The team is mostly cool with it apart from a couple of guys who try to avoid me in the locker room, but that’s okay with me. At least they’re not making a big deal out of it.
I don’t know if Seth’s told Zach about me or not.
I wouldn’t be mad if he had, but Seth’s been so supportive about the whole thing I assume he wouldn’t out me to anyone without asking or at least telling me. Even his best friend.
Seth was the first person I told. It was on our fifteenth birthday. I told him I thought I was gay. He hugged me and said if anyone hates me for it, they’re dickheads. He also told me he’d beat anyone up for me if he had to, but that I had a better chance at actually doing damage if I did it myself. Especially if I had my hockey gear with me.
Six months later, I told him it turned out I was bi. He asked what had changed. I said getting a blowjob from Jade Mackenzie in the locker room at school. He’s since learned not to ask too many questions.
Jacobs leans in closer. “You’d definitely have a chance. That guy is gay as f—”
“Stereotype much? What makes you think he’s gay?” I know for a fact Zach is gay. Over the past three years, he’s spent most holidays with us instead of flying home to … wherever he’s from. The Midwest somewhere, I think. But one of those times—Thanksgiving maybe—Mom asked if he had a girlfriend.
He’d snorted. “That will never happen.” When Mom asked about a boyfriend, he said, “That’ll never happen either but for other reasons.” His pale cheeks had gone pink at that. I remember because I might have gotten off to the image of his flushed cheeks later that night.
Still, I hate it when someone looks at another person and assumes they know how they identify. Just like everyone looks at me and assumes I’m straight because of hockey.
“You can tell,” Jacobs says.
I grunt.
Class moves by in a blur because I can’t take my eyes off Zach.
He rarely looks up from his computer, but when he does, his gaze sweeps the room before his eyes land on mine.
I can’t help it. I cock my brow at him every time and try not to smile.
He averts his stare immediately.
Before I know it, Professor Lawrence is giving us our assignment for the week and dismissing us.
We file out of the room, but I linger outside the doors.
“You coming, man?” Jacobs asks.
“I’ll catch you later.”
He smiles a knowing smile, and I fight to keep from flipping him off.
Zach’s the last one out the door. He immediately narrows his eyes in suspicion. “You can tell your brother I didn’t fall on my face in front of everyone.”
He walks off, but I keep pace.
“I think you talk to Seth more than I do. You can tell him yourself.”
We reach the quad, and Zach stops walking. “What do you want, Foster?”
I wince. “Can you call me Grant? Everyone else here does.”
He flattens his lips, but I can’t tell if he’s actually contemplating it or pretending. “I don’t think so.”
Pretending it is.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t buy into the whole frat mentality of using each other’s last names. And … because it’s weird. Would you expect me to call you Grant in front of Seth? Should I call Seth that?”
“Frat mentality?” I try to squash my smile. “How were you assigned to this class?”
He lowers his voice. “It might have been suggested by my advisor because I’m great at analyzing individual behavior but not so great at the group and herd mentality thing. It will help me when it comes to writing my thesis. Apparently.”
“Are you sure you’re qualified to teach a sports psychology class?”
“I’m sure I can manage.”
I rub my jaw. “Well, if you need any help …”
“I won’t. I have to go. I have another class to get to.”
“You know where to get my number if you need it.”
4
Zach
If I need help.
If I need help.
Am I qualified?
I’m the damn TA.
I shake Foster’s words away for possibly the hundredth time this week. Other than that little blip on Monday, things have gone surprisingly well. Professor Lawrence is nice enough, a few students have reached out to introduce themselves—over email and text, thank God—and I made it to all my classes on time with only minor detours. And Foster … well, he just keeps popping up.