Page 4 of Touchdown, Tennessee
“Would if I could.”
“Make it so that getting tackled near the end zone still counts as a touchdown. I think that would be the only thing to make me feel better.”
“You’re more likely to get me to blow you than to have that happen, Andrew.”
I pulled in a breath and gave Luke a shove. My team all supported that I was openly gay, but they razzed me just as much as they’d mess with anybody else, too.
Coach took Luke aside for a minute. He was probably telling him that the fuck-up out on the field wasn’t his fault.
100% true.
I knew the fault was mine.
I glanced over at the pair of blue eyes on the edge of the field, staring at me like they knew something I didn’t.
That heavy feeling in my chest came back in again, like a fat anvil somebody put right on my sternum.
Coach had told us that Gray would be watching us for the next two months until our Homecoming game.
Interviewing us.
Shadowing us.
Gray Gilman had written about the theater club last year, alluding very subtly to one girl’s coke addiction. But people could read between the lines. The gossip mill went wild until half of the theater club quit and a few students had to transfer out of TNU.
His articles were the only things people ever actually read in the school paper, instead of skimming through them or skipping them altogether. Gray Gilman wrote articles about people like he was taking knives to their throats. I never knew a school paper could be turned into a weapon of war, but he made it happen.
And last semester, he wrote an article about a basketball player. Then, soon after, people found out that the basketball player had a secret online profile where he drew and sold illustrations of dragons with gigantic dicks having their way with mermaid women.
Gray never said it outright in the article itself, but again, he planted the seeds that students picked up on.
And I’m not going to let you plant a single fucked-up seed about me.
“Watcha lookin’ at, Captain America?” I heard from behind me a minute later.
Luke was at my side again, slapping me on the bicep.
The last remnants of the crowd were already streaming out of the stands.
“They always seem to leave faster when we lose,” I said. I kept my head down, trying to ignore the obvious downcast feeling radiating throughout the entire field.
“You didn’t have any of the freshman girls and boys come up to you this time,” Luke said.
My heart squeezed in my chest. “Nobody wants a selfie with me if I whiff touchdowns like that.”
“I’m sure the Andrew Peachel fan club will be back next game,” Luke assured me. “Remember the ones from last week? The gay guy and his sister who both wanted your number?”
“Hope they weren’t watching tonight’s game.”
“What was up tonight? Usually you’re like a laser out there.”
“I was distracted.”
Luke furrowed his brow. “Distracted by…?”
“I’m looking at the guy on the sidelines who is about to ruin our football season,” I finally told Luke.
Luke looked over. “Oh. The guy from the paper?”
