Has Jason considered any of this? Does he understand the anguish he’s putting others through?
Sports Sphere wants to tackle homophobia in professional sports. This is huge. They’re not dismissing the topic, relegating it to tiny LGBTQ blogs and magazines. They’re saying everyone interested in sports should be interested in this.
For all of Rex Manley’s bluster, he’s doing the right thing.
I need to interview Jason.
My story will be so much richer with his input.
There’s no way I’m going back to the office and say I failed my first assignment. I won’t let my new colleagues smirk as theyoffer me faux sympathies, certain they would have gotten better results.
I won’t fail Sports Sphere’s audience either.
I won’t give up, no matter how skittish Jason appears.
“I won’t kiss you, you know,” I say.
Jason’s lashes flick up. His blue eyes are wider than they should be, and it’s everything I can do to not roll my own eyes and call him on his homophobia right now.
“I-I wasn’t thinking you would do that.” His voice is a higher pitch than it normally is, and I scrutinize him. His cheeks are pink, and beads of sweat dot his brow.
He’s getting sweaty just at the thought of standing beside me?Fuck.The NHL needs to invest in some workshops.
I square my shoulders. Apologizing sucks. But to be fair to him... maybe in his experience, gay guys do attack him. The thought curdles in my stomach, because in his personal history, I’m that guy.
“I’m really sorry about the kiss.”
His eyes round, and every muscle in his body tenses. His fingers flutter, and I hate it. I hate that that incident surpassed our entire friendship, that a few seconds... well, longer than a few, could erase a whole friendship and move us from best friends to friends to acquaintances to strangers to actual enemies.
I hate we were so fragile.
I hate I had no idea.
I wasted so much time as a teenager pining for him. He didn’t deserve to be the object of my affections, and I definitely didn’t deserve to waste my time on him either.
His eyes bounce around the corridor, and he eyes the elevator.
“You think someone is on the other side and is overhearing us?”
“N-no,” he stammers, then rakes a trembling hand through his hair. “Just, uh, don’t talk about it.”
“But—”
“It’s fine. I, uh, forgot about it until you reminded me.” He gives a wild, maniacal laugh. “That was crazy. Pranks.”
I blink.
I’m pretty sure there’s no way in hell he forgot about our kiss.
But I won’t call him on it.
I need his help. I decide to try another angle. “Look, this is my first assignment for Sports Sphere. It would mean a lot to me if...”
He straightens, and I’m suddenly aware of my size. It would have been cool if I’d arrived sleek and gym-perfected, like I was doing this journalism thing between runway model bookings. Instead, I’m rounded, like a tall hobbit, like all my relatives.
“We’re not friends, Cal,” Jason says.
“I-I know.”
