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Twenty-two

Knox

T he condo is quiet without all of Ryder’s ubiquitous noises, which I’ve become used to when he’s home. Silence is stifling. The filter on Goldie’s tank is loud in the stillness, breaking through my thoughts and annoying me more than ever. I should have flushed her when I had the chance, but then I wouldn't have this small reminder of Ryder even now. I hate this so much. Pulling up my phone, I text Lilah before I do something rash, like text Ryder and threaten to send Goldie to the fish farm if he doesn't come back.

Knox: Want to grab a drink? I need some company.

Lilah: Big bestie needs a hug?

Knox: Yes, and alcohol. Maybe you can scratch my head, too? I don't want to be alone right now.

Lilah: Alone? Isn’t Ryder there? The Hydras have a home game tomorrow. He’s in town, right?

Knox: …he left. I have a lot to explain. Want to come over?

Lilah: That sounds like code for bring drinks and snacks. Sweet or savory?

Knox: Both.

Lilah: Gotcha. Send me the address. I’ll be over in half an hour.

When Lilah arrives forty-five minutes later, she’s armed with a large canvas grocery bag stuffed with items. “Hey, sorry I’m late. Publix was way busier than I thought it would be, but this sounded serious, so it was worth the stop to get supplies.” She breezes past me to the couch. Settling herself, she unloads her bag on the coffee table. She pulls out Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, ranch dip, peanut butter Oreos, a jar of peanut butter, a carton of milk, a bottle of wine, a lime, and a bottle of tequila.

“Girl, who are you feeding, and why is this such a random assortment of shit?” I ask in astonishment. I don't think I’ve had this much junk food in my home at once in years. I don’t eat entirely clean all the time, but I’m generally pretty healthy.

“You said you needed alcohol and didn’t want to be alone. When I feel like that, sometimes I need wine, other times I need tequila, so I brought both. If we do wine, we need Oreos and peanut butter. If we do the tequila, we need the hot Cheetos and ranch dip. Trust me. Grab napkins, cups, shot glasses, plates, and a knife for the lime.”

I get everything from the kitchen she’s requested, bringing my armload back into the living room where she’s ripping open the bags and containers, arranging things with what I give her.

“Okay, is this a wine or tequila emergency?” she asks, holding up the bottles once I’ve fallen back into the couch cushions.

“I’m gay,” I say abruptly. It feels good to finally say it out loud to her. I’m sure she’s had her suspicions with everything that’s happened, but actually saying it out loud is new territory for us.

“Tequila night it is,” she says, blinking quickly, before putting the wine bottle back in her tote bag and pulling the shot glasses closer. She fills them and hands one to me, holding hers up for me to clink. “Cheers to queers!” she says merrily.

I can’t help laughing before I take my shot and suck the lime she hands me. “You’re really casual about this,” I say, my heart nearly jumping through my ribs as the tequila burns down my throat.

“Honey, I’ve known you were gay since the night you ordered pink cocktails and told me all about Ryder with hearts in your eyes, even though he was awful to you. If that wasn’t enough, going to drag brunch with you where you knew every word and lip-synced better than the queens did was a big fucking clue. You’re a secret RuPaul’s Drag Race fan, aren’t you?” she accuses with a raised eyebrow, pouring another round of shots.

“Guilty,” I say, shuddering as I hold up the next shot. “I told you I don't like tasting my alcohol, but you still brought tequila?”

“This is serious. You will take the alcohol I provide and spill your secrets. Now, drink, bitch.”

I make a face as I down the shot and place the glass far away on the coffee table so she won't refill it. Tequila and I don't get along so well. She holds out the bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, and I put a handful on the plate she gives me, already containing a dollop of ranch dip.

“Wait, did something happen at Luscious after Pride Night? You and Ryder disappeared, but I was kind of busy, so I wasn’t paying too close attention. Oh my God, it did, look at you! Spill,” she commands with wide eyes, brandishing a Cheeto at me as I groan and try to hide my face in embarrassment.

“Ryder and I have a complicated history, you know that, and living together the last few months has been weird. At first, we were constantly fighting, and he was always trying to get under my skin. Well, that turned into him trying to push my buttons and see what would make me snap. At the club, he was following me around, stopping guys from dancing with me, and I finally snapped. I pulled him close and suggestively danced on him, and said maybe he wanted me for himself if he wouldn't let anyone else have me, and he kissed me.”

“Oh fuck, he’s in love with you,” Lilah screams, grabbing for the Oreos. “This makes so much sense why he said all that nasty shit. He’s internalized his feelings into homophobia because he hates what he wants. So what happened, why did he leave?” She scoops up a glob of peanut butter with her Oreo and pops it in her mouth. The girl knows her junk food.

I sigh and twist apart an Oreo, adding extra peanut butter to the cream before putting the cookie back together. “I think I pushed him too hard. Every time he’s come on to me, he says it was, I don't know, like an accident or something, and he won't take responsibility for his actions. I just want him to admit that he’s been doing all this because he wants to be with me. But Ryder can't even say he’s bi, let alone that he wants me beyond the stolen touches or the kisses we shared at the club. I’m ready to come out already, and he’s so behind, he hasn’t even made it into the closet.” I hold off on sharing the more intimate details. Those are for me and Ryder to keep.

“That’s hard,” Lilah says, rubbing my arm. “Relationships aren’t easy at the best of times, but to have someone who’s afraid to acknowledge their orientation, well, you’re working on a different timeline and with different playbooks.” She scoops up ranch dip with a Cheeto and crunches it decisively.

“We’re playing different sports,” I muse around a mouthful of Oreo and peanut butter. We’ve gone full junk food mode. I’ll probably regret this at practice tomorrow, but right now, it’s helping my wounded heart.

“You know what you need to do, right?” Lilah says, sitting up and brushing red Cheeto dust off her chest. “You need to come out for real. You’re asking Ryder to do something you haven’t even done yet, not really. He’s terrified about his feelings for you and claiming his identity. If you take the risk first, it will show him you're serious about wanting to be with him and make it easier for him all around.”

My heart kicks in my chest and decides now is a great time to run a fifty-yard dash without an end zone in sight. That’s scary enough to make my stomach turn over and mix the tequila, Oreos, and Cheetos into a disgusting sludge that threatens to come right back up. I swallow the bile that rises in my throat.

“You think that’s necessary?” I manage to squeak out.

Lilah pins me with way too sober a stare. “Knox, how long have you been in the closet, my big, bad, gay bestie?”

“A long, long time,” I admit, leaning over and pulling the bottle of wine out of Lilah’s tote. This sounds like I’ll need additional alcohol that doesn’t taste like fire. Lilah holds the glasses out for me to pour when I pull the cork out of her pink wine.

“If you want Ryder to admit he’s bi and wants to be with you, you’re going to have to make the first big step. That’s coming out to the world and showing him it’s not that bad. We’ll make sure of it. Let’s write your story and take back the narrative. With Ryder’s viral video thrusting you into the spotlight, people were making assumptions, but no one’s heard from you directly. Tell your story, explain what it’s like being gay in professional sports, and how that hasn’t affected you even once in your career, because it shouldn't. It’s not like straight people go into the office every day saying I’m straight, my work is going to be so much harder because of it , so why would being gay be any different?” She’s on a roll, pulling her phone out and typing into a notes app already.

I drink the surprisingly tasty pink wine and look at the bottle. It’s a pink Moscato from a California winery called Villa Sonoma. Leave it to Lilah to find pretty wine that I actually like. Ryder would have a field day if he knew of my preference for pink drinks. I look over at Goldie’s tank and catch her looking at me. No, I’m not your mommy, you damn fish. She’s definitely his child. I refocus on Lilah.

“Okay, so I’m doing this. I have to tell my agent first, let him know there’s going to be backlash, and get a plan for PR going. I’m doing this right if I’m doing it at all.” The words sound eerily similar to what Ryder said when he was on his knees sucking my dick, and the thought sends me spiraling a little. But if I ever want to repeat that amazing moment with him, I have to show what bravery looks like and prove how much I want to be with him.

Lilah fiddles with her phone, pulling up a music app, and raising the volume before hitting play. “I’m Coming Out” by Diana Ross blasts through the speaker, and she cackles. I set my wineglass down as she pulls me to my feet. We dance around my living room like fools. I even show her my best Drag Race moves I’ve never shown anyone else, and for once, I don't feel so alone or scared of what the future holds.