Page 83 of These Secret Years

“Thanks,” he says. “You’re keeping up?”

I shrug. “I told you once, didn’t I? You’re not the only one on the team in the closet.”

His eyes blow wide open. It’s almost funny.

I grin. “I mean—just statistically, it was impossible for you to be the only one to begin with.”

His eyes narrow back to two dark slits, and he gives me a wry grin. “What the hell do you know about statistics?”

I finally laugh, and it sounds genuine. “Not much, but that one I’m familiar with.”

“Who?”

I knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself, but I shake my head. “The only thing I’ll tell you is there’s more than one. Not including you.”

His wheels are turning so hard, it’s actually cute. “Gay or bi?”

“Oh, adamantly bi. So they claim.”

“You’re killing me right now.”

“Just keep your eyes open. You know, if you and your someone don’t work out. You’ve got decent options.”

That only seems to intrigue him more. “You know, I’m still…” he trails off again, but this time, I have no idea what he was about to say.

“Still what?”

He takes a deep breath. “You look different, but I still think you’re beautiful. I really do hope you’re okay.”

That stops my heart. “I am,” I somehow manage to say.

“It feels weird with you—not to at least like—hug. Or something.”

“We can hug,” I say, but I don’t know what part of me is speaking. This next part though, “but I would totally understand if you don’t want to.” Yeah. That sounds more like me.

It’s got him second-guessing, which, that was the point, right?

“I should probably go.”

I nod, wondering if the slime I feel is visible. If that’s what looks different about me. “See you around, maybe.”

“Yeah,” he says, turning for the door. “I’ll see you around.”

The way I’m fighting back tears when he leaves shocks and terrifies me. Like I don’t know what his presence here unlocked, but it’s something I’d much rather keep suppressed. Deep. Very, very deep. So deep I don’t want to even remember it exists as something I’m capable of feeling.

I tell myself it’s just nostalgia. Just a memory of myself I didn’t completely hate—that it’s got nothing to do with him.

I hope his boyfriend is kind. I hope he makes him feel confident and secure. I hope Knight is loved the way he deserves to be loved. The way he’s used to being loved. I hope the sad boy finally finds a way to be happy.

Chapter Eighteen

KNIGHT

Things fall apart fast when they fall apart. It starts with losing the bowl game on New Year’s Day. It’s followed very shortly with Blake’s public announcement that he proposed to a longtime girlfriend I didn’t even know he had. He’s only twenty, so I saw none of this coming. Spring semester starts with me in a shitty, angry mood because I’m not allowed to be depressed.

To be fair, I’m the one who won’t allow it, but what fucking good would moping do, anyway? I’m actually devastated, and I feel like an utter failure at everything. My dad’s pep talks aren’t helping either. It’s a lot of “Football isn’t everything,” and “This doesn’t define you,” and “You’re so damn smart, Knight. You could do anything you want.”

It hurts, and it’s humiliating. Wanna know who never lost a bowl game? Yeah—I’m the first of my line to accomplish that.