Page 93 of Catching Kyle

I take off my undershirt and grab my towel for the shower. “It’s not just me,” I say. “It’s all of us contributing.”

“Of course,” he says, swatting his hand at me. “But you’re what’s bringing us to the top.”

“Well let’s just keep it that way,” I say, walking to the showers. “Because I only got one chance to win the Championship Game.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he says.

By the time I’m alone in the shower, there’s a bubbling or heat in my chest. I can’t really tell anymore. But I know the discomfort comes from guilt.

I can talk about the Championship Game with anyone. But once Michael wants to talk about it, I freeze up. I have to keep telling him ‘it’s too hard right now’, but I can’t do that forever.

But I don’t know if I can keep up this secret relationship forever, either.

Back in the locker rooms, I got dozens of questions about my playing, my dad, Amani. And none of them were about my sexuality. I never realized how much having a girlfriend shielded me from that sexuality shit. It’s like I’m actually normal, and I can finally focus on playing.

And I hate to admit it, but sometimes when I’m practicing, or when I’m playing in a game, I like to pretend that this is my real world—that I really have a girlfriend, and that I’m really carrying my team to the Championship Game and honoring that last promise to my father. And I’m ashamed to admit that this means, briefly, forgetting that Michael exists. There’s relief that comes with fitting in, with not being gay in a world that needs me to be straight.

Not to mention the guilt I feel about lying about this whole relationship. Both Mom and Dad talked about integrity. How honorable is it of me to hide a man that I’m fucking? Sure, my dad would be proud of me for making it this far. But would he be proud of me for dating a man in secret? Would he be proud of me for dating a man at all? Abandoning the family legacy?

My chest aches badly, the guilt getting stronger. Because all this means that I’m turning my back on the kindest, smartest, and gentlest man I know.

I turn off the water, hoping my thoughts will turn off with it. They don’t, but that doesn’t matter. I gotta get dressed and meet Amani. And Michael.

When I get to our designated meeting spot, Amani emerges from a horde of people. I put on my biggest smile for the flashing cameras, and we kiss deeply.

Once we release, I spot Michael staring at me from the crowd swaddled in warm clothing. He’s looking at me passionately, like he wishes it was him kissing me instead. We wave to the cameras, then disappear into the crowd, led by security. The three of us stay silent until we reach our area of the parking garage and are completely alone.

“Well you were amazing,” Amani says.

“Thank you thank you,” I say with a mock bow.

Michael smiles lukewarmly, holding himself small like he does when he’s upset. Fuck, I hate seeing him like this.

“So the usual plan?” Amani asks.

I glance at Michael. She comes to my house, drops Michael off, then goes her own way, then Michael slinks off with his car the next day. I want Michael over, but at the same time, I don’t. God, we’re only halfway through the season. Can I do this for another three months?

“Sure,” I say, looking down at the ground.

Without another word, we go our separate ways. Once I’m on the highway, I replay the game in my head, thinking on how I can improve. But I keep seeing Michael’s hurt face. When he’s asked what’s wrong, I’ve told him I’m not ready to talk. Yet I can only do that for so long. Sooner or later, I’m gonna have to say something. I just have no idea what I want to say. I can’t give up this season. But I sure as hell don’t want to give Michael up either.

I get home, and Michael and Amani arrive shortly after. She pulls into the garage, drops him off, then slips away before anyone sees. I drop my bag in the laundry room, take his stuff, and carry it up to my room without a word.

I set everything down to the side, and Michael sits down on my bed. He looks up at me, expectantly.

“That was a fantastic game,” he says. “I was able to follow everything.”

God, I love how earnest he is.

“Yeah?” I say, unable to stop the grin forming on my face. “I’m glad you both are taking a liking to football.”

Months ago, I would pin him down and place and start kissing him. But it feels wrong to do that tonight after all my daydreaming of living a straight life. So instead, I strip my clothes and slip into bed beside him. I open up the covers for him to join me.

He looks at me, curious as to why I’ve skipped our normal step. But he says nothing. Instead, he gets into bed and snuggles up next to me. I wrap my arms around him.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “Why wouldn’t they be?”