Page 36 of Rocking the Receiver
To get a breather from my gloomy thoughts on this glorious day, I volunteer to grab some snacks and beverages and quickly head for the nearest concourse.
Lost in my thoughts, I push my secrets away and focus on people talking about Elliot. Would they keep on raving about him if they knew he was gay? Would his personal life make a difference? Would they actually care?
I’m somehow relieved that Elliot came out to his former roommate, Chris; I felt bad that he didn’t have anyone to confide in and be his real self with, except for me. Looks like we’ve been fighting the same demons.
During their college years, those two built a solid friendship. Eventually, Chris said he’d guessed something was up because, as months passed, Elliot spent less and less time on campus. His friend was oddly unperturbed by the news, but enraged at Davis’s BS in retrospect. My man is lucky to have found someone who complained to Coach Stevens so that such behavior would be condemned; Elliot didn’t.
Maybe Elliot and Gunner will end up being friends. After all, they do spend extensive hours together, while Chris chose to pursue a Masters’ degree.
The fact that the Troopers are a super inclusive team wasn’t enough to assuage Elliot’s paranoia. Hence, my boyfriend reluctantly felt the need to share his sexual orientation with Caitlin Cole, a PR person for the Troopers, before preseason began. He invited her to our home for brunch, which wasn’t customary, but LeFire’sFrenchnessapparently granted him a pass. The forty-something woman was telling him she appreciated his coming forward so that she’ll be prepared in case something came up, when I came down from the rooftop gym.Who would have guessed that she’d fangirl over me? But her lips are sealed. Remembering her gawking face, I stroke the back of my neck, a cocky grin spreading on my face.
Elliot’s cockiness is rubbing off on me…
Oops!
Once I’m done distributingrefreshments to my grateful former host family, I sit back down to enjoy the show, and my attention returns to the game. The third quarter is about to start.
Soon enough, I’m leaning forward, elbows resting on my knees. The tension builds as Elliot lines up for the snap.
“Come on, Elliot,” Tim encourages. “You got this!”
The play begins, and Elliot bursts off the line, sprinting downfield with incredible speed. Heat rushes through my body, and my cheeks redden.
I knew he had it in him.
Jones fakes a handoff, then fires a quick pass to him just as Elliot cuts inside.
My eyes widen, glued to the field.
Elliot pivots, and his foot slips awkwardly on the turf.
My heart skips a beat when he crumples to the ground, grabbing his ankle and rolling in agony. I gawk, my eyes bulging from their sockets.
This can’t be happening.
But it is… Overcoming the surge of emotion, I jump out of my seat. “Oh, no!” Blood rushes to my temples while my pulse pounds so hard in my ears that I cover them with my hands to make it stop.
An injury timeout is called. The crowd is silent. The panic is palpable.
Fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Helpless, I watch the medical staff hurry Elliot’s way, willing myself to get my bearings. Hands on my thighs, I work to get my breathing in check.
From the distance, the grim look on the medical staff’s faces says it all as far as Elliot’s future in today’s game is concerned.
Over.
Nathan’s breathingtechniques come in handy throughout this whole ordeal. I’m amazed by my ability to follow the steps so religiously, but it prevents me from having a panic attack, unlike Elliot’s family members next to me. Dealing with my own shit takes priority, and they’re all too stressed to focus on me anyway.
Certain that I’ve switched my phone to airplane mode, I almost miss the buzzing sound coming from my pants pocket. Fingers clutching my phone, I see a string of rapid-fire texts from Caitlin Cole.
“Fuck!” I mutter between clenched teeth and blankly stare at the screen. Struggling to make sense of the words, I reread the first text.
Caitlin
Hey.
E said you’re here.
