Series: Fever Falls Series by Riley Hart
Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I didn’t remember the day, or knew the photo existed, much less who took it. But Ash had it…he’d had it all these years. You could see the corners were bent, the paper faded, aged as though it had been held a lot, not as though it had been in an album and never looked at again. It was as if this photo had lived, if that made sense.
Finally, when I could tear my eyes away from us, from Ash and me, I began to read his post.
Hold tight, folks, because you’re about to see a side of me you’ve never witnessed. I mean, it’s still a pretty amazing side because it’s me. ;)
I’ve been lucky in my life. I’d be foolish not to see that. I might have been born to a mother who didn’t want me, but she gave me to people who did. They chose me, cherished me, loved me. I had a comfortable upbringing, with a father who liked nothing more than to throw a football with me in the front yard. And from the start, I was good. Later, he would tell me I was born to play football, and I believed him. I took that message with me my whole life. We practiced daily. I was always on a team, and they went to every one of my games.
It was in high school that things began to change for me. Not football, of course. It was my heart, my soul, what I was born to do, but that’s when I began to realize I was different than my friends.
The last thing in the world I wanted was to be different. I didn’t have the confidence to stand out. I was real good at playing the part, feigning strength I’m not sure I’ve ever had. I made it my goal in life not to be different, to pretend those feelings didn’t exist. I saw my worth in football and what people thought about me. I spent my life trying to live up to that image, and being different…being gay threatened that. I couldn’t be gay if I was born to play football.
So I spent my life telling myself I wasn’t. Doing any and everything I could to deny who I was.
Except with him. It was so damn hard to lie to myself when it came to him.
Even when he didn’t know it, he did something to me. Made me feel like I was more than football, made me want things I didn’t think I could ever want. I drove him fucking crazy, and I loved that, because he didn’t take my shit. He saw through the facade, those walls I built up around myself, and I don’t think he realized he did it.
He made me want to tear them down, but I couldn’t, so I ran.
I’ve spent the last ten years running, lying, telling myself football was the most important thing because I was born for it. Because I shared it with my father.
What would I be if I lost that? Who was I without football?
Those ten years ate away at me, eroded my soul. I was drowning and didn’t know it, dying a slow, painful death while pretending I was on top of the world.
Everything I did was my choice. I made a lot of mistakes. I’m not a victim, not really. I don’t want pity or for excuses to be made about me for things I’ve done, but the lies were getting harder to keep. I was sinking deeper and deeper…to the point that I lost what I thought defined me. I lost football.
And then he came back into my life. He fired up my soul, my world, in ways I didn’t believe possible. He still didn’t let me get away with shit, he called me out, challenged me, enabled me to challenge myself. He made me want to be different if different meant I had him.
I thought I could skate the line, have him and keep lying to the world. There was a part of me that still craved acceptance, that needed to be liked, to prove myself.
That needed football.
So I ran away again. I not only ran from him, I ran from myself, and I can’t do that anymore.
I’m a gay man. I’ve always been a gay man.
A gay man who lives and breathes football.
A gay man who needs more than just football.
I didn’t know how to have both, or if I wanted both. But I know what I want now. I want my truth. I want to be different. I want to be happy. I want to be free.
And yeah, I want him too, and damn it, Cranky, you better still want me too (I mean, really, duh. It’s me, remember?).
When I had him, I still had football. No one can take that away from me, even if I’m not playing professionally. Football is still mine, it’s ours, and there’s nothing in the world like sharing it with him.