Page 21 of Scoring Zone
If Benz and Leo think they’re keeping their affair a secret, they are doing a terrible job. Glancing around the room, the team has caught on that one, Leo is not straight and two, Leo and Benz are too cozy not to be sleeping together.
Austin maintains a stoic face while listening to Benz talk for Leo about the assumption of heterosexuality and the frequency of homophobic slurs in locker rooms. I’m so thankful that has changed. It was hard to pretend it didn’t bother me, and I knew better than to come out when I played in the CHL.
“At a young age, boys learn to distance themselves from any thoughts or feelings that aren’t straight to avoid being different,” Benz reads from Leo’s tablet, and I wonder if that’s what happened to Austin. He buried his emotions so he wouldn’t be different. Unwelcome bitterness bubbles inside me at the thought.
If he felt that way, he couldn’t completely accept my sexuality and it burns.
Benz continues to read Leo’s praise of the team’s bravery. Everyone clocks the fact that Benz calls Leo “Lovie” and kisses his head. But no one interrupts. Liska looks smug, and most of the others stunned. Austin’s jaw is hanging open.
Benz summarizes by saying, “Leo’s too nice to say it, but if you’re fantasizing about kissing a dude or touching a dick, you ain’t straight.” He leans over to read Leo’s next words. “It’s a spectrum, not a box.”
I watch Austin’s face for a reaction. It shouldn’t disappoint me that he doesn’t have anahamoment or epiphany that he’s into dicks.
It would be too much to ask that one conversation with the team would change his mind about me, his lifelong friend turned spurned lover. I’m leaning into the dramatics of my heartbreak.
“But what if you’re like piss-drunk and do something you wouldn’t normally do?” a rookie asks.
“I would argue that being drunk lowers your inhibitions and gives you permission to do something you might be too nervous to do,” King says. “It’s not my intention to point fingers or out anyone. I was making a general statement to the media. No one has to feel pressured to examine their sexuality. It’s a friendly discussion.”
I try to catch Austin’s eye, but he avoids looking at me. This discussion could legitimately be about our situation, and hewon’t acknowledge me. Any hope I had for his change of heart dies in the locker room.
The sober deathbed for my heart explodes with roars and disbelief as Benz confirms that he and Leo are sleeping together. My gaze cuts to Griff, who has face-palmed with the declaration, but he doesn’t seem angry, so that’s a huge win for them.
I’d love a win for me right about now. I’m happy for them as Benz sings Leo loves him, but it hurts not to have that.
As I’m trying to make my escape, Lucky yells, “Hey, Gray. I see you. Don’t think you’re skipping out on us. Again.” I’m surprised he noticed I didn’t go last time.
By the time I reach the treatment room, the friend chat has blown up with plans to go out tonight.
I don’t have it in me to celebrate and pretend to care that they won the game. I’ve always cared, but tonight I’m going home and watching porn and maybe re-downloading a dating app.
It’s time to face the fact that I’ve let my relationship with Austin stop me from finding love. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but I’d rather spend time with him than with a stranger. But a stranger can’t become anything else if I don’t make an effort.
This is the kick to find my own happiness and not expect Austin to provide it for me. The prospect of being with someone else turns my stomach. I’m so fucked.
Austin knocks on my bedroom door after 2 a.m., but I don’t say anything. My light is on because I couldn’t sleep, and I’m frozen as if moving will alert him I’m awake.
“G,” he whispers, and knocks again.
I’m in boxers with no shirt on and have a nice big ole empty glass of whiskey. If he comes into my room, there is a hundredpercent chance I will jump him. The floor creaks, and I snatch my e-reader off the bedside table and position myself as if I fell asleep reading.
“Gray?” He cracks open my door, and I concentrate on breathing evenly.
Maybe because I’ve known him most of my life, I knew he’d come in. I’ve stooped to a new low, faking sleep to escape talking to my best friend. But the last time we’d both been drinking ended in disaster, so I’m calling this self-preservation.
“I’m so sorry, Gray.” The bed dips as he sits down. His fingers run through my hair that’s haphazardly all over the pillow, and it takes Captain America-level control not to react to his touch. “Your widow’s peak has always fascinated me. Before you knew how to tame it, your hair would stick straight up.” He chuckles and his fingers ghost down my chest. He sucks in a breath, and his hand trembles.
“I hate lying to you. It’s killing me. I didn’t know I could want another person so viscerally. You’re all I think about. How am I going to stay away from you?” His hot fingers rest on my side. My scalp and individual hairs throb with the echo of his touch. There is not a scientist alive who could convince me that hair can’t feel.
My heart races so fast I’m afraid it will give me away. He’s not making sense, and I wonder if it’s the alcohol talking. It’s given him liquid courage, but what will happen in the morning? I can’t be his drunken booty call. I have to decide to “wake up” or listen to his confession, knowing he’s only saying it because he thinks I’m asleep.
“It’s like the sleeping dragon woke up, and the dragon is dangerous. You’re the best person in my life, and I have to protect you. Please don’t hate me. I know you’re mad.” His voice cracks and he stands.
It’s like he handed me a tennis racket to play hockey. All I have to do is pretend to wake up, and I can ask him. We can talk this through and figure it out together. We can do anything together.
He sets my e-reader aside and covers me with the blanket.
“Love ya, G.” He kisses my forehead and sneaks out of my room.
