Matt busted out a bark of laughter. It was so damn unexpected. “Okay, Coach.”
“He’s my favorite cousin,” he added, making his point clear. “He’s marrying his boyfriend—er, fiancé—and I’m going to the wedding.”
“That . . . sounds nice,” Matt offered.
“Right, okay,” Coach said, getting down to business. “Dean Warner will shit a brick. Kinda looking forward to that. I’ll call our PR people and see if they can keep a lid on this. The last thing we need is for the National Championship to be about something other than football. You don’t need to be a poster child for anything. You’re there to play football and win.”
“So I’m still playing?” Matt asked.
“Well, who the fuck else are we gonna get?” Coach grinned. “I’ll take care of the dean.”
“And my scholarship?”
Coach waved away his question. “He can’t touch you anymore. You’ve honored your scholarship and then some.”
Matt nodded. “And if we can’t keep a lid on it? If the team finds out?”
Coach leaned back. “Well, it’s a possibility, I can’t lie. And it’d be a damn shame if this is what costs us the Championship. So I’d like to think my boys are better than that. We’ll deal with this as it comes, but I’ve got your back.”
Matt felt tears welling up, so he quickly blinked them away. He turned around, taking a moment to collect himself. He’d always hoped Coach would support him if he came out, but still, having it actually happen—well, it meant something. Really meant something. This was fucking football for god’s sake, and at a Southern Baptist college. This was kind of a fucking miracle.
“Thanks, Coach,” Matt managed to get out.
“You’re welcome, son. Now you head on back to your dorm and try not to panic too much, okay?”
“Yes, sir.” Matt headed toward the door.
“Lancaster?” Coach called, making him pause. Matt looked back. “So, um, any idea what I wear to a gay wedding? Like linen or a summer suit? I bought this kind of wild paisley tie. Would that be good?”
Matt smiled as he shook his head. “Coach, I’m not that kind of gay.”
“Right, sure.” Coach waved him off. “I’ll see you at practice.”
Matt headed out and actually managed a chuckle. A wild paisley tie. Coach had a few surprises himself.
Matt looked at the time. Trevor would be getting out of his last final exam soon, so he headed toward that side of campus. He waited outside the econ building as students trickled out until Trevor finally exited. Matt had sent him a warning text that he’d be waiting, but Trevor still looked a bit surprised. They certainly weren’t out in public much together.
Trevor shoved his hands in his jeans and headed over, looking exhausted from studying all night. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
“I’ll walk you back to your dorm,” Matt said and turned that way.
He could feel Trevor’s questioning look, but his boyfriend fell in step beside him. “Are we coming out of the closet?” Trevor joked. “Do you want to hold hands?”
“Not funny,” Matt replied. “Seriously not funny right now. My dad called a reporter, and he may be forcing me out of the closet.”
“Seriously? Shit, I’m sorry,” Trevor said, almost reaching out, but then shoving his hands even deeper into his jeans. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing, we just wait. I told Coach.”
“Wow, okay, wow. How’d that go?”
Matt smiled. “He was awesome actually. Said the dean couldn’t touch me.”
“Yeah, I told you that too,” Trevor mumbled.
“Don’t get on my case right now,” Matt bit out. “I don’t need a lecture on being a brave example for others. I like my privacy, okay?”
“Fine,” Trevor snapped back. “So what does he want me to do?”
“Who?” Matt asked, confused.
“Coach. If a reporter calls me.”
“Why would a reporter call you?”
Trevor stopped and grit his teeth. “You didn’t tell him about me?”
“Why would I do that?” Matt asked, stepping off the main walkway and into the secluded courtyard of some building he’d never noticed before.
“Because I’m your fucking boyfriend,” Trevor hissed, once they were out of earshot of people. “Did you even think about the blowback on me?”
Matt looked away. He hadn’t. He really hadn’t. But it was possible that reporters could uncover it. Trevor had been there when the police questioned him, been there at the hospital. Hell, they had definitely shared some PDA at the hospital. If a reporter went snooping, it would be pretty obvious that he had a boyfriend. And seeing as only about five percent of the student body at Bodine was Asian, well, yeah . . . it wouldn’t take a lot of investigating.
“I just didn’t think about it,” Matt weakly offered.
“Oh that makes it so much better,” Trevor retorted. “And if you get outed, then what?”
“What do you mean?” Matt asked.
“Will you mention me then? Or is just better to be gay in an asexual way? If I don’t exist, you’re not really a practicing homosexual, is that it?”
“Fuck, calm down,” Matt snapped back, looking around to make sure they were still relatively alone. “I told my dad because of you.”
“Ha.” Trevor laughed bitterly. “So you told him about me?”
Matt looked away.
“Yeah, didn’t think so,” Trevor replied, turning away. “Look, I’m exhausted. I’m gonna go crash.”
“Trevor!” Matt called to his retreating boyfriend.
“What?” Trevor stopped, but didn’t look back.
“Will you still be there for the game?”
“Yeah, I’ll still fucking be there. I’m not a heartless bastard,” Trevor said, but he refused to look at Matt as he headed off.
Matt watched him go. He knew not to push. Trevor was pissed. But he was pissed too. He was pissed about all of it. And if he went after Trevor, he knew it would only get worse. Because Trevor had been right. He hadn’t mentioned him because having a boyfriend made it real for people. They’d start making dick comments like, did he take it up the ass? And even though it shouldn’t bother him, for some reason it really fucking did. He just wasn’t as fucking evolved as Trevor. Deep down, a small part of him was still ashamed. And he was terrified to admit that to Trevor. To anyone. Because he really wished he was a hell of a lot stronger.
The following morning, Matt sat on the bus as they headed to Kansas City. Coach had reached out to the NCAA support programs in case Bodine’s PR department (not exactly savvy in these matters) bungled it. But it had been less than twenty-four hours since Matt had received the tip, so it wasn’t a lot of time to prep. Plus, Matt had been very clear that he didn’t want to make a preemptive announcement in order to get ahead of the story, so all anyone could really do was see how this played out. He’d been on edge for hours, waiting for the story to hit the news cycle. But, so far, it hadn’t. Maybe his father had decided not to sell him out after all. Or maybe the reporter was worried about libel. His father wasn’t exactly a reliable source.
After Matt had made a mess of things with Trevor, he’d headed back to his quad. As usual, his roommates had been nothing but supportive. But they were worried too. None of them wanted the shit to hit the fan before their big game. So now they were all just waiting with dread.
So Matt was actually relieved when Connor headed down the aisle with a grim look on his face. Connor slumped into the seat next to Matt. Luckily, since it was such a long drive, the college had rented four buses so they could all spread out.
Connor handed Matt his phone. A website was already loaded up on it. “It’s a blog,” Connor explained. “Not a real news site, but people are picking up the story fast.”
“Fuck,” Matt said, dropping his head back. “What does it say?”
“It begins by saying that your father assaulted you,” Connor replied.
“That he’s the real reason for your stitches instead of you falling on ice while chopping wood.”
“Okay, read it to me. Let’s get this over with.”
Connor nodded. “‘Division II Bodine quarterback was briefly hospitalized after his father assaulted him on Thanksgiving Day,’” Connor read aloud. “Then it talks about your injuries and how it might affect your play—”
“Which it won’t.” Matt sighed. The stitches had already dissolved.
“Right. Uh, then it says, ‘Rumors abound as to what caused the altercation, but a close source says it’s because Matt Lancaster came out of the closet. Is Bodine’s quarterback gay?’”
Matt groaned and slid lower in his seat. “Do readers believe it?”
“Comments are about fifty-fifty. But it’s going viral on a shit-ton of college feeds and sports sites.”
Matt nodded, then pulled out his headphones. He was at the front of the bus and planned to hunker down for the rest of the ride. Connor understood, promised his undying support, and headed back to his own seat.
By the time they reached their hotel in Kansas City, Matt could feel the stares of his teammates upon him. Most of them just seemed confused, but a few gave him disgusted looks. He wanted to run and hide, but that wasn’t an option. So he trudged into the lobby with the rest of the team, and followed Coach Boyd into a conference room for their room assignments and instructions.
“All right, get your room assignments, get settled, then meet back here in an hour. We’ll have dinner brought in during our team meeting.” Coach Boyd looked up at his players, who were all unusually quiet. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, then crossed his arms and took a strong stance. Better to address this head on, he’d told Matt. “I take it you’ve all seen the, er, social media thingamajig.”
“Is it true?” Fischer called from the other side of the room, standing as far away from Matt as he could get.
“That my dad’s an asshole? Yes,” Matt said, meeting Fischer’s eyes unflinchingly.
“Not that. That you’re a fag—” Fischer started.
“Watch it!” Coach Boyd barked.
But it was too late. As soon as the word landed, the noise suddenly went from an uneasy quiet to a dull roar. In a room full of almost a hundred guys, there were a hell of a lot of opinions, speculating, and debating being shouted about.
“It doesn’t matter,” O’Donnell said loudly, pushing through the throng of guys to check his room assignment and grab his key. Players turned in surprise at his words. Enough for folks to stop and stare. It sure as hell shocked Matt too.
But O’Donnell acted completely nonplussed now that the spotlight was on him. He jerked his head toward Fischer. “Let’s go, Fischer. You’re rooming with me.”
“Seriously?” Fischer snapped.
“Yeah. What’s your problem? Do I snore?” O’Donnell retorted, purposefully misunderstanding Fischer’s annoyance.
“No, how can you be—”
“Fine with this?” O’Donnell finished. “Because I am. The only thing I care about right now is winning tomorrow. And we need Lancaster to do that.”
Matt hadn’t expected O’Donnell to put his neck out on the line, but he appreciated it. “Thanks,” Matt replied.
“What the hell? Everyone in here’s a bunch of homo lovers,” Fischer fumed, looking around the room for support.
“Oh fuck off, Fischer,” Connor snapped, coming to stand next to Matt, crossing his arms and assuming his most menacing pose. A few others echoed his sentiment.
“We don’t need your sorry ass,” Damian added, heading through the group to join them. “We’ve got Jamal.” This caused a few cheers and laughter.
“So his offensive lineman, his wide receiver, and his tight end all couldn’t care less about any rumors,” Ryan said, staring down the team, adding himself to the group of support. “If anyone’s got a problem with Lancaster, you can come speak to us.”
The room shifted awkwardly, but nobody said anything.
Furious, Fischer stormed out of the room. “Screw this shit,” he flung back. Matt could tell some of the other players were uncomfortable too, but everyone else kept quiet.
Jamal moved first in the uneasy stillness. “Well, I’m cool with it,” Jamal said, grabbing his room key. “I mean, hell, I’m a Democrat. I’d have voted for Obama.”
Matt let out a surprised laugh, and others started laughing as well.
“Me too, man,” one of their defensive linemen called out.
“Why is this such a big fucking confession?” Matt asked. “Obama won. More than half of America had to vote for him.” More laughter out of this, and a few denials from those who hadn’t, but the mood was no longer explosive.
“All right, all right, enough of the politics!” Coach Boyd stepped forward. “We’ve got a Championship to win!” This roused the team back together as they cheered in affirmation, even if a few voices still seemed uncertain about the events of the last ten minutes. But Coach got everyone back on track, sending players to their hotel rooms.
Matt took the stairs to avoid any awkward elevator conversation, so Connor beat him to their room.
“You okay?” Connor asked as soon as he entered.
“Funny thing is,” Matt said, tossing his bag on the bed. “I never even admitted I was gay.”
“If you weren’t, you would’ve denied it,” Connor pointed out.
“Yeah.” Matt nodded. “Guess you’re right. Could’ve gone a lot worse, I suppose.”
“Look, it’s still just a rumor,” Connor replied. “The reporter didn’t have enough evidence or whatever to go to real news outlets, so they’ll watch what they say tomorrow.”
“Sure,” Matt said with a frustrated sigh. “They’ll just mention the ‘nasty rumors’ and shout questions at me.”
“So, say you support equal rights, and to confirm or deny the allegation is an insult to the LGBTQ community, because no reporter would ask any other player if they were straight.”
Matt smiled. “Shit, that’s pretty good.”
“Remember, my dad’s a lawyer.” Connor smirked. “He taught me to talk my way around anything.”
“Thanks,” Matt said as he collapsed onto his bed.
It was hard to believe that tomorrow it would all be over. Win or lose, it was the end of his time as Bodine’s quarterback. The end of playing football. That should have scared the shit out of him. But what worried him the most was: would he be good at anything else?
Trevor checked into the cool boutique hotel in Kansas City that he’d found online. He’d decided to splurge a week ago, using his signing bonus, because he’d wanted a place where they could escape after the game tomorrow. Now he wondered if it was a total waste of money. Would Matt even dare join him?
Matt had sent him a text yesterday when the blog came out, but they hadn’t spoken on the phone or anything since their fight. Still, Trevor had been tracking the news nonstop all day. He knew Matt was probably freaking out, because it was all over the internet at this point.
And it wasn’t pretty. The speculation was endless, the internet trolls rabid, the main networks and news outlets picking up the story fast. A gay quarterback in the National Championships, that was salacious enough to appeal to people who had never given a shit before about Division II football. Overnight, Matt’s personal life had become front-page news. Which meant Trevor’s personal life was also up for grabs if his name was connected to Matt. Could he handle that? Hell yeah, he could. Too bad his boyfriend didn’t agree.
Too bad Trevor also felt so damn guilty when all he wanted to feel was pissed.
Because Trevor was actually relieved Matt had been outed. Relieved he didn’t have to worry all the time about what would happen if their secret was discovered. Relieved that Matt wouldn’t just play straight for the rest of his life.
And if Trevor was being really honest with himself, he wanted to be the quarterback’s boyfriend. Publicly. He wanted to give the big middle finger t
o all the haters. To all the people who said fags couldn’t be athletes. Couldn’t hack it next to a straight dude. To his parents, who said no one would ever love him. That he’d never make anything of himself. That fags were worthless. He actually wanted them to read about it in the paper.
And that was really pretty selfish of him.
Completely oblivious to his self-loathing thoughts, Drew called out from across the lobby. “This is amazing. Why the hell are we staying at a budget hotel?”
Emily bounced up behind Trevor. “Because we didn’t get a huge signing bonus, and our best friend isn’t using his on us.” Emily mock pouted.
Trevor didn’t even deign to respond. He didn’t have that big of a signing bonus, and they knew it. But he was thankful they’d made the drive with him. After the game, they were going to drive out of the city to a budget inn on the outskirts. But, first, they’d wanted to see the hotel Trevor had chosen, because it was a little boutique place with different themed rooms. It was just quirky enough to be awesome.
“So which room did you pick?” Drew asked, flipping through a brochure.
“The one with the swinging bed,” Trevor replied with a smirk, trying not to worry that the bed wouldn’t actually get tested out properly. But, damn it, he wasn’t going to apologize to Matt first. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Matt needed to make the first move.
“Shut up. Seriously?” Emily gasped.
“Yup,” Trevor said, appreciating how the check-in clerk was remaining completely unfazed by their conversation. “It’s this super-modern room and the bed hangs from the ceiling on chains. And there’s a massive shower with six body sprays.”
“Eight, and a Jacuzzi tub,” the check-in clerk corrected. “Here are your keys. Elevator to your left. You’re on the eighth floor.”
Trevor thanked her, and they hurried upstairs to drop off his stuff. The bed was as amazing as it had looked in the pictures. A mattress on a plexiglass frame with thick black chains hooking it to the ceiling. The headboard was a mirror. It was sexy as fuck. Trevor refused to let Emily and Drew play on it no matter how much they begged to take it for a ride. He didn’t want to be late to the game. And, also, ew.
The Quarterback Page 26