Page 255 of Wrath

Ezra

Holy shit. Here we are. In the clouds, up in the blue sky, cruising toward LAX on a chilly winter afternoon—an afternoon when I'm not taking Xanax...or drinking. I'm in first class, in an aisle seat, sitting beside Clint Ross, one of the running backs. I've got a lot of leg room, a decent handle on my claustrophobia, and my phone in my hands.

I send Mills a dumb selfie with my head tipped back against the chair's headrest. Then I take one with a smile for Dad and Suzanne. I fire it off to Luke, too, on a whim. He replies before my dad or Miller—with a picture of two Rose Bowl Tickets.

'Whatttt,'I reply.

'It's too close for us to pass up. National championships is big stuff. V says tell you hi.'

I text back,'Hi to V.'

'See y'all after the game?'I text them both.'Quick hello, or dinner?'

'For sure,'V texts back.‘Eden is being babysat during, butwe'll grab her after, and Luke and I will make some reservations.'

'Could you make them for 4adults?'I include a blushing smiley, and I watch Vance texting for a minute before he actually sends something.

'You bringing someone for us to meet? See if he gets McDowell approval? U know Eden is the harshest critic. 10/10 would recommend bringing a baby treat.'

I send a laughing face.'His name is Miller...'

'Oh fuck,’Vance replies.‘Is this the situation you told us about on the phone a few weeks ago?’

‘Mmhmm’

‘You doing ok?’he asks.‘Feeling happy?'

'Actually- very. It's kinda weird.'

'I know the feeling. Take care of yourself, ok? Hoping for a great game- nothing but fun.'

I think that might be Vance's way of telling me not to take things too seriously. That they don't care if Bama wins?

'For sure. Nothing but fun. Josh Miller. That's his full name.'On a whim, I send them a pic of Miller and me—taken up on the cemetery wall the day we left Fairplay.

I spend the rest of the flight texting with Mills as he makes his way through security and pre-flight at Hartsfield International Airport in Atlanta. By the time we're dipping into the smooth, cotton-candy pink sky over LAX, he’s boarded his plane and is sending me a smiling pic of him with AirPods in his ears and a Crimson Tide hat on his head. He's doing the American Sign Language sign for ‘I love you’ with his hand.

Ross leans over right as I smile, and he screws up his eyebrows. "That's a boy?" he says.

My stomach dips as I laugh—trying to sound smooth. "Yeah, that’s a boy."

"That's a boy doing the I love you?"

I arch my brows. "That's a boy doing the I love you."

"He sending that to you?" To his credit, I think he tries to ask me in a neutral tone.

"If he was, would that be too weird for ya, Ross?"

"If you're gay?" He bugs out his eyes, and I bug mine out, too.

"Are you gay?" He's hissing. "You swing for that team, brother? All this time, I didn't know?"

I swallow. "I'm not in, but I'm not really out, either."

He tilts the phone down toward him. "I like this boy. He's got freckles. You gonna like a boy, you gotta like a white boy with blue eyes and freckles. I’ve got a cousin who's gay. Lil Nas X’s gay. On some ride that horse shit." Ross taps my phone. "This guy's the horse. Or you’re the horse?" He frowns at me. "You know what, I don't need that detail."

I swallow a laugh. “Does it make you think about me different?" I manage to ask—as quietly as I can.

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