Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Sky shot an incredulous look at me. “Only someone from Michigan says that.”
“Guilty.”
“Oh. Where in Michig—”
“St. Clair Shores, but that’s not important. You’re the one gettin’ grilled here, not me. Who’s your team?” I asked.
“Dodgers.”
I rolled my eyes. “Everyone loves the fuckin’ Dodgers. You’re not even from California, and you love ’em.”
“I always have. They’re probably the number one reason I wanted to move here.”
“Oh, brother,” I huffed derisively.
“Hey, it’s true. I would have moved sooner if I could. I got stuck going to a small private college owned by a friend of the family when I first got out of high school. They had a decent baseball team, but I knew I wouldn’t go anywhere unless I transferred. I talked my dad into letting me apply to a few California colleges. I got accepted to UCLA, Fullerton, and Chilton. I wanted to go to Fullerton ’cause they’re a Division One baseball powerhouse. But my father was adamant…Chilton or nothing.”
“Why?”
“He said it was a better academic school. Maybe so. I didn’t care at first. I just wanted out. I figured I’d spend a year at Chilton and transfer to Fullerton or anywhere else. But I met Max and…things changed.” Sky popped the lid off and shook the ice before tipping his cup back.
“Who’s Max?”
“My ex.”
I noted his defiant tone, clenched jaw, and squared shoulders with a vague sense of curiosity. Every time he gave me one measly piece of info, I had twenty more questions. Personal ones. Why did he come out to his parents if he knew it would affect their financial support and possibly lead to outright disinheritance? Especially since he had no plans to come out to anyone else. And what happened between him and Max? In other words, a bunch of shit that was none of my business.
But I couldn’t quite let it go.
“Hmph. Let me guess…he gave you an ultimatum to come out or else. You did and he bounced anyway,” I said, crumpling my wrapper in a tiny ball.
“No. Other way around. I told him I wanted to come out. He didn’t. I got mad and decided I’d do it myself, starting with my family. It was a disaster. They wanted to commit me.”
“To what? A psych ward?”
“Conversion therapy.”
“Holy fuck.”
“Yeah. I left in the middle of the night, drove back to California, and found Max in bed with his best friend, who happened to be our other roommate…and his ex.”
“Whoa.”
Sky waved dismissively. “Nah. It’s not like that. I knew Max didn’t cheat on me. It wasn’t his style. He was loyal to a fault. Besides, they were fully clothed. But I still lost my shit. Not immediately. I waited till the next morning. And I unraveled a little more every day. I told Max what went down with my family. I told him I was afraid my dad would come after me while we were at practice and drag me home in a straightjacket. The only way to keep my dignity was to come out on my own terms. I asked Max to come out with me. To make it easier.”
“He didn’t want to?”
“He wasn’t ready,” Sky said with a sad-looking half smile. “And I wasn’t brave enough to do it on my own. So, I called my dad and told him I made a mistake.”
“You went back in the closet?”
“I tried to anyway. I told him I was stressed and not thinking right. Dad agreed that was probably the case. He encouraged me to make some changes in my life…move home and transfer schools before I lost my way to a liberal agenda. Whatever the hell that meant. When he called the athletic director and asked pointed questions about my teammates, I freaked again. I didn’t want him probing into anyone’s personal business and creating issues. I could just see him popping up on my doorstep to interrogate Max and Christian and…I couldn’t do that to them. I figured it was best if I left first.”
“What’d you do?”
“I dismantled my life. I quit the team, moved out of the apartment, and broke up with Max. Then I went home. And guess who was waiting for me?”
“A conversion therapist.”
“No, a priest. But I figured the therapist was next, so I left again. I drove to California, crashed on friend’s sofa, and went into full panic mode when my dad demanded I return immediately, see the specialists he chose, and re-enroll at St. John’s. Basically give him control of my life until I proved myself capable. And reliable enough that he wouldn’t have to worry about me dragging our family name through the mud by doing something stupid like getting caught dirty dancing in a gay club.” He snorted and shook his head.
“Do you dirty dance in gay clubs?” I widened my eyes comically, hoping to lighten the mood.