“They have an LGBTQ group at school,” Ricky said in his matter-of-fact way. “Maybe they have that at college too.”
God, this kid.
Mom asked Ricky to go to his room to retrieve his latest science project to show me, but I knew it was because she wanted us to speak privately.
“I wondered,” Mom said hesitantly, then looked at Dad. “We both did.”
“What?” My head reeled. “You did?”
Dad winced. “It was only a passing conversation a couple of years ago.”
I felt tears forming behind my eyes, and I tried blinking them away. But the crushing force of release was more than I could handle right then. “I never wanted to burden you guys. You have so many things going on with work and Ricky and stuff.”
Mom’s hand flew to her mouth. “Are you saying that’s why you waited—”
“No,” I replied. “I mean, maybe subconsciously? But it wasn’t until last fall that I realized it about myself for the first time.”
“I’ve read that it can take time for some,” Mom said.
“Don’t ever feel guilty about any of this, okay?” Dad reached for my hand, and I saw that his eyes were a bit watery too.
“So…Kellan?” Mom waggled her eyebrows.
My cheeks heated. “I…uh, yeah.”
“Uh-huh.” She winked. “Kellan seems like a good person. Cute too.”
Before I could flush even more, Ricky burst back into the room, holding some sort of circuit board he’d made at school. “I like Kellan. He’s my friend.”
“You’re his friend too. And mine.” I glanced at my parents. “He’s the coach’s son, which makes it sort of impossible, and I wouldn’t want to put him in an uncomfortable situation.”
“Maybe give it time.” Mom patted my hand as I looked over Ricky’s project with him. “See what happens this fall when the season and any tournaments are officially over.”
“Yeah, okay.”
That felt a world away, though I supposed I was being dramatic. Suddenly, the baseball schedule felt so long and cumbersome. At the same time, it was my life. Was I willing to give it all up for a guy? The question of the hour, but not something I needed to decide right now. Besides, he’d have to be willing too, and he’d already told me in no uncertain terms that we could only be friends. Until we weren’t.
18
Kellan
The last game of the season was bittersweet, but everything had felt different these past few days. Donovan had come out to Hollister and his parents, and I was trying to offer him support because I knew it was a lot to wrap his brain around. Everyone was on their own timeline, and if he’d felt ready to rip that Band-Aid off before we’d even made it to regionals, who was I to question it?
As I lined up the bats near the deck and threw back a ball that had escaped Girard’s glove, I tried not to look in Donovan’s direction. But damn, it was hard. His smile always warmed me to my core. And now, behind his jokes and the usual overconfident exterior, I couldn’t help noticing the relief in his eyes. He also seemed more fragile after baring himself to his best friend and family. Because anything could ruin that house of cards he’d carefully built over the years, especially when he’d only just laid the foundation of who he was to become.
We’d texted all week, even spoke on the phone the day after he’d admitted his sexuality to his family, and he’d told me how cool and supportive Ricky had been too. It felt like we were just a couple of friends supporting each other, but there was still that underlying tension we couldn’t do anything about, not when there was still a summer of tourneys and practices left.
We’d given in to our longing, the blowjobs had been amazing, and now we’d navigate how to keep acting casual in front of each other. This was the baseball life; it took up our time for the better portion of a year, and since we both loved being involved, it meant we were relegated to the friend zone. And even then, only in private.
It might’ve been my imagination, but I could feel his parents’ scrutiny when I’d walked over to the stands to chat with Ricky about the upcoming finals. Thankfully, Ricky seemed oblivious to the self-conscious greeting between us, and when he launched into a discussion about the first and second seed teams, it felt nearly normal.
As I returned to the dugout before the start of the game, I briefly met Hollister’s gaze on the first base line. He was the first to look away, and that was enough to make me feel awkward all over again.
Christ, why did this have to be so strange? It wasn’t like Donovan and I were dating. In fact, he hadn’t even told anybody that we’d been intimate, only that we’d become friends. So why did I feel so on display?