Page 10 of Catch Me (Becoming Us #4)

Travis

Pete leaned against the table, but he hadn’t said anything yet. It looked like he was thinking. I made it a habit not to assume the worst, so I tried not to play a guessing game in my head.

“What’s up?” I asked, slipping my hands into my pockets.

“So, you’ve gone viral a few times. That’s not an issue. It’s been good publicity, and I think what you’re doing is really great.”

“I don’t need you to sing my praises. What’s this about?”

He sighed. “Public relations. You’ve been more active online in the past few months and it’s getting attention.”

“Attention is good, right?”

“Yes and no. It’s to be expected that you’ll outwardly support the LGBTQ community. Nobody up top has an issue with that. They’re getting concerned about your content, though, and they’re putting pressure on me to talk to you about it.”

I ground my teeth together and curled my fingers in my pockets in an effort to release some tension. It didn’t do much, but it was enough to keep me from clapping back right away.

“What’s wrong with my content?” I asked casually.

“Well, you’re raising money to take a stance against state laws. ”

“Because they’re harmful laws. They should be fought against, and hundreds of thousands of people agree.”

He held up his hands. “I’m not disagreeing with you, Trav. The issue is that this is no longer about being a voice for gay people. It’s become political.”

My nostrils flared, and I had to take a long breath. “Human rights aren’t a matter of opinion, Pete.”

“In this world, they are. It doesn’t matter what we think. You have to abide by the standards in your contract. They don’t like the attention this is garnering.”

“I don’t fucking care what they like!” I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head. “Are you saying I have to drop this?”

“I’m saying we need to talk more about it, figure out what limits they’re trying to set here.” He stepped closer and gave me an apologetic look. “Look, Trav. This is Georgia. You know the laws in each state, right?”

“Yeah, they prevent conversion therapy from being banned here. To me, that means I should speak louder.”

“If it was just about you, sure. They don’t want that associated with the team. The people who live here are literally the ones who support us. We could lose fans—a lot of them.”

“This is fucking ridiculous. What do you think will happen if I pull back? People message me every day, ones who can’t openly be who they are.

There are hundreds—thousands— in this city who look to me because I’m their fucking voice.

Do you know how many guys who play sports have reached out to me, feeling hope for the first time because they’re terrified of being kicked off their team or ostracized?

That’s what I’m working against here, and you just want me to drop it. ”

“What’s wrong with doing what you were before?”

I scoffed. “Being a figurehead isn’t enough. It doesn’t do anything to actually help.”

With a sigh, he nodded. “Just tone it down for now and we’ll see what else they say, okay?”

I didn’t trust myself to respond, so I turned around and walked out the door. At the other end of the hall, Roman was talking on the phone. There was a big smile on his face, but as soon as he saw me, it disappeared. He said something, then ended the call.

“We leaving?” he asked .

“Yup.”

His contemptuous expression pissed me off right now.

I’d been honest in the car on the way here.

I didn’t give a shit what he believed, as long as he could be respectful.

Befriending someone like him wasn’t on my to-do list, but I wasn’t going to refuse to work with people because they didn’t like how I was born.

Sure, it made me want to cuss them out sometimes, but he could believe whatever the fuck he wanted.

After that conversation, I was at risk of going against all of that. He was representative of the kind of people who had an issue with me taking a ‘political stance.’

Do your job and stay out of politics.

You’re paid to throw a ball, not shove your views down our throats .

I don’t want my kids watching this gay propaganda.

Fucking ridiculous. How the hell did anyone think things like conversion therapy were acceptable? It was 2025. Every time I heard shit like this, I was appalled. It shouldn’t have surprised me anymore, but it did.

When we got to the lobby, I whistled and Tessa came running. She trotted at my side, then leapt into the Jeep when I opened the door. We drove for thirty minutes in silence, and I was aware of Roman looking over a few times, but I ignored him.

“Are you good?” he finally asked when I pulled off the freeway.

“Mhm.”

“That’s clearly a lie.”

I wasn’t sure if I should be angry or amused by his statement. It wasn’t something I’d share with him. There was no point, and I didn’t need to vent to a stranger.

“So, this illustration,” he ventured. “Since I’m going home this afternoon, I’m not sure how to do this.”

“Do you need me to pose or can you use your imagination?”

“Well, it’s just an example, so I guess I can figure it out. There are pictures of you online and stuff.”

“Cool. If you need anything else, just text me.”

“Yup. Will do.”

I pulled up to the house, but I didn’t get out of the car. It was a bad idea to be home right now, especially with Roman around. His general presence was fine, but if he adopted his dickish attitude again, I might snap .

“I’ll be back to get you at two,” I said.

He hopped out of the Jeep without a word and headed up to the house. I rolled down the windows to breathe the fresh air as I turned around.

“Wanna go for a run, Tessa?”

She leapt into the front seat and stuck her head out the window. I took that as a yes.

*****

“They want you to stop?” Sen asked, sounding shocked.

I pinned the phone between my ear and shoulder while I flipped my omelet. “They want me to tone it down .”

“How can they ask you to do that?”

“Because they see it as political.”

He huffed a laugh. “Tilian said you should blow up the stadium.”

“Tell Tilian to smoke another bowl.”

“I think his anti-establishment principles just get worse when he does. Oh, he wants to know if Roman got ahold of you. He asked for your number.”

“Yeah, he did.”

“Are you guys working together on something?”

“Not my family, not my information to share.”

“Fair,” Sen replied. “What? Tilian...Ugh. He wants me to tell you not to let Roman’s bitchy attitude get to you. He’s secretly a messy bottom in need of a doorknob and therapy.”

I nearly dropped the pan as I transferred my omelet to a plate.

Had he fucked his stepbrother? That added a new layer to things.

When West said Roman was in love with Tilian, I took it mostly as speculation or even a joke.

I wasn’t interested in determining if he actually was repressing his sexuality, but it was starting to feel like less of an ‘if.’

It was impossible not to feel bad for him.

I wondered where his opposition to homosexuality came from.

His mom was obviously okay with it. Maybe it was his dad or the people he hung out with.

He told me he’d played baseball in high school, and I knew firsthand how hard it was to be ‘the gay kid’ on the team.

A lot of them had been fine with me, but there were enough who had been assholes.

“You there?” Sen asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Just cooking. ”

“So, what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know. There’s not much I can do. I’m under contract and I can’t just risk my entire career. In theory, I would, but it’s not that simple.”

“Yeah, I get it. We need people like you to keep fighting, but it feels like there’s a wall no matter which direction you go in.

At my job, I didn’t want them to find out I was gay, but I wasn’t okay with hiding and Kai wanted to have lunch with me some days, so everyone knows.

My manager straight up asked me not to talk about it.

He said it's fine, but it should stay at home.”

“Jesus. What’d you say?”

“I told Kai, which was a mistake.” Despite his words, he laughed.

“He came in, sporting a shirt that made his biceps look amazing, and he introduced himself to everyone. I think they’re a little shocked by him because, and I quote, ‘he doesn’t look gay.

’ He kissed me like a madman, then asked if that looked gay.

Now that my eyes are open to it, I see all these hurdles we still have to clear, even though they say we’ve achieved equality. ”

“And that’s why I can’t stop. If we cave when people try to silence us, we won’t break through those fucking walls.”

“Well, they said to tone it down. Maybe do that but don’t actually stop. Change your approach or something.”

With a sigh, I dropped into a barstool and poked at my omelet. “I need more people on this. If the content is spread out and it’s not just me, it’ll shift some of the spotlight without taking away from the issue.”

“I bet Brooks would be all for getting on TikTok and going off. If he can convince Tilian, they might start a revolution.”

“Bring out the guillotine!” the crazy fucker shouted in the background.

“What about you?” I asked cautiously.

The silence made me regret bringing it up. I didn’t want to pressure him. If he said no, I wouldn’t broach the subject again, but I wanted to at least ask.

“I want to,” Sen replied. “My therapist thinks it might actually be good for me, but only if I’m comfortable with it.

He also told me it’s likely to stir up things that I thought I’d moved past, so I want to be ready for that.

Kai says he’ll be here to make sure I get through it, but he devotes too much of himself to others—me especially. ”

“That’s the way he shows love, Sen. Let him love you.”

“He doesn’t really give me a choice anyway. But yeah, I’ll do it. I just don’t know when.”

“Whenever you’re comfortable. Is it okay if I share some things with people to get them interested in watching your story?”

“Sure.”

“You, Seneca Taylor, are amazing. I knew it the moment I saw you on that dock with your feet in the water.”

“Is that why you came up to me?”

I thought back on that day, the first one at Camp Dumont. The truth was, I’d been just as terrified, but I’d known that I didn’t want to change.

“I went up to you because I wanted to help you stay strong so they wouldn’t break you. I wanted to keep you safe.”

I’m sorry I failed you .

Those words always got stuck in my throat.

I knew that he didn’t blame me. That wasn’t the issue.

I blamed myself, not just for what happened at camp but also for leaving him there, for never trying to find him on social media.

Most importantly, I blamed myself for moving on and forgetting about that terrified thirteen-year-old kid who got slapped so hard by his dad that it still haunted me.