I burst onto the practice field like a goddamn maniac, hair still wet from the shower, bag slung over one shoulder. The team was already running drills.
PHEEEEEET!
Coach's whistle cut through the air like a knife. "Anderson! You're fucking late again!" he barked, eyes narrowing at me. "Does my warning not mean anything, or do you think I'm a joke?"
"Sorry, Coach," I panted, dropping my bag. "Alarm didn't go off."
He stared at me like he could smell the bullshit, then grunted. "Get your ass in line. Extra laps after practice."
"Yes, sir."
I jogged over to the team, trying to ignore how shaky my legs still felt from that fucked-up dream. The guys were laughing and messing around like usual. Everything looked normal… except me.
"Rough night?" Luke asked as he jogged up beside me.
"Fuck off," I muttered, picking up speed.
"Aww, is my baby Z going through puberty?" he said sarcastically. "Don't worry, honey, mama's here."
God, I wanted to punch him.
This whole mess started because of him. If he hadn't ditched me at that stupid party twice, none of this would've happened. I wouldn't have ended up in that bathroom with Braden. I wouldn't be having that weird-ass dream.
"Focus, Anderson!" Coach yelled.
"Yes, Coach!"
For a while, I actually managed to lock in. Throwing the ball helped. The burn in my arms and shoulders helped. Football had always been my escape. But every time I planted my feet and cocked my arm back, I saw Braden pinning me against the wall. His mouth. His hands. The way my body had reacted.
I shook my head hard and threw a perfect spiral.
Good. Normal. I'm fine.
After practice, while I was finishing my punishment laps, my mind started spiraling again. Why the fuck did I kiss him back? Why did I get so hard?
By the time I finished, the field was mostly empty. I grabbed my stuff and headed toward the locker room.
That's when I saw him.
Braden was standing near the locker room entrance, scrolling on his phone like he had every right to be there.
The second I saw his face, rage flooded through me. Because of this son of a bitch
Before I could even think, I ran up and swung. My fist connected hard. Braden stumbled back and hit the ground. I grabbed him by the shirt and punched him again.
"You son of a bitch!" I yelled. "That's for fucking kissing me and messing with my head, you motherfucker!"
"Fucking faggot"
The locker room door flew open. Luke came running out and shoved me off Braden hard.
damm, how much did he hear as panic washed over me
"Fuck— shit, Luke, it's not what it looks like!"
"What the fuck did you just call him?" Luke snapped, voice shaking with anger.
"Luke, I can explain"
"Explain what?" he yelled. "You calling him a faggot?"
"It's not like that; I was just angry"
I tried to explain, but the words sounded weak even to me. Luke walked over to Braden and helped him up, brushing dirt off his shoulder.
"Why the fuck are you mad at me?" I said. "I already apologized. If anyone should be apologizing, it's that asshole!"
Luke turned to me with a look of pure disappointment that hit harder than any punch. "What should he apologize for, Zack?"
I couldn't answer.
Luke didn't know what happened in that bathroom, and I sure as hell didn't have the balls to tell him.
"Luke, it's complicated, okay?"
"The moment you call him a faggot, you're also calling me one," Luke said, his eyes glistening with tears. "Which means you're a homophobic piece of shit that I'm not sure I want to be friends with anymore."
My stomach dropped.
"Fuck… I know I'm fucked up, man. But you're my best friend. You know me. I was just angry, okay? I'm sorry. I'll even apologize to him."
I turned to Braden, jaw tight. "Yo… no hard feelings. I might've taken it too far. Sorry."
Braden didn't say a word. He just stared at me with those blue, unreadable eyes.
Luke shook his head. "Let's go, Braden."
I stood there frozen as Luke and Braden walked off together.
"Fuck!" I yelled, gripping my hair. "Ahh, I really fucked up…"
The one thing I didn't want to lose was my friendship with Luke. And now it was slipping through my fingers.