Page 5 of Catching Kyle
“Do you think that it’s Kyle’s fault we lost the Championship Game?”
A lineman shakes his head.
“No,” says one of our offensive tackles.
“Man, fuck Ricardo!” Our center says. “And fuck the media.”
Ezekiel looks back at me. “See?”
“But you know how it is. No teams wants to sign a gay person or even a person rumored to be gay. Too much drama.”
“Well, are you gay?”
My chest tightens, and I glare up at him. “No, dude. I’m definitely not gay.”
He throws up his hands defensively. “I’m just asking,” he says. He jumps to his feet. “Just know that I would still support you if you were.”
My phone lights up. I grab it to see it’s an email notification. And it’s not just from any email, but a very special email, one that’s meant only for veryprivatethings. Excitement bubbles in my chest.
I put my phone in my pocket and zip it up quickly, then rise to my feet, a good three inches taller than Ezekiel. “Thanks, man. But I’m serious. I’m into women. It’s just, you know—since my dad died.”
“I know that’s hard on you,” he says. “Maybe that’s what you can use to convince the media to stop asking about your love life.”
I snort. “I don’t think they’ll be satisfied until they see someone under my arm.”
Ezekiel shrugs. “That might be good for you to do,” he says. “Might make it easier for the Tigers to re-sign you.”
A pit forms in my stomach, and my shoulders tense. “You think they wouldn’t re-sign me if I was still single?”
He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” he says. “You’re the best linebacker the NFO has seen in decades. They’re going to re-sign you.”
My shoulders relax. “You’re right.”
Ezekiel walks over to a nearby treadmill and slips a shirt on. “Me and the guys are gonna get something to eat. Wanna join?”
I rub my belly. “For sure. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“And you’re working out that hard?” Ezekiel says. “You really need to lay off.”
I laugh. “I’ll be okay.”
As we wait for the other guys to finish up, I pull my phone and check out the notification. And I was right. He released a new video.
I scroll through his page, and my chest lights up with excitement. He hasn’t released a new video in a few weeks, so this is the rain during my drought. There are few guys that consistently get me off, and Peter Cummins is one of them. I love his red hair, his thick beard, his hairy muscles. I’ve been a fan of his for years.
Am I gay? I don’t like the question. I think guys are hot. I’ve slept with guys when I was part of that secret little gay club at Miss U. But I’m notgaygay. Meaning I still like women. And I wouldn’t call it bisexual either. I just think that some guys are handsome. When it comes to it, I’ll find a woman.
“You ready?” Ezekiel asks, the guys ready to go behind him.
I quickly shut off my phone and pray none of my blood went south. That would be a nightmare. I shift my legs and breathe a sigh of relief. We’re good.
Just as we’re walking out, my phone buzzes again. Did he release two videos in one day? Hallelujah. But when I pull it out, it’s not another email notification. It’s a text from my agent.
“We need to talk.”
It feels like I have heartburn. “Call later?” I send.
“No,” he responds. “Now. At our usual.”
