Page 67 of Scoring Zone
His compliment sits in my chest like a strange itch I can’t scratch. He clearly believes it, so maybe I should too. Slowly, I’d let my intrusive thoughts become reality, ignoring the actions of others that disproved my thoughts. Austin isn’t the only one with lots of work to do on himself.
King comes in after practice for a hamstring stretch. “Had a little spasm.”
“Let’s go to the mats. It’ll be easier for me.” We cross the hall, and he lies down. “Did it bother you during practice, or was it only one spasm?” I ask him several other questions while I massage and manipulate his legs.
He can handle pressure on it, and there aren’t any sore spots. “It’s probably dehydration. Make sure you drink extra water and electrolytes.”
“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Austin says with amusement from the doorway as I’m standing over King with my chest against his leg in the air. “Come find me when you’re done.”
“I won’t take up too much of your man’s time,” King calls after him.
Austin freezes for a second but doesn’t turn around and walks away stiffly.
“Oops, my bad,” King mumbles.
“What are you sorry for?” I turn his leg out to stretch his inner thigh.
He stares at me with apprehension. “Grayson, how many Black men are on the team?”
“Only you.” I have no idea where this is going or if it was a trick question.
“And how many Black players in the league total?”
“Four or five?” I ask because I’m not totally sure.
“People who gatekeep my Blackness would say four, but most white people would say five,” he says, as if that explains his point, but I’m more lost than ever.
“I learned to read the room to survive, and I can tell who tolerates me because they have to, who not to walk down a dark alley with, and who genuinely cares. I’m an expert at reading people because my safety depends on it.” He holds up his hand when I try to argue. “That is a totally different discussion. But you and our captain aren’t avoiding each other because of a fight, but because you’re afraid of outing yourselves.”
I’ve sunk down onto the mat next to him with my mouth hanging open. My first instinct is to deny it, but I don’t.
“Don’t worry. I’d never out anyone. I have mad respect for both of you.” He uses my shoulder to stand up. “We good?”
“Sure thing,” I say automatically, and he leaves.
We weren’t as careful as we thought. Austin finds me still sitting on the floor and rushes over.
“Are you okay?” His eyes scan me as he reaches for me.
The truth is a double-edged sword that I can’t protect him from because it always comes out in the end, so I take a deep breath. “King knows about us. I didn’t tell him,” I add.
Austin’s knees give out, and he collapses next to me, grasping my hand.
“King won’t out you.” His palm is clammy in mine.
“I know. He’s a true teammate.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“Listen.” I pause, gathering my thoughts and courage. “You might have the urge to tell everyone right away, but it’s probably best to talk to Victoria before doing anything.”
Austin’s blue eyes cloud with confusion, and he tilts his head to the side in an unasked question.
“The practice facility isn’t private enough for this conversation,” I say, patting the mat with my free hand.
“What aren’t you saying?” He tries to draw his hand away, but I won’t let him.
“I would do anything for you. Take a bullet. Whatever it takes.” I take his other hand, and he softens. “But there are things out of my control and yours.”
“Go ahead and say it.” He momentarily takes his hand out of mine to swipe his sweaty forehead.
