium is silent once more. They’re waiting for the answer.
My chest heaves as Michael looks into my eyes.
Then he pulls me in for the most passionate kiss he’s ever given me. Which is saying something.
And the crowd cheers.
He pulls away and strokes my sweaty face with my thumb. “I love you, too, Kyle Weaver,” he says. “And I think I want to spend my life with you too.”
A laughter bubbles up inside me—a joyous one born of laughter that is so strong it can’t be contained. I kiss him again and then hold my forehead against his, laughing and crying now. And he kisses me back. I raise my first to the crowd, and they break into the most boisterous applause yet.
Sloane taps me on the shoulder. “Alright, he says. “That was beautiful, you two. But I still gotta perform a little.”
I pull away from Michael and wipe my eyes. “Right, we’ll let you get to it. Thank you again.”
Michael and I rush off the stage, my hand on his lower back. And I couldn’t be happier.
“Now some love songs for the new lovers,” Sloane says, and he begins performing.
I take Michael to his tunnel and hold his hands. “Will you come over after the game?”
He kisses me on the lips and squeezes my hands, and my chest feels like there’s a balloon filled with joy inside. “There isn’t a place I’d rather be.”
I kiss him one last time, then let the wide-eyed security guards take him away. “Hey, even football players can be gay too,” I say.
The taller one laughs. “They can,” he says. “You’re just brave for being one.”
I let Michael go and jog back to the locker room. I don’t know what the coaches or other players might say, but that doesn’t matter anymore. From now on, everything I do is for me.
Chapter 49
Michael Cunningham
Thewalkbacktomy private suite is the most eventful walk of my life. Even though the guards take me through staff-only corridors and elevators, I’m still stopped by fans whenever they see me. And they’re supportive. Kind. Exactly the opposite of what I expected. I do get some dirty looks, but most share about how happy they are that the NFO is finally accepting gay people, and I share my enthusiasm in return.
But that isn’t the only reason I’m happy.
Kyle showed me his love, and we’re back together.
By the time I reach my private suite, I’m pinching myself. For years, I’ve thought that it was only possible for me to fall in love with emotionally unavailable men, and that Kyle would be the last string of evidence to prove this curse.
But he didn’t.
Instead, in the bravest demonstration I could imagine, he showed me he loved me. In front of millions and millions of people. That’s a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid of it either. In short, an emotionally available man.
