Page 137 of Catching Kyle
Hunched down, waiting for them to snap the ball, I spot their quarterback signing something out to their wide receiver. This is the same thing they did last year. They’re trying to juke us out.
They snap the ball, and the quarterback rushes back. He cocks his arm back to throw out to the left. Having seen this before, I dart out to the other side of the field. Where I know the ball will be.
And I’m right.
The quarterback throws it to the wide receiver just a few yards from me. Likely anticipating me, the quarterback threw it high. So that means I’m gonna have to jump high to grab it.
As the ball’s coming down, I rush to where I see it’s going to land.
And then I jump.
My arms stretched high, the ball falls into my arms.
And I land on my two feet.
The crowd roars, but I don’t take time to congratulate myself.
I run like hell.
The crowd’s roars intensify, now just as loud as they were when I kissed Michael.
When I kissed Michael. My official boyfriend.
I’m running. I manage to stiff arm a guy coming toward me, and I turn my body just out of reach from another. Fifty yards away from the goal line. Then forty.
I see flashes of the Vanguards’ red uniform to my right. But I don’t focus on them. If I do, I’ll slow down. I need to stay fast. Thirty yards now.
I remember that I was exactly here a year ago. So much has changed. But the biggest difference now is that if someone asks me if I’m gay, I can gladly tell them the truth: yes. And I’m in love with a man named Michael Cunningham.
Someone reaches out and nearly grasps my clothing. But they just barely miss. I speed up, and then somehow, miraculously, I pass the goal line.
I go deaf at the sound of the cheering. I don’t realize what’s happened until all the Tigers are throwing themselves into me, grabbing my shoulder pads and cheering me on.
We did it. We fucking did it.
I won us the Championship Game.
And for the first time, I did it for me.
The next moments blur together. Our team celebrates. We thank the Vanguards for the game. I’m interviewed, but I don’t remember what I say. Because now that the game’s over, there’s only one person I want to see.
In the locker rooms, I don’t even shower. I’m too eager to see him. I just change into some nice clothes and grab my phone. Since I forgot where his suite is, I text Michael to meet me in a specific part of the stadium. He says he’ll meet me there.
When I see him, he rushes to me, security all around us. He wraps his arms around me, and I press my lips so hard into him I swear I see stars.
“You did it,” he says, grabbing both sides of my head.
“I did,” I say, still unable to believe it.
We kiss again, and this time everyone around us cheers. And I feel no shame at all.
That night at the after party, some reporters are there, including Robyn, the woman from ESB who first interviewed me about my father.
“How does it feel to be out and with the man you love?” she asks, putting the microphone in front of me. The camera is rolling to my right, and I know this moment is just as important as when I confessed my love in the stadium. Michael is standing by, watching. He gives me an encouraging thumbs up.
I smile at him and look back at Robyn. “I couldn’t be happier,” I say. “I’m finally being true to myself.”
“Do you have any words for your fans out there?”
