Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Doubt still permeated me.
Until Homecoming weekend, when the article was out, we weren’t going to know the truth. Gray could be telling me lies, ready to betray the whole team when it was published.
But something inside me wanted to trust him.
Wanted to feel like I’d won over the enemy.
Maybe even like I’d made him mine.
“They’re here! That’s the TV crew,” Luke pointed out as the small fleet of ESPN vehicles arrived.
There were four vans. They parked and one by one, members of the camera crew spilled out, bringing out giant camera rigs, lights, and equipment.
My heart pounded in my chest.
I didn’t feel ready.
Would I ever feel ready for something like this?
As the crew set up bright lights, I tried to keep my eyes over on Gray.
And for the first time, over on the sidelines, he smiled at me and blew me a little kiss.
The motherfucker.
For weeks and weeks, all he’d ever given me from the sidelines was a cold, calculating stare. Like he had to be a neutral, unattached observer.
Why, why, why do I have to like you so much?
After the crew got set up, the interviewer got into place. She let us know the questions she’d be asking, but before I knew it, the cameras started rolling.
“Miranda Bennett here at Tennessee North University. We’re here with Luke Linford, quarterback of the Tempests, and Andrew Peachel, the Tempests’ new wide receiver this season. Linford, how has it been working with Peachel so far?”
“It’s been a fucking dream. Oh God, I can’t swear—it’s been a dream.”
The interviewer laughed. “Don’t sweat it. Peachel, rumor has it that you’re looking to go pro in the next year or two. Can you confirm or deny that?”
“Well, it’s always up to fate,” I said. “But I think if the right opportunity came my way, I’d have a hard time saying no.”
The interview happened fast.
We talked for about ten minutes, but I swore it felt like two. Miranda asked us about Coach Ennick, and we both gave our standard answers. She asked how it felt to be bringing TNU football “back on the map” after hockey had reigned supreme for so long.
“I just want to ask you both. What inspires you, on and off the field?”
Luke took the question first, handling it well.
“I do everything for our fans,” Luke said. “They show up every game, decked out in green and gold. They keep us hyped. And they’re the best fans in all of college football.”
“Agreed,” I said. “And I also do it for everyone out there who thinks they can’t make it. For anyone who doesn’t believe they’re good at anything else other than football.”
My heart squeezed in my chest as I said it.
It was the goddamn truth.
And finally, she was on her last question.
It was one I was used to over the past year, but it was still always special to me.
“Andrew, from what I hear about TNU football, I’ve been told you’re always very outspoken about LGBTQ rights. As a gay man, do you have any words for other young students out there who might be in the same position as you?
I swallowed, nodding.
I had a lot of standard answers I could give. Ones I’d given before, for smaller news outlets and interviews online.
“I’ve said before, and I’ll always say that I want to inspire other young people out there questioning who they are—or young people who know exactly who they are, and are afraid to be themselves. I want college football, and all of football to be a welcoming place for them to do that.”
“Amen,” Miranda said.
“And also, for anyone who ever felt different,” I said.
I could still feel the liquor swirling in my veins.
But I also knew I needed to say something more.
I glanced over at Gray as I spoke, a slight tremble coming into my voice.
“For anyone who felt different because of anything about them,” I continued. “People who grew up thinking they meant nothing. Whose childhoods were full of trauma. Anyone who had to fight their whole life to get what they have. I only have one thing to say.”
“Say it,” Miranda told me, holding the microphone a little closer to my face.
I looked at Gray.
“I fucking believe in you.”
“You swore, man!” Luke whispered nearby.
I blinked. “Oh. Right. Sorry about swearing.”
Miranda laughed, smoothing it over. “We have a slight network delay for a reason, boys. Don’t worry.”
Miranda wrapped up the interview soon after, and the camera crew finally started to disassemble their setup.
I felt like I was floating on a cloud. Still drunk, still unsure about anything in my future.
But I knew one thing.
For the first time, my own public image hadn’t been my main concern.
There was something more important that I’d needed to say.
Gray had spent a lifetime not believing in himself, too. Thinking he was nothing. And I couldn’t tolerate the idea of that anymore.