by Felix Brooks
Jake helped him to the bed and sat holding him until Waseem regained control. “It’s Brent.” He handed Jake his phone with the message showing on the screen.
Jake pursed his lips. “Something must’ve happened.”
“Yeah, but what? I can’t get hold of him to sort it out. I love him, Jake. I can’t lose him. If he didn’t want to be with me, that would be one thing. But his parents must have gotten to him somehow, poisoned his mind against me.”
“Do you think they found out about you two?”
“I don’t see how. But anything is possible.” Waseem felt powerless. He could work this out with Brent if only he could talk to him. Where was he? Not knowing was driving Waseem crazy.
Waseem’s phone rang, and for a brief second his heart rose, hoping it was Brent. But no, it was that loser, Niels. Why was Niels calling him?
“Dude.” Niels’ voice sounded desperate. “You’ve got to come over to my place and tell Claire it’s okay. She refuses to leave the apartment, and I can’t get her to stop crying.”
Waseem froze. Was there some apocalypse he didn’t know about? “What’s going on?”
“You mean you haven’t seen it? The story on BallerGab?”
Waseem’s heart sank into his stomach. He looked at Jake. “Open up the BallerGab website on your phone.”
As Jake typed, Waseem tapped his fingers on the bed. The expression on Jake’s face told him everything he needed to know, even before Jake handed him the phone.
But that still didn’t prepare him for the wave of emotions that rolled over him when he saw the headline in black and white.
Is Brent Adams Gay?
Underneath the headline, a video showed a still image of Claire and Niels, though from the angle you could barely see their faces.
Waseem hit play. As he watched, his own phone still at his ear, Niels kept saying he was sorry, over and over again. They didn’t know they were being recorded. They never would have had that conversation in public if they thought someone would do this.
At that moment, Waseem didn’t have any fucks to give over how sorry Niels and Claire were. He wasn’t mad at them—he was terrified for Brent.
No wonder Brent wanted to break up with him.
Waseem felt ripped in two. If his being with Brent would cause the guy more stress, then Waseem ought to bow out gracefully. At least while Brent was trying to get his life back in order.
Another part, though, insisted he should be there for Brent, to comfort him, to help him through. He refused to live without the guy.
Who was he kidding? Finals were in two weeks. How could they work this out before the semester ended? If Brent moved back to his parents’ house in Charlotte, Waseem wouldn’t be able to get to him. They’d go their separate ways, and that would be the end of it.
He had to fight for Brent. But how? Anything he did would make things worse. He didn’t want to put Brent through that.
He ended the call with Niels. He wasn’t even sure he’d said goodbye. He only knew his world was falling apart, and he didn’t know how to stop it.
“What do I do?” Waseem asked Jake. “I need to keep my distance, right? At least until this blows over?” That’s what Brent had asked him to do, after all.
Jake pursed his lips and rubbed his palm across his fist. “Emmett and I wouldn’t be together now if we had just accepted it when the other person pushed us away. We faced a lot of obstacles, and there were times we wanted to give up. But we didn’t do that. We fought to be together.”
Jake was right. Brent needed to know that Waseem would be there for him through the bad times. “Should I give him space until he figures out how to handle this?”
“Honestly, I think he needs you plastered to his side, supporting him every step of the way. Even if he doesn’t agree right now. Remind him of how good you two are together, the future you could have. You’ll get through this.”
Waseem nodded. “I’ll find him, then. I don’t know how. I don’t know what I’ll do to convince him to take me back. But I can’t let him go through this alone.”
Waseem headed back outside and walked to Brent’s apartment again. The sun was high, and it was starting to heat up. It was almost May, after all. In North Carolina, that was summer.
He knocked on Brent’s door. Still no answer. Still no car.
Waseem looked around, watching for him, but that was foolish. Niels’ place was just down the block. Maybe it would be good to clear the air with him and Claire after all.
When he got there, the place was kind of a mess. But Niels wasn’t kidding. Claire’s face was splotched and puffy, and wet with tears.
That, more than anything else, made Waseem want to take out whoever had sold the recording. He didn’t want her to feel like this was her fault. Idle speculation at a party shouldn’t end up on a national sports gossip site. Some people had no scruples.
Waseem hugged her, and she cried on his shoulder. “I’m so stupid. I wish I’d never transferred here. I ruined your life.”
Waseem shushed her. “My life isn’t ruined, and neither is Brent’s. Look at Emmett. His situation seemed grim when he was outed last semester. And now he’s getting ready to sign a million dollar contract. In a month, no one will care about that video.”
She looked up at him and sniffled. “Promise?”
“Promise. Don’t waste another moment worrying about those ruthless bastards.” He kissed her forehead. “It’s a beautiful day. You should be outside enjoying it. I’m going to go wait by Brent’s door until he gets home.”
Chapter 18
Brent stood outside Seth’s dorm room, staring at the floor as he knocked. He hated being in a position where he had to ask for help, but the situation was urgent. He didn’t have time to let pride get in the way.
Seth looked surprised to see him. “What can I do for you, man?” he asked, his tone kind.
“I remember you saying earlier in the semester—or maybe it was last semester—that you needed a more powerful computer for all the calculations you had to do. And I was wondering, do you still have your old computer?”
“Yeah, come on in. You don’t look so good. Your computer die?”
Brent figured he might as well tell him the truth. “My parents repossessed it. Did you see the BallerGab story?”
Seth shook his head and shuffled his feet. “Let me guess. They outed you?”
Brent nodded and explained the situation. “The main thing is, I worry my parents will destroy my backup data. If I could borrow your extra computer just for a few days, until I figure out what I’m gonna do…”
Brent couldn’t breathe. How would a few days fix this? He needed a job. He’d have to find something for the summer, once finals were over. And a place to live. Maybe he could sublet Niels’ apartment over the summer, while Niels was back home?
And then there was tuition. He couldn’t even begin to figure that out. It seemed like his football career was over.
Coming out of a daze, Brent realized that Seth was booting up the computer. “I’ve deleted the data off of it,” Seth said, “but all the standard programs are loaded. If your stuff is on the cloud, it should be pretty simple to download it, as long as you’ve got your login ID and password.”
“Yeah, I’m probably the only person in the world who still memorizes passwords. My parents have no concept of privacy. If I wrote down passwords or stored them on my computer, there’s a good chance they’d snoop through my stuff and find them. Which they’re probably doing right now, anyway.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could do something.”
“Are you kidding? You are doing something. If I can get my data back, that’s a huge hurdle out of the way.”
Seth nodded. “All yours.” He stepped away from the desk and motioned for Brent to take over.
Brent logged into his online password manager and pulled up his cloud storage site. Within a couple of minutes, his data was downloading to the new machine. He almost cried, he was so rel
ieved.
He sat on the bed, not really wanting to move. He couldn’t impose on Seth, but he didn’t know where to go, what to do. “I guess my next priority is to get a phone.” He shook his head. “I hate to spend the money, but I think it’s necessary.”
“I’ve got a cheap plan. It’s not unlimited, so you couldn’t be texting all the time. But it would be something, until you get back on your feet.”
Brent nodded. “When Waseem and I started dating, I set up a bank account of my own. I moved a little money into it every week—not too much at a time, or my dad would get suspicious. But I’ve got a few hundred dollars. And I won’t starve, at least for the next month, because my meal plan at the cafeteria is paid for.”
Seth shook his head. “This sucks, man.”
Brent shook his head. “I can’t think about that. Feeling sorry for myself won’t put a roof over my head. First, I need a phone. Maybe Waseem could drive me to the mall or something. Do you mind if I leave this computer running here for a while?”
“Sure, check back when you’re done shopping. I’ll write down the name of the plan I have.”
“I appreciate that. Now I just need to figure out where Waseem is, when I can’t text him.”
Seth pulled out his phone. “Do you know his digits?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“That’s okay, I’ll text Jake.” After a couple of texts back and forth, Seth said, “Jake thinks Waseem is at your place, waiting for you.”
“Oh, shit! I should go, then. Thanks for everything, Seth. You’re a true friend.”
***
When he crossed the street from campus property to the public sidewalk, a camera crew was waiting. He kept walking. He wouldn’t let them interfere in his life.
“Mr. Adams, do you have any comment about the story on BallerGab?” called a brunette reporter with tanned skin and too much lipstick.
“Football, you bet.” He kept walking. They followed for a while, calling to him. But he ignored him, and they gave up.
If forced to make a statement, Brent wouldn’t lie. He was tired of this masquerade. Whatever it cost him to come out couldn’t be worse than the secrecy and fear of discovery.
When Brent got to his apartment, Waseem was sitting on the front steps. He rose and said, “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t be here.”
“Why not?” Brent unlocked the door. The guy looked kind of pale—he must have seen the video. “You could’ve waited inside—that’s why I gave you a key.”
Waseem followed him into the living room. “After that last text you sent, I didn’t think it was my place.”
Brent scowled. What was the last text he’d sent? “You mean when I said to get lunch without me?”
Waseem stared. “No, the one after that. When you said this thing between us was a mistake.”
Brent blinked a moment before the realization hit. Then, anger boiled in his chest. “Those fuckers,” he said under his breath.
“Brent…what’s going on?” Waseem’s voice wavered, thick with tension. He looked haggard and a little desperate.
Brent wrapped him in his arms. “I didn’t send that text.” He explained about his parents taking his stuff. “Apparently my mother figured out the passcode to unlock my phone. It’s my own fault for using my brother’s birthday.”
Waseem said in a small voice, “You don’t want to break up?”
Brent kissed him, long and hard and deep. “Not ever.”
Waseem buried his face in Brent’s neck, and Brent held him there for a long time. Then, Waseem looked up. His chin wavered. “I feel like this is my fault.”
“You’re not responsible for my choices.”
Waseem pressed his palms to Brent’s and intertwined their fingers. “I hoped it wouldn’t really be this bad.”
“Oh, it gets worse. After the lease is up on this apartment next month, I’ve got no place to live. No money for food.” Brent shook his head. “I need a job.”
“Do you think maybe they’ll change their minds, once the shock wears off?”
“They’re manipulating me. They’ll welcome me back home, as long as I break up with you. I won’t do it. I’ll figure out how to get by on my own.”
“I’ll help any way I can.”
Brent nodded. “Right now, I need a ride to the mall to get a phone.”
“Okay. That’s a start.”
***
Riding home from the mall, Brent wasn’t even curious. He didn’t care what features his new phone had. The azaleas blooming along the way might as well have been ash. Everything seemed meaningless.
He couldn’t be angry. What point was there in that? It wouldn’t get him a car. It wouldn’t put food on the table.
Monday, he would go to the financial aid office to find out what options he had. He had a partial football scholarship, and maybe he’d qualify for more help now that his parents weren’t supporting him.
It was pretty late to get a summer job. All the best positions would be filled by now. But he could go to the career center and see what was available—maybe there’d be something he could do.
Something to cover his expenses, at least. There was no way he could save up enough for tuition in three months.
Waseem’s voice cut through the despair. “I’m interviewing for a teaching job at a school not far from campus. If I get it, we can rent a place together that’s walking distance from your classes.”
“Maybe. But Waseem, I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me. That’s not right.”
“I don’t care whether it’s right. I just want you to be okay.”
Brent’s head drooped. “I’m dragging you down with me.”
“You’re not dragging me down. Let me lift you up.”
“Waseem, listen to me. When I asked you not to take a job halfway across the state, I didn’t mean for you to end up at some rinky-dink little school so I could mooch off you. I want you to have your dreams. Especially since it looks like I’m not getting mine.”
Waseem shook his head, his voice firm. “I’m not giving up on you playing football next fall. We’ll find a way. There’s got to be some financial aid.”
“Maybe, but in the meantime, you gave up the job you wanted so you could stay here with me, and now it looks like I may not even be here.”
“Not exactly.” Waseem hesitated, then continued, “I went to the final interview for the Raleigh job, just in case. I just saw the email this morning—they offered me the position.”
“That’s great!” Brent’s excitement rose. “You have to take it.”
“I can’t leave you. Not after your family has abandoned you.”
Brent thought a minute. He didn’t much like the idea that was forming in his mind. But it was a solution. Maybe the best solution.
His heart ached at the thought of it. But if he and Waseem were meant to be, they’d get through it. “Take the job. I’ll tell my family we broke up.”
“No. I can’t abandon you. I don’t want us to be apart.”
“I don’t want that, either. It’s only for a year. After that, we’ll see where things stand.”
Waseem was quiet for a long time. “Maybe. I guess I could deal with seeing you just once a week, if it’s only for a year.”
Tears filled Brent’s eyes, and his chest cracked open. “We can’t see each other, Waseem. I won’t lie to my parents and take their money. We have to really break up. And then, after I graduate, if we still feel the same way, we can get back together.”
Waseem pulled into a parking lot. His hands trembled. “I can’t see you for a year?”
Brent hated what this was doing to Waseem, even more than what it was doing to him. “It’s a solution.”
“There’s got to be a better way. I can’t lose you.”
Brent shrugged. He said in a teasing tone, “Hey, I’m the one taking the bigger risk here. I’ve been attracted to exactly one man my whole life. You’re attracted to five or six guys a day.”
“I trust you. I know you won’t screw around. If you can’t wait for me, then it wasn’t meant to be.”
“I’ll wait for you. I promise.”
They hugged over the gearshift, holding each other for a long time. Finally, Waseem pulled back and kissed Brent’s temple before driving back onto the road. No words spoken. No words to say.
Brent wouldn’t let himself think about it, not yet. Because he was with Waseem now, and their time together was precious. He’d have time to be sad tomorrow, when it was over.
Chapter 19
Monday, Waseem walked to the athletic building. Purple rhododendrons bloomed along the brick facade, the color bold and strong. Determined, Waseem pushed through the double glass doors. Fuck if he was giving up on Brent without a fight.
He knocked on the door to Coach Swanson’s office. The faint scent of cologne couldn’t hide the odor of sweat that permeated the building. “Did Brent come and talk to you yet?”
“Not yet.” The hard set of his jaw said he’d heard about the BallerGab article, but the arch of his brows said he didn’t know what to make of it.
“Do you know of any scholarships he might qualify for?” Waseem worked to keep the anger out of his voice. “His parents cut him off.”
The coach’s face flushed. He rose and put his hands on his hips. “Nobody fucks with my football team like that.”
“I’m trying to figure out how to help him. If I can get a teaching job nearby, we can move in together, so that would be one less expense for him.”
The coach scowled. He hesitated a moment before saying, “I hate to see you wasting your talents. I know teaching is what you want to do, but if you could be happy just coaching, we’ve got an assistant job here—”
“An assistant coach, here?” Had Waseem heard that right? “You think I’m good enough?”
“Well, yeah. I’d have offered you the job sooner, but you said teaching was your calling.”