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"People like her, like her family—like the dean. And all the entitled assholes of the world that consider themselves elite and above the rest of us. They know how to make demands, and they know how to use our weaknesses against us, because they're born honing those skills."
"I know the dean is threatening your job if we don't win this season," I say in understanding. I've known it for a while, guessed by the interactions that I've witnessed.
"Among other things," he says, offhandedly. "People like us are pawns in their games, and we go along with it because it's better than living in the gutters where we come from. We tell ourselves we can play the game and win, pull ourselves up to their level. But really, you just get deeper into the game, and they'll keep using you to get ahead. And then when they're done with you, they'll throw you out with yesterday's trash. That's why you need to get out of this deal with Aniyah Wilcox, and you need to focus on building your future without strings attached. Use your signing bonus to save, invest. Be smart, because when you're not useful to them anymore, you'll be nothing again."
My heart aches for him, and a few more pieces of what makes Bryant Nicks the way he is fall into place.
"What else is the dean trying to get you to do?"
"Doesn't matter. It'll never end. Which is why this will be my last year at Groveton either way. Don't drown yourself to save me, Jack."
"Even if I was willing to throw you under the bus, which I'm not—under any circumstances—my face and voice are in that video, too. Clearly and enthusiastically enjoying your attention."
"I can make sure it doesn't see the light of day."
"I'm not letting you drown to save me, either!" I yell, jumping out of my seat.
"Jack. I'm a forty-eight-year-old drunk. A fuck up. I've lived my life and I've played my cards—poorly." He looks up at me with pleading eyes. "You have a chance for greatness. True greatness. To not only join the so-called elite, but to own them. Don't miss your chance."
"Don't act like your life is over. You're fucking amazing, Bryant. You inspired me to quit being a dipshit."
"I manipulated you into not being a dipshit. I took advantage of my position and I violated the contract?—"
"Don't you dare say you're sorry for what happened between us."
"I'm not sorry," he snaps. I'm momentarily dumbstruck by his raised voice and sincere tone. "I should be sorry, but I'm not. I'm not a good enough person to regret this thing between us. I think we were good for each other, until we weren't."
His voice trails off. "My only regret is that I can't stop watching you, wanting you, craving you. If you want the truth, I don't just want you to cut off the deal with Aniyah because she'll just keep taking advantage of you. I want you to cut it off so I don't have to watch you be happy with her."
"It's all fake."
"You're too good an actor."
"I never had to fake it with you. Why can't we just?—"
"What, Jack? Why can't we just say to hell with all of them, come out as a gay couple with an almost thirty-year age gap and live happily ever after?"
I feel every cell in my body wilt in the defeat I hear in his voice. We live in a conservative town in Texas. Both our lives and careers revolve around football. There have been very, very few openly gay players in the NFL, and even fewer that have gone on to have decent careers. It could be career suicide. But it wouldn't be impossible.
One look at Bryant tells me he's not willing to go that far with me, to take that risk. And that hurts.
Am I willing? Is this something that I want?
It's overwhelming to even think about. After six months of obsessively lusting after one man, after pushing myself beyond my limits to prove myself to him, and then finally admitting to myself that I've fallen in love with him along the way... I can't really imagine my life without him.
"I suppose it was naïve of me to think I could marry Aniyah and still keep you. I didn't realize that being with you wasn't an option either way."
Bryant looks away from me and drains his cup. I feel like a fucking idiot.
Forget looking like a pussy, or being a pathetic simp, or any of this macho bullshit that I let hold me down this whole time. I'm an idiot that can't think past his dick to realize when someone doesn't want them. I'm really no better than Aniyah.
The heat of anger and humiliation rushes over me, and I stride for the door, turning around at the last moment, because I’m weak as fuck.
"If you don’t want to be with me, then why the fuck do you care if I marry her?"
“I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of. By anyone. Including me.”
“With all due respect, Coach, that’s bullshit.”
