Derek’s car was parked in the driveway later that night. That didn’t necessarily mean he was home. He spent a lot of time with Gabe, and I’d noticed they used his teammate’s car, which might have been to throw me off guard. Maybe that sounded paranoid, but I had a feeling the reason we didn’t see each other as often had more to do with his relentlessly squeaky bedsprings than a busy schedule.

Just last week, I’d left Mitch’s bed before dawn, driven home on empty city streets, tiptoed into my house and down the hall toward the bedrooms, only to stop short at the telltale sounds of sex coming from Derek’s room. The masculine grunts were reminiscent of what Mitch and I had been doing a few hours earlier. As long as I’d known Derek, he’d only been with women, but the walls were too thin to mask the obvious. So we were both bi. I’d heard their grand finale, punctuated with a loud moan and then soft laughter, and wondered if I should tell him I knew. And tell him about me.

I didn’t tell him that day, but I promised myself I would soon. When I was ready.

Maybe today.

I changed my clothes after practice that afternoon and was about to head to the kitchen when the door next to me clicked open. I listened to footsteps move down the hall, hushed whispers, and then the front door opening and closing. When I thought the coast was clear, I tiptoed down the hall to the kitchen.

Derek walked in a few minutes later with serious bedhead and a sappy looking smile that faded slightly when he saw me.

“Oh. Hi. I didn’t know you were home. Don’t you have practice?” he asked.

“Done for the day. I got home fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh.” His face went bright red.

I held up a cup just as he was about to turn around. “Want water?”

“Uh…yeah. Thanks.” He licked his lips nervously and leaned against the counter. “I heard about that YouTube thing you’re doing with Mitch. Is that the secret project you’ve been talking about?”

I gave myself a mental pep talk as I handed him a water bottle. Derek was cool, and apparently he was going through the same thing as me. I could do this now.

“Yeah,” I grunted. Lame.

“How’s it going? I haven’t watched any of it, but Chels said you guys look like a very convincing couple.”

“It’s going well. Um…how’s Gabe?”

“Gabe? He’s fine. Why?”

I shrugged. “No reason. Want to play Mortal Kombat? We’re up to part five. We gotta keep going.”

“Yeah, sure.”

We exchanged guarded smiles, then headed for the living room. So much for coming out.

There was a huge difference between fifty followers and three hundred and fifty thousand. Who knew? I had to be one of the last holdouts when it came to social media immersion. I checked a couple of sites once a day and looked at pictures my friends tagged me in. And the only YouTube videos I’d watched had something to do with football or extreme sports, featuring daredevil maneuvers even I wouldn’t attempt. I didn’t post much myself, so it didn’t occur to me to think about who was virtually engaged in my everyday life. Until now.

The buzz grew daily. My meager following exploded overnight. Strangers from all over the world commented on GIFs and photos I’d posted months ago and asked invasive and sometimes inappropriate questions about my relationship with Mitch. How often did we have sex? Did I like giving or receiving blowjobs? Who topped whom? You know, the usual. When a cousin in Italy asked my dad if I was gay, I knew it was a matter of time before one of my teammates or friends asked what the hell I was doing. And because everything happens at the speed of light on the internet, I didn’t have to wait long.

Jonesie cornered me in the locker room after practice the following week.

“What’s with that YouTube thing? I heard you’re playing gay for a real gay dude’s online TV pilot.”

“TV pilot?” I repeated with an eye roll. This was how rumors got started.

“Yeah. My sister said some of those social media dorks make big bucks in advertising. It’s a clever idea, but I don’t know about the gay stuff. Does your girlfriend know?” he asked, pulling his T-shirt over his head.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, Jonesie.”

He frowned. “I thought things were getting heavy with you and Nicole.”

“You thought wrong. As far as the YouTube stuff goes…you’re supposed to subscribe to his channel and vote. Is it real? Yes or no?”

“I vote no.”

“Why?”

“ ’Cause I’ve seen you with Nicole.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I haven’t seen her since—”

“Yesterday at Christian’s barbeque,” he intercepted. “She was all over you, and you fuckin’ loved it.”

Only part of that statement was true. I’d promised Christian I’d swing by his place for an end of season pool party. I’d stayed for a beer and a burger and spent most of the time swapping stories with my teammates. Nicole had been there, and yeah, she was a little handsy and clingy. I’d been friendly but not overly so. I took a few selfies with her and some friends and got the fuck out.

“Wrong again, Jonesie.”

“She said you’re going with her to that fund raiser Saturday.”

“I said I’d go. I didn’t say I’d go with her,” I corrected.

“Hmph. Playin’ it cool. I get it. Whatever. You’re one of us. You play football. You’re not queer, dude.” He made the universal “yuck” face, then hollered across the room. “Hey, what do you guys think? Is di Angelo a fruitcake? Raise your hand if you vote yes.”

The room broke out into a mostly good-natured debate about my sexuality. I was torn between being irate at the personal invasion to sweating bullets. I could come clean here and now. I knew locker room etiquette better than most of these idiots. Taking offense was the worst thing I could do. I had to put together a decent speech, but my brain wasn’t working. And I wasn’t good at talking about my feelings on the best days. Christian was better at this stuff than me, I mused, glancing over at our quarterback.

Christian met my gaze, then looked away. I couldn’t read him, but he didn’t look happy. He was either offended on my behalf or pissed that we’d devolved to sophomoric levels of idiocy. Yes, I had an opportunity to speak out, but this atmosphere was too much like the one I remembered in high school. And something in Christian’s eyes reminded me of Graham.

My mind was suddenly on fire. Say something. Do something. Be brave. Act now.

But I couldn’t. I was paralyzed by fear. And every second that passed with questioning glances and uncomfortable laughter weighed on me heavily. I had to do something or I’d pass out.

So I threw my towel at Jonesie’s head and chuckled when he draped it over his ears like a scarf. “I just farted on that. You’re welcome,” I said with a wink.

He whipped the towel off and snapped it at my ass and as a new round of silliness broke over the room, I felt myself inch closer to an invisible edge. Any moment now, I’d lose my footing and everything around me would change. I had to be ready for it.

The next few days were weird as hell. I went to practice but skipped a couple of classes to minimize my time on campus. I felt exposed in a way I didn’t like. Maybe it was my imagination, but I sensed stares and whispers reminiscent of my high school days after the accident. I downplayed the sudden interest when Mitch asked if I’d noticed anything new. I claimed everything was the same, and maybe it was. Maybe I was different. Not stronger, braver, or smarter, though. Just…different. I felt like I was stuck on a fourth down, inches from the goal line, waiting for the coach to call the play that would drive me into the end zone. It was becoming clear that I couldn’t rely on instruction. The move was mine to make, I mused as I pulled into a parking space near the gymnasium.

On a whim, I’d decided to catch the last half of the volleyball game Mitch was cheering and watch him in action. I’d made excellent time on the drive from our team dinner, and I wasn’t ready to go home yet. The busier I stayed, the better. When my schedule slowed, I had more time to think and at the moment, that was kind of dangerous.

The attendant checking IDs and collecting money from non-students at the door waved me in free of charge and instructed me to sit wherever I wanted. The later hour and under-capacity crowd probably saved me five bucks. I sat three rows back on the home bleachers and searched the floor for Mitch.

My heart flipped against my rib cage when I spotted him on the sidelines in his black-and-gold cheer squad uniform. He stood tall and proud, with his chin tilted toward the rafters as though he were performing to a sellout crowd instead of a few parents and friends. I felt a surge of awe and adoration for him. And gratitude that he was mine.

I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees just as a perky blonde with freckles sat beside me.

She bounced excitedly and widened her eyes. “Oh, my gosh. I’ve totally been watching your IG and YouTube channel. You and Mitch are the cutest! Please tell me you’re real! You must be. You wouldn’t come to one of these games unless you were a couple. You don’t even go to school here, right?”

“Uh…no, but—”

“Can I get a selfie with you?”

“Well, um…okay.”

She put her arm around me and snapped a photo before I had a chance to smile. “Would you be willing to do another one with my friends? It’ll only take a sec,” she pleaded.

I complied. She was a fast picture-taker and other than causing a mini-sensation in a half-empty gym, I honestly didn’t see the harm in appeasing a gaggle of freshman girls. This was becoming a regular thing. I’d been stopped a few times this week alone by random people who wanted me to know they thought our videos were funny and entertaining.

The bubbly girl took the photo, then hollered Mitch’s name, announcing my presence to my mystified-looking lover before returning to her seat with her friends. Mitch smiled at me and got back to work, revving up the meager crowd from the sidelines. He was good at this. His enthusiasm was contagious but a little lost on a small audience.

I glanced around the gym again then did a double take when I noticed someone filming me from the opposite side of the court. A young woman with long brown hair turned her phone to Mitch and then back to me shamelessly. She clearly didn’t care that I knew she was watching me. In fact, she probably liked it. I might understand if I was famous. But I wasn’t. I was just me. Maybe it was a good thing Mitch hadn’t used his real name until recently. The near constant attention and prying eyes freaked me out.

I pulled my cell out and lowered my head to avoid unwanted scrutiny as I scrolled through missed messages. The first was from Nicole.

There’s a cocktail party on campus before the fundraiser Saturday. Can’t wait to see you!

I’d ignored an earlier message from Jonesie giving me the same info and basically begging me to be there. I pulled up his text as I glanced at the volleyball sailing over the net and typed a quick reply.

I can’t wait.

The sarcasm would probably be wasted on him, but Jonesie was always going to see what he wanted. I was about to slip my phone into my jacket pocket when a flurry of hearts lit the screen. What the fuck?

Nicole’s message thread popped up. She must have added to her text just as I thought I was replying to Jonesie.

The event will run late. You can spend the night, she’d written.

And my reply…I can’t wait.

Fuck.

I studied the message and tried to think of a nice way to say “Just kidding,” or “That was a mistake.” But the buzzer went off, signaling the end of the game and suddenly clarifying my intentions didn’t seem important. I didn’t owe Nicole or Jonesie or anyone else an explanation. It wasn’t their business.

I glanced up at the stranger recording me across the way and froze at the sickening realization that I’d let them in. I was completely exposed, like a bug under a microscope or a caged animal. People were waiting for me to reveal myself. They wanted to be assured that I hadn’t changed and if I had, they wanted to know how and why. They wanted to know what my choices said about them. Maybe we all needed validation, justification, or a cause to stand behind, a reason to love or a reason to hate.

But this was mine. No one else’s.

I licked my lips nervously and searched for Mitch. I had to get out of here. Being with him was all that mattered.

We were all over each other when we walked into my place that night. Derek was at a tournament, and I didn’t want to pass up spreading out in a bigger accommodation, even if it was just for a few hours. I waited for Mitch to park his car and join me on the porch before closing the door, pushing his jacket off his shoulders, and his shirt over his head. We stumbled down the hallway, tearing clothes off with our mouths fused and our hands everywhere. I couldn’t be bothered to fully remove my clothes. Getting inside him was the main objective. The rest would happen in good time.

I shoved my jeans around my knees and held his hips, thrusting my bare cock against his crack while he unwrapped a condom. Mitch turned around and fell to his knees to suck me until I yanked at his hair and pumped my hips in a telltale rhythm that meant I wasn’t going to last. Then he slipped the latex on me, crawled to the middle of my bed, and swayed his ass from side to side. He sucked in a sharp breath when I entered him. I went as still as possible, massaging his sides before slowly making my way inside my lover.

Mitch groaned and pushed back insistently. “Harder. Do it harder. And say that thing you say sometimes.”

I drove into him and flattened myself over his smaller body. “What do I say?”

“My hole. Tell me what you want to do to me. Fuck me.”

My mouth went dry. Holy shit. I slipped my hand underneath him, stroking him while I licked his ear and whispered a litany of naughty things I wanted to do to him while I thrust my hips, driving into him as he clutched at the sheets with white knuckles. I rained kisses on his nape and shoulders, jacking his cock in a frenzy. I wanted release; at the same time, I never wanted this to end. And when my orgasm hit, I came so hard I couldn’t stop shaking until Mitch fell apart a moment later.

We cleaned up, redressed, and made our way to the kitchen. I paused with my hand on the refrigerator door and looked over at Mitch. His sex-mussed hair and wrinkled uniform shirt did things to me. Or maybe it was his lopsided smile. God, I had it bad for him. This was what mattered. Us. No one else was welcome here.

“Want something to eat?”

“No, thanks. Is Derek coming home?”

“I don’t know. He might be with Gabe.”

“So did he finally tell you?”

I grabbed a container of leftover pasta and nodded. “Yeah. How did you know?”

“Chelsea.”

“Right.” I pulled a fork from the drawer and leaned against the counter. “He was having a bad day and…it all came out. Actually, I had to prod him a bit, but it turns out my roommate has a boyfriend.”

“Did you tell him about me?” he asked with faux nonchalance.

“No. It wasn’t really a good time.” And I wasn’t ready. I kept that part to myself and shoveled in a bite of spaghetti to keep myself from saying it aloud.

“Oh.”

“Your fan club showed up in full force tonight,” I commented around a mouthful of food.

“The freshman girls?” He chuckled as he uncapped a water bottle. “Yeah. They’re sweet. They’ve followed me for a while, but they’ve gone bonkers since I published the links to our videos.”

“Hmm. I’ve got a lot of new followers suddenly too. And people looking at me funny at school. I think I should come out on your video,” I blurted, out of the fucking blue.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. We can do it together.”

“No. I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

I stared at him for a second in surprise. In light of my freak-out at the gym, I thought it was fucking brilliant. If he was with me, I could do anything. “Why not? We talked about this. We both want this.”

“You have to come out on your own. Not with me. I’m already out, and I have my own story. This one is all you. It’s too personal a statement to attach to someone else’s school project. It’s got to be yours, and it has to be real.”

“It is real,” I insisted. “Why not get it out there all at once? It’s a good idea.”

“It’s okay. But the videos aren’t real, Evan. They’re scripted. Sure, we ad-lib and we both know there’s truth under the silly questions about sex and intense debates about Grandma’s cookies, but you have other parts of your life that are partially scripted too. The way you act with your football friends and that girl who thinks she still has a shot with you.”

“Nicole?”

“If you say so,” he retorted.

I furrowed my brow. “She wouldn’t think so if I came out.”

“Sure she would. She’s been busy posting photos from parties and football games lately. Did you know that? She posted something an hour ago…a text thread about your date on Saturday.”

I gaped at him in surprise. “Are you kidding me? That just happened, and it’s not even true.”

Mitch gave me a sharp look. “It doesn’t matter. It’s out there.”

“I agreed to go to the fund raiser, but it’s not a date. I’m not going with her. I’m just attending. The text messages got scrambled with one I was sending Jonesie and—come on, Mitch. You know I’m not interested in Nicole.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s kind of fuzzy to everyone else. So coming out on a video you’re doing with me is just white noise. It’s a titillating sound byte that may or may not be sincere. Get it? ‘Faux or No?’ It’s just another plot twist. Viewers will eat it up.”

“So? Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I don’t think so.” He sighed unhappily and looked away. “It makes me feel a little sick.”

“Will you feel better if I come out?”

He frowned and bit his bottom lip hard. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but I was obviously saying all the wrong things. I felt like I was moving in the dark, bumping into furniture, and waking up old ghosts.

“You’ve asked me that so many times, Ev. My answer is never going to change. If you come out, it has to be your idea. Not mine.”

“I didn’t mean ‘if,’ I meant ‘when,’ ” I explained, putting my fork in the container and setting it on the counter. “Look, I thought you’d be cool with this.”

“Cool with what? Being real fake boyfriends? No. I’m not cool with it. I never wanted to be fake anything. This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said, clearly agitated.

“Hey, we aren’t fake. We’re real. You know we are. Everyone else is weighing in now too. They’re taking pictures and videos and following us around and…why not tell them the truth? I thought we were on the same page here. I thought you wanted…us.”

“I do. I want us. I want you. I’m so in lo—I want too much.”

Tears trickled down his cheeks. He swiped them away with the back of his hand and looked away. I moved into his space and held him close. “Why are you crying?”

“This isn’t gonna work. Not now. You need space.”

I let him go and lifted his chin. “No, I don’t. It’s working. It’s good. We’re good.”

“No. Don’t you get it? You can’t come out because of me. Or anyone else. I keep saying, ‘When you’re ready,’ but you can’t be ready if you’re being smothered by thousands of strangers who want to know your shoe size one minute and who you really fuck the next. You have a real life with family and friends who love you. You don’t need the strangers.”

“But I need you,” I said softly.

“You have me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just making room for you.”

My brow creased so hard I had a headache. “Is that code for something? I’m not good at codes. What are you saying?”

“I can’t be in your way.”

“That’s still code. You’re not in the way. We’re doing a project together,” I said lamely.

“I’ll turn it in as is.”

“And then what?”

“It’s over.” His voice cracked, and tears pooled in his eyes.

My brain fought hard to make sense of the wild turn of events. I’d been inside him fifteen minutes ago. Now he wanted out?

“Why? You don’t want that. I don’t want that. Why?”

“Because I’m always the one who clings a little too hard and asks a little too much, and I’m not going to do it this time. When you tell the world who you are, there should be no guilt, no sorrow, no shame. And there shouldn’t be a guy on the side with a camera and a microphone hoping thousands of viewers will vote for us. You have to want it for yourself.”

I pursed my lips and swallowed hard. “I do.”

“We’re at different places, Evan. I can’t pretend anymore. I told you that I kept the project small on purpose. If you’d been anyone else, I wouldn’t have bothered, but I liked you too much right from the start. So I decided to wait for you to tell me you wanted out. But you didn’t. And every day this thing inside me has grown. It didn’t happen out of the blue. It was little by little. The way you put pink licorice in my pockets and leave your shoes on my floor. The twenty silly texts you send me when you’re bored in class. The way you stop to talk to my grandmother no matter how big of hurry you’re in. You’re the best person I know, Ev. And it’s a big problem for me because I don’t just like you now. I love you.”

I opened my mouth in shock. “You love…Then stay.”

“I can’t. You have to be free to think without me in the way. No regrets.” He pushed his hands through his hair and stepped away. “I should go and—”

“Please don’t,” I whispered. “Please. I’m trying not to mess up, and I’m doing it anyway. But just—give me a chance.”

Mitch pulled me against him and buried his face in my neck. His tears wet the collar of my T-shirt and once again, I was at a loss. I wanted to console him, but my heart felt oddly fragile, like it was cracking into pieces faster than I could put them back together. I held on for as long as he let me. But when he kissed my cheek and pushed away, I had no choice. I let go.

When I woke up in the ICU five years ago with a bunch of broken bones and a seriously fucked up future, I hadn’t thought anything worse could happen. Then they told me Graham died in the crash. And the real clincher—it appeared he wanted to end his life that night. It took me much longer to recover from the mental anguish than the broken bones. If there’d been a way to trade the cloak of darkness that pulled me under for months after for another round of shattered limbs, I’d have taken that option any day.

After years of therapy, I finally turned a corner. I was in a good place. I had a supportive family, great friends, and in a few months, I’d be a college graduate. But I’d never felt worse. And given my past, that was saying something.

I walked around in a daze for twenty-four hours after Mitch left, going through the motions and trying to figure out what I was supposed to do next. It was my move, right? I was on my own. If I wanted to make my own video, I could. If I wanted to make a few phone calls instead, that was okay too. Or I could forget the whole thing and go back to the way I was before Mitch came along.

No. I couldn’t. I wasn’t the same person. I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t broken all over again. The difference was, I could fix it myself if I was brave.

By day two, I began to suspect I’d left all my bravado on the field. I felt weak and unsure, and so unbelievably sad that it hurt to move. I lay on the sofa with a bag of potato chips on my stomach, watching sports highlights on mute. I had no idea what time it was, but it had to be closing in on midnight. I should sleep or something, I mused as the front door clicked open.

Low masculine voices broke the silence. Fuck. It would take more energy than I had to turn off the television and fake sleep. It wouldn’t work anyway. Derek had a thing about crumbs. He’d wake me up just to get the potato chips out of my hands. I sat up and set the bag on the coffee table just as Derek and Gabe walked into the room.

“Hi. I thought you’d be out…or asleep,” Derek said.

“I’m going to bed now.”

I shared a knowing glance with Gabe when Derek reached for the bag of potato chips, folding the seam precisely. No doubt he’d caught on right away that his boyfriend was a world-class neat freak.

“Good. It’s two a.m. Don’t you have a game tomorrow?”

“Yeah, Mom. I do. I think.” I sat up gingerly and rubbed the back of my neck before attempting to stand.

“Are you sick?” Derek gave me a suspicious once-over.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

Gabe flopped into the chair next to me and picked up the remote. He didn’t change the channel or adjust the sound, though. He sat quietly and waited for us to finish up our middle of the night pleasantries. I could end it by going to bed, but I didn’t have the energy to move yet.

“What happened?” Derek asked softly.

“Nothing happened,” I lied.

“Then why aren’t you with Mitch?”

I felt my defenses rise around me like an invisible brick wall. I looked up at Derek and prepared a scornful speech letting him know he had the wrong idea about me. But the second I opened my mouth, the wall began to slowly crumble. I couldn’t lie to my newly un-closeted friend and his boyfriend. I’d been too engrossed in my own drama to pay close attention, but I knew they’d gone through a lot just to be together. Not as teammates. As lovers. Pleading ignorance at this point would be insulting and dishonest. Derek deserved better than that.

“He told me I needed space. Or maybe he needed space. And since he’s not returning my texts and calls, I think that means…you know.” I couldn’t even say it. My chest was heavy. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to talk.

“Oh.” Derek sat on the coffee table, bracing his elbows on his knees. “What are you going to do?”

I sighed heavily and shrugged. “I don’t know. He took his project down. Erased everything. Some of it was really good too.”

“It was great. Even if you weren’t a couple, you guys had chemistry,” Gabe commented.

“We were a couple,” I said without thinking. “It was real.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. I braved a glance at Derek, who simply nodded. “I know.”

“You know? How did you know?” I whispered in awe. “When?”

“Recently.” He looked at Gabe then back at me. “I think we’ve been going through this at the same time. I didn’t know you were…”

“Bi.” There. I said it. The word sounded funny coming from me and referring to me, but Gabe and Derek didn’t seem to notice.

“Yes. Bi.” He smiled wanly then continued, “You spent a lot of time with Mitch but I didn’t know anything until I saw a video. The way you looked at him sort of gave you away. But I was still too caught up with Gabe and school and polo, and I didn’t want to say anything. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. If you’re not ready, that’s cool. I’m around if you want to talk.”

Tears stung my eyes. I didn’t trust my voice, but I managed a brief, “Thanks.”

“I just want to remind you that you told me I should be true to myself and love who I wanted. It’s good advice. And I know it’s always easier to give advice than take it yourself but…dude, you only get one life. One chance. Be good to yourself. You’re stronger than you know.”

“You sound like you’re reading cocktail napkins at a yoga wine and cheese party,” I huffed with a half laugh as I clandestinely wiped at my eyes.

Gabe leaned forward and kissed Derek’s temple and chuckled. “He’s right, though. Do what makes you happy. The rest is bullshit.”

I nodded in agreement. It was all bullshit.

Yet somewhere under the lies of omission, posturing, and flat-out denial, there was truth. Telling it would take a fuckload of courage, but I didn’t have a chance if I didn’t go for it. And doing nothing at all was another form of giving up. Not okay.