The team goes through two players at a time between each half inning, showing the slideshow of images each player gave to have displayed on the scoreboard for the crowds to see. It’s the top of the seventh now, and I’m even starting to get jitters, so I can only imagine how Keene is feeling from having to wait.
He’s slow out of the dugout to get into position behind the plate since he was left stranded on base in the bottom of the previous inning, though it never fails to amaze me how quickly he can throw all that gear on. When he climbs up the steps of the dugout and appears, he glances over his shoulder to look at the three of us.
His smile lights my soul on fire and I can’t help but grin back and do my best not to notice, once again, the way his pants hug his ass or how fuckhot he looks immersed in his element. The last thing I need is to sport a chub from staring at him whilst sitting between the two members of his family who mean the most to him.
Thank God, halfway through the warm up, the moment finally arrives.
“And now introducing the family and loved ones of number twenty-eight, starting catcher for the Wildcats, Keene Waters!” The announcer’s voice booms over the stadium as clapping and cheers fill the space.
Keene glances up at his mom, sister, and me again, lifting his mask as he does. He’s got the biggest, dopiest grin on his face when he sees the tears in his mom’s eyes as the first image of their family is brought on the screen. When I look over to my other side, I notice even Lexi is smiling at her big brother before looking up at the scoreboard.
Laughter ripples from my stomach as I watch the images flick across the screen in the slideshow. I helped Keene pick out the images he wanted to use for this a couple weeks back, especially the one of him and his sister covered in whipped cream when they decided to have a war, using the spray cans as guns when they were ten and six. I remember the day like it was yesterday, and from the giggles bursting from both Loraine and Lexi, they do too.
My attention moves from the screen down to the field again, where my heart might as well stop. Because instead of looking at the scoreboard, where images of his loved ones are flashing, he’s staring at me.
Not his mom or sister.
Me.
The smile on his face just about kills me. There’s so much emotion in it besides joy and happiness, though anyone who doesn’t know him as well as I do wouldn’t just see those two things. And they’d also think he was looking at his family members, not his best friend turned…lover.
The oohs, aahs, and laughter that reverberate over the crowd each time new photos come on linger in the background as he and I smile at each other, and goddamnit, I don’t think I’ve ever been more at peace in my—
A ring of gasps echo through the stadium, pulling Keene and I from the little bubble we were just living in, oblivious to the rest of the world.
And fuck.
The second I look up to see why everyone seemed to collectively go into shock, I wish I didn’t look. I wish I could rewind three, five, ten seconds ago to that little bubble Keene and I were just in, oblivious to anyone or anything around us. To when shit was simple and we could smile and grin at each other without a care in the world. Without worry or fear or, most importantly, judgment. Like we have a secret no one else knows, because we do.
Correction: we did.
Because fast forward to this moment we’re in, one that seems more like a nightmare than a dream, and the secret? Our secret?
It’s not a fucking secret anymore.
My heart catches in my throat—or maybe it’s nausea trying to work itself free from my stomach—as I stare up at the screen of the scoreboard. At an image I know I didn’t have any input in adding to Keene’s slide show. Because if I did? I sure as fuck would’ve said hell no.
Seeing as it’s one of the two of us kissing on the beach—me in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist—I’d think that’s pretty understandable.
“Aspen?” Loraine whispers, though how I hear it over the murmurings floating through the crowd, I’m not sure. Words like gay and couple float over my skin with heat from people behind and beside us. And though we live in a very progressive place, I swear I catch the word faggots murmured too.
More than once.
Loraine says my name again, grabbing my arm this time to get my attention. When I look down at her, I’m not surprised to find the questions written on her face. But what I’m not prepared for…is the pity in her deep brown eyes.
I swallow harshly, shaking my head without realizing I’m doing it. As if my body and mind is rejecting this as reality. But from the way her hand moves down to squeeze mine in reassurance, I know it has to be.
Time grinds to a halt as my eyes lift to find Keene.
He looks like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide and alert as he stares at me. The shock and disbelief on his face are more than enough to tell me this wasn’t his doing. Not intentionally, at least.
With that look, I have a new theory on who is actually behind it, not that it fucking matters now. The damage is done already. Thousands of people are gaping up at a giant photo of the two of us kissing, me in his arms.
His mask slides off his head and falls to the ground, and it’s like the action alone is enough to silence the thousands of people reeling by this extremely public coming out we were just forced into. Not that it matters, because I can’t hear a goddamn thing over the blood roaring in my ears. The only reason I even know Keene is trying to get my attention is because my eyes are fixated on his face and I recognize my name on his lips.
I’ve watched him moan it enough times that it’s permanently ingrained in my head.
My feet move on their own accord and I take a step backward. Away from him. Each time he moves to get closer to me, I feel my body moving and tripping back up the stairs toward the concourse behind the lower level.
When he reaches the netting, he drops his mitt to the ground and grips the material in his fists. “Pen.”
Somehow, I hear it this time. I hear the aching plea in his voice, and it breaks me more than the hurt and sorrow in his eyes. It shatters the heart pounding in my chest more than this moment ever could, and more than anything, I wanna go to him. Let him assure me we’ll get through this together, because we’re Pen and Kee and we can get through any-fucking-thing as long as we have each other.
There’s never been a day on this planet where I haven’t chosen him.
But my body and my mind are at war with my heart, and the pieces of me in charge right now, they’re not screaming to go to the person I love. They’re chanting words of fear and self-preservation. Even when they shouldn’t. Even though it makes no sense for me to want to bolt.
Which is why my head…it just keeps fucking shaking. Silently saying no. Denying this is really happening, and in turn, denying him.
I’m halfway up the stands without even realizing it, but when I almost fall on my ass, a hand lands on my back. I look behind me to see a woman, her eyes full of the same pity Loraine had in hers, and it’s enough to snap me out of the fog.
I gotta get outta here.
My feet propel me farther from him—my best friend—and I do my best to avoid making eye contact with a single person in the stadium as I make my way up the remaining rows of seats.
And I hate myself for it.
For not being able to protect him from this. For not being more careful. For dragging us and our friendship into such a beautiful yet tragic descent into Hell.
That’s what it feels like, having our business aired like this in front of thousands of people. Business we had no intention of sharing with the world anytime soon.
Bristol’s words come smashing back into my consciousness, her omen now a prophecy.
You two are either gonna become the greatest thing to ever happen to each other, or you’re gonna toss his heart in a frying pan the moment he wants something you won’t give him.
You have to be all in.
Tears prick at my eyes, and I realize I’ve been fooling myself all along.
I can’t be this guy—the one I’ve seen forming in his mind when he looks at me through his rose-colored glasses. The guy who can do hearts and flowers and shit. Taking something that is meant to be purely physical and mixing in emotional intimacy and romance.
I’ve never been that guy; I’ve never wanted to be him either. I just don’t know how when all I’ve truly wanted was to get through life with as little emotional damage as possible.
And this? Right here and now?
It’s damage on a catastrophic level.
“Aspen!” Keene shouts my name as I run up the steps. Once. Twice. His voice is full of anxiety and fear, something I certainly understand at this moment.
Not enough to turn around, though. Or dare look back.
Because if I look back, I’ll see all their faces. The mixture of disgust and sympathy swirling through the crowd is palpable, and I don’t have it in me to be subjected to their judgment about something they don’t understand.
Something I don’t fully understand.
Maybe if I did, I’d be making a different choice right now.
“Pen!” Keene calls for what might be the millionth time. It rips from his throat in a cry so feral, it shakes me to my core. Causes earthquakes of fear and tidal waves of emotion to wreak havoc inside my body.
The tiniest part of me still hopes and prays I’ll turn around.
It doesn’t matter, though.
Because I’m already gone.
