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Chapter forty-eight

Mike

The last kid—Jamie—left the classroom with the kind of reluctant shuffle that told me he didn’t want the night to end. He lingered by the door, his eyes still bright with excitement, his hands twisting in his hoodie.

“You sure I can’t help clean up, Coach Ricci?” he asked, glancing back at the refreshment table.

Mateo shook his head, giving him a smile. “Nah, man. Go home. Bask in the glory of your first successful meeting.”

Jamie grinned. “Hell yeah. Next time, I’m bringing decorations.”

Elliot, still lounging in the back row like a kid in detention, let out a chuckle. “Jamie, I think you were the decorations.”

Jamie shot him finger guns before finally disappearing down the hall. Seeing that boy leave with such confidence, almost a swagger, felt better than anything I’d witnessed in all my years of teaching.

The moment the door clicked shut, I exhaled and turned to the others. “I don’t know about you guys, but I could use a drink.”

Mateo groaned. “I have never needed a drink more.”

“Jockstraps?” I suggested.

Elliot stretched, rolling his shoulders. “Fine by me, but if I hear a single word about team-building exercises, I’m walking into traffic.”

I grinned. “Fair enough.”

With that, we grabbed our jackets and headed out.

As much time as we spent in Jockstraps for trivia nights, I couldn’t remember actually looking around the place. We were always so wrapped up in our own drama or preparing to beat our competition into submission, the place’s décor had never really been important. As we entered, it almost felt like stepping into the bar for the first time.

Jockstraps was equal parts divey and iconic. Jerseys and jockstraps (yes, actual ones) were pinned up like trophies on the walls, the TVs alternated between ESPN and RuPaul’s Drag Race , and the bartender—a mountain of a man named Dwayne—served drinks like he was both a therapist and an enabler.

The second we walked in, Mateo let out a long groan and immediately made a beeline for the bar. Dwayne, who had seen us coming, was already reaching for a bottle. “Beer?”

Mateo sighed. “Just pour the alcohol directly into my veins.”

Three bottles materialized before us. Elliot grabbed them and led us to a high-top at the far corner, away from the noise of the crowd.

Mateo collapsed into his seat, rubbing his face. “Holy shit.”

Elliot smirked, sipping his beer. “That good, huh?”

“That was insane.” Mateo let out something between a laugh and a groan.

I dropped into the seat across from him, stretching out my legs. “Absolute, unfiltered gay chaos.”

Elliot, ever composed, swirled his beer bottle between his fingers. “So what you’re saying is . . . it was a total success?”

I huffed a laugh. “Shockingly, yes.”

Mateo snorted. “I feel like we should have handed out helmets at the door. We had twinks, lesbians, a chaotic bisexual alliance, and Jason, who I’m convinced was dropped off on this planet as a cosmic joke.”

Elliot smirked. “He’s your spiritual successor.”

Mateo pointed a finger at him. “Don’t curse me like that.”

I shook my head, grinning. “Man, I thought Jason and Emery were going to come to blows before they somehow bonded over inappropriate lesbian questions.”

Mateo took a long sip of his beer. “Yeah, how did that happen? One second, she looked ready to murder him, and the next, they were leaving arm in arm like besties.”

I exhaled. “It was either a miracle or a hostage situation. I still haven’t decided which.”

Elliot, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during the chaos, finally spoke. “The kid I talked to—Jake—he needed tonight. You could see it all over him.”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

Mateo sighed, tapping his bottle against the table. “Same with Jamie. The way he lit up when he saw people actually walk through the door? Man, that was everything.”

I smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that happy.”

Mateo ran a hand through his hair. “You guys think this will actually last? Like, will kids keep coming?”

I exhaled, leaning forward. “I hope so. It’s gonna take work, but—yeah, I think they will.”

Mateo nodded. “Yeah.”

We all sat there for a second, soaking it in.

Because this was real now.

We’d actually done it.

Elliot smirked. “So what you’re saying is you two are now officially responsible for the fragile queer youth of this school?”

Mateo groaned. “God help us.”

“God help them ,” Elliot corrected with a smart-assed look.

I took a sip of my drink, shaking my head. “I still can’t believe it actually happened.”

Mateo exhaled. “I really can’t believe Jason’s parents showed up.”

I snorted. “That was iconic.”

Elliot nodded. “I liked them.”

Mateo shook his head. “Jason’s mom is a force. I thought she was gonna fight me.”

I grinned. “You were terrified.”

“I was cautious,” he corrected.

Elliot snorted. “Nah, man, you were two seconds from bolting.”

Mateo rolled his eyes. “Fine. I thought she was going to start throwing punches, but instead, she just threatened my career and then ordered a cookie.”

I smirked. “A true icon.”

Mateo huffed. “Honestly, I’d rather take my chances with her than with Jason. That kid’s a wildcard.”

Elliot took another sip of his beer. “Yeah, but admit it—you love him.”

Mateo scowled. “I do not.”

I grinned. “You totally do.”

Mateo groaned, rubbing his face. “I hate you both.”

Elliot chuckled, looking entirely too smug. “Hate is just gay love in disguise.”

Mateo flipped him off.

I laughed, shaking my head. “Man, I love this.”

Mateo sighed, leaning back. “Yeah.”

And then—

Then something shifted.

Mateo’s fingers tapped against the table, his expression growing more thoughtful, his shoulders tightening just a little.

I watched it happen in real time.

The walls going up. The quiet hesitation.

And I knew where his mind had gone.

I glanced at Elliot.

He saw it, too.

So I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “All right, man. Spill.”

Mateo blinked. “What?”

Elliot arched a brow. “Gabe.”

Mateo stiffened further.

I pressed on. “Come on. We know it’s in your head.”

Mateo hesitated.

Then he sighed, rubbing his jaw.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “It’s in my head.”

I watched him carefully.

The way he wasn’t looking at us. The way his fingers tightened around his beer bottle.

This was hard for him.

And for the first time since I’d met him—since we’d become the closest of friends—I saw it, the part of Mateo that wasn’t always confident, the part that doubted.

The part that carried more than he let on.

I softened my voice. “Talk to us, man.”

Mateo sighed, sitting up and rubbing his face. “I don’t even know where to start.”

I tilted my head. “When did you first realize it was him?”

“The second he walked in.” Mateo exhaled sharply. “I mean, I’ve known that kid since he was in middle school. I coached him through every season, and never—not once—did I think he might be gay.”

Mateo took a long sip of beer, staring at the counter. “I just . . . I know Gabe. Or at least, I thought I did. He’s one of my best players. He’s confident, a leader on the court. Hell, I’ve seen that kid trash-talk grown men during summer league.”

I nodded. “And yet, he was terrified to see you there.”

“Yeah.” Mateo let out a slow breath. “Although . . . I might’ve been more scared than him.”

The weight of that sat between us for a moment.

Then he muttered, “Jesus, I’ve probably spent years making him think I wouldn’t accept him.”

I frowned. “What? Why? No way.”

“Mike. Look at me.” Mateo gave me a dry look.

I scanned his broad shoulders, his square jaw. I thought about his walk that still screamed former athlete.

And on top of all that? He was the kid’s coach.

Mateo was the kind of guy teenage boys looked up to. The kind of guy queer boys probably didn’t know how to read—maybe even feared.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just keep thinking . . . what if I was part of why he never said anything? What if he spent years keeping his mouth shut because he thought I’d—” He exhaled. “I don’t know, treat him differently?”

The words sat heavy between us.

I could feel the guilt in them.

The regret.

Elliot finally spoke up. “You didn’t know.”

Mateo huffed. “Doesn’t mean I wasn’t blind.”

I reached out, squeezing his shoulder. “Mateo, you’re one of the best damn people I know. You love your players, and if Gabe couldn’t see that, then—”

Mateo shook his head. “It’s not about whether he saw it. It’s about whether I ever showed it.”

That shut me up.

Because I got it.

Mateo had spent years being a certain kind of man. A leader. A mentor. A coach. He had built himself into that role, made it his identity.

And now?

Now, he realized that maybe—just maybe—he hadn’t made enough room for the whole of who he was.

Not just for himself.

But for kids like Gabe.

After a long silence, he muttered, “It’s just . . . weird, y’know? I’ve always been so sure about being out. Like, I didn’t have some dramatic coming-out story. No trauma, no big rejection. It was just . . . whatever. I was gay, and that was that. I didn’t need to announce anything to anyone. Fuck the world.”

I nodded, listening.

Mateo stared down at his beer. “But tonight? Seeing him? It made me wonder if I’ve ever really let that part of me exist in certain spaces. I mean, I’m out, but I’m not like . . .” He gestured vaguely. “ Out out.”

I frowned. “You mean because of basketball?”

Mateo exhaled. “Because of everything. I coach boys. I’ve spent years being their role model, their guy, their safe space. Maybe, without meaning to, I’ve kept parts of myself separate from that.”

Elliot, ever the king of brutal honesty, arched a brow. “Are you saying you’re gay in the sheets, but straight in the streets?”

Mateo choked on his beer.

I smacked Elliot’s arm. “Jesus Christ, babe!”

Elliot just grinned, taking a sip of his drink. “Just checking my notes.”

Mateo wiped his mouth, glaring. “Fuck both of you.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Okay, look, maybe you haven’t been the most visible gay coach in America, but you know what? That doesn’t make you any less of a great mentor to your kids.”

Mateo stared at me.

I kept going. “Gabe showed up , didn’t he? He still walked into that room. Maybe part of him was terrified to see you there, but another part of him probably felt . . . relieved.”

Mateo’s jaw tightened.

I pressed on. “Because you being there means he isn’t alone. And now? Now, you get to be that person for him. You get to make sure he never feels like he has to hide again.”

The words settled deep.

Mateo nodded slowly, exhaling through his nose. “Yeah.”

Elliot raised his beer. “To Gabe. And to Coach Mateo Ricci, who just realized he’s been living in a closet this whole time.”

Mateo rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged at his lips.

I lifted my own bottle. “To whatever the hell just happened tonight.”

Mateo smirked. “And to the gayest sports bar in existence.”