Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 154(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 103(@300wpm)
It’s all good. I’m doing the same.
Well, not family. But…friends and baseball, which both feel like family.
I channel my energy into focusing on the game for the rest of the evening, and it pays off—we win.
Which I love, but winning was a little more fun when I went home with Adam.
When I’m home later, rooting around the kitchen, there’s a knock on the door. It can only be Travis. When I open it, the gregarious first baseman thrusts a couple of bottles of beer at me. “If I’m buying, you’re cooking.”
“Obviously,” I say drily.
“That’s how we do it,” he says.
“It sure is,” I say.
Because…I have a routine with Travis. This is my life. Hanging out with my teammate-slash-best friend after hours. Snacking, watching TV, talking sports.
Simple and mostly satisfying.
Quickly, I make sandwiches, then we settle on the couch with beers. Travis flips through my queue before arriving on a show where couples check out homes for sale. “Maybe not that one,” I say, a phantom pain lodging in my chest as I take a drink.
Travis gives me an assessing look, then toggles to the next option. “If you say so.”
We watch a crime drama, eating and drinking, commenting on possible suspects. Mostly I check my phone screen between bites, searching for—what else—mattresses.
Hmm. Do I want one that’s good for a side sleeper? Wait. Nope. Adam sleeps on his side.
I groan quietly.
Maybe after I replace the mattress, I’ll stop thinking about the guy so damn much.
“Anything good there?” Travis asks absently. “Your phone that is.”
If anyone else asked, they might be busting me for checking out my screen. But this is Travis. This is our routine. “Just debating if I want to go vegan.”
He whips his head from the TV. “What?”
I show him my phone. “I need to replace a mattress, and vegan mattresses are good for the environment,” I grumble.
“You and Chason,” he says with a laugh.
Yes, he knows I date guys, but does he know Adam and I had a thing? Not that I care, but what happened with Adam and me isn’t my story alone to tell. It’s ours. “What?” I ask sharply.
Travis shoots me a look like I’m clueless. “Chason was saying earlier he needed a bed too. His mattress is all jacked. The two of you are both looking for new beds. Oh, did you think I meant…”
I did. For a few seconds.
I sigh, annoyed with myself for being worried. But I’m annoyed because I want what I can’t have.
Travis sighs too, but it’s a thoughtful sound. “You know, Miller, if there’s stuff going on, you can tell me, right?” And he says stuff like he knows what’s up and is waiting for me to clarify it. “I’m cool with…anything.”
I smile. I do appreciate that offer, but I’m not sure I want to serve up my insides. “I’m good. But thanks. That means a lot.”
“Sure, man.” Travis’s tone is skeptical, then he adds, “I’m glad you’re good, but it’d be okay if you weren’t.”
That’s more emotional awareness than I’m expecting from Travis. “I’ll be fine.”
Another uh huh. “Sometimes it’s unhealthy to push stuff down,” he says.
Something other teammates have said before, as well as a few therapists. That there’s no avoiding feelings even if you want to.
“So when I’m feeling like that,” Travis continues, “I try to burp as loudly as I can. Really helps, you know, psychologically.”
Which is more like it.
Travis has a point. Maybe I don’t want to push stuff down anymore.
Maybe this life of eating sandwiches and watching TV I don’t care about isn’t enough.
Maybe hanging with a teammate in the evenings isn’t the end game for me.
If I keep denying what I want, it’ll come out eventually.
Right now, this second, I know what I want. I’m not sure I can have it. There’s no guarantee.
But at the very least, I can try.
I pick up my phone. This time I don’t look at mattresses. I draft a message to Adam.
Derek: Hey so, I need a mattress too. Want to go shopping together? As friends?
At the very least, I want to be friends with him. That’s a place to start, and maybe then I can ask for what I want. Except…I want more. So much more. I delete the last line, erasing As friends. I’ll take friendship, but first I’ll swing for the fences.
I hit send.
A little while after Travis leaves, my phone pings. My heart jumps when I read the message.
Adam: I’d like that.
16
Adam
I check my reflection in the mirror. Nice short sleeve button-down. Clean-shaven jaw. Jeans that fit well.
My hair is a little messy. Or not messy enough, maybe?
Stop thinking about your hair. It’s not a date.
Too bad my pulse is surging like it is a date. I run a hand through my hair, turn away from the mirror and take off. It’s a Monday morning. Normally, I’d sleep in.