Page 68 of Honeysuckle
“Fuck off, Josh.” My voice cracked.
“That you have a laundry list of ass under your belt,” he sneered.
“Enough,” I growled.
“What do you think is going to happen when your mommy finds out that her little golden boy is a—”
“Shut up!” I cut him off.
“No, you think that the press will stop at one politely worded question?” Josh growled. "They’re going to pick you apart like vultures, you’ll be nothing but bones when they’re done with you!”
“I can—”
“Avoid it? You're captain, Dean, there’s no avoiding this anymore!” Josh reminded me and put his arms out at his side, a smug smile on his face. “Hudson was the tip of the iceberg, the homophobia that you saw yesterday is nothing compared to what runs deep in this league, and that’s when they all thought you werenormal.” He said it like an insult. “You don’t get to pretend you’re straight anymore, you have to lead the way!”
“Why me?” I snapped. "Let someone else do it!”
“Coach Cody chose you for a reason,” Josh said. “It wasn’t just because you’re a pretty face.”
“I’m a good ball player.” I shrugged, my emotions were frayed and sparking like live wires.
“You’re gay, Tuck!” Josh yelled.
“Shut the fuck up before someone hears you!” I snapped.
“Own it!” He demanded. “Why is it theirs to control?” He asked.
“It’s not,” I argued, and he stepped forward, the shadows casting over his face as he re-entered the tunnel.
“Then why do they shame you for it? Why do you let them?” He asked.
“I don’t.” I shook my head, but I could feel his question slithering around under my skin.
“You do, you let them tell you how to feel. You aren’t in control, Tuck.”
“Don’t fucking call me that,” I said, the frustrating mounting. “You’re mouthy for a guy in the same position.”
“I’m bi-sexual, no one even believes my sexuality is real. I’m just an attention whore, a slut, a fuck bag,” Josh’s voice was sick with anger. “And I’m not the captain, they don’t care about where I stick my dick.”
“I don’t want to have this conversation.” I stepped back and tried to inhale but it was like all the air had been sucked from the stadium. “Not with you.”
He ignored me with a smile on his face.
“If you control it, control the narrative, then you control the emotions. You want to pretend that you have a handle on everything, and for a while there, I questioned whether or not you were even human, but I see the cracks now.”
“Stop it,” I said to him, my jaw clenched to keep from crying and my hands balling into a fist. “You can’t force me to tell them!”
“Maybe,” he admitted, “but it’s too late for confessions.” Josh continued his slow, methodical steps. “They run the news at five am. Highlights start right after the weather. You left your phone at Dansby House, but it’s probably ringing. How many missed calls from your dad before you fall apart?”
I hated how easily he dissected it all.
I needed him to stop, I couldn’t catch my breath, and the dread seeped into my bones.
“Own it before theytakeit from you,” Josh demanded. He moved forward some more, completely unaware of our closeness in his effort to make me see what he saw. “Come on, Tuck, who are you? After they pull you apart for the good of their own twisted morals, who the hell is Dean Tucker?”
“Son,” I whispered.
“No,” he stopped me. “Who areyou,not who do you want to be forthem?”
