My nostrils flare as his insinuation washes over me.
This fucking jackass.
Yeah, I might be best friends with Taylor, but I earned my spot, just like Elliott and Drew did. My ties to the Scott family have absolutely nothing to do with it.
And the entire team, Ciaráin included, knows this. I’ve more than proven my talent and worth at this point.
Not to mention everything else he’s said? Not true. At-fucking-all.
“You know that’s bullshit,” I snap, my temper rising quickly.
“Yeah, that might be true. But it had to suck, right? To have someone think you didn’t earn what you have? That you’ve been given special treatment because you’ve got some sort of connection?” His brow lifts, daring me to challenge him.
Ah. Now I see his point.
But the only issue is, none of this is my fault. I didn’t do anything. Not really.
I didn’t ask to be bisexual, just wake up one day and decide I think I like dick as much as I like pussy and now the rest is history. This is who I am to my very core, and I can’t change that.
It isn’t on me if he can’t deal with it, it’s his own damn problem.
And okay, sure I’ve been checking him out a lot but from the sounds of it, he isn’t really aware of it besides the one time.
At least, I hope.
Letting out a sigh of frustration, I give him a pleading glance. “Look, man. I’m really sorry Elliott said shit to you. But everyone on this team can see what kind of athlete you are by the way you perform on the field. You’ve more than earned every ounce of trust I have in you to do what you came here to do.”
And it’s true. I mean, we clearly aren’t sleeping together or whatever Elliott thought. But also it’s true that I trust him. I don’t know why, but from the first day, it’s like it was as simple as breathing.
Don’t have a place to put the ball? Give it to Grady.
Heavy defenders? About to get sacked? Give it to Grady.
Fourth and long? Give it to Grady.
It just…makes sense to me, so I never thought to question it. And I can’t exactly be mad at the results coming from following my gut instinct.
Ciaráin frowns. “I know I have. But I don’t want this kind of bullshit dragging me down and fucking with my game.”
“What are you saying? You don’t want to fuck around with me? Okay, dude. I got it. You’re not into dicks.”
Unfortunate turn of events for me, but I’ve survived this long without boning a teammate, I think I’ll make it through this too.
He licks his lips before settling them in a thin line, taking his time to measure his response. “I’m saying I think it might be best if we kept our interactions strictly professional. Football related. Other than that, we have no reason to be seen together, talking to each other.”
I laugh. “What the hell is this, Ciaráin? Are you trying to make me some dirty fucking secret? That makes no sense at all. Why can’t people see us together? We’re teammates.”
“Because if one person already thought I was giving you a nice dicking after like two weeks…” He glances around the open area at the passersby paying no attention to us before fixing me with his stare. “I’m not about to be subjected to these kinds of bullshit theories just because my quarterback enjoys cock.”
“So what? That means you have to act like we’re teammates and teammates alone?”
“We are just teammates. We’re nothing more, never will be.”
Ouch. All right then.
Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t expecting some sort of declaration of love or whatever. But shit, that was a tad harsh even by my I refuse to filter myself standard.
“I thought…” I start, letting out a humorless laugh, “I thought me inviting you to that party was me trying to be your friend. Sure, I might be bisexual but I don’t make it a habit of fucking around with my teammates.”
Not to say I’d be opposed to fucking around with you specifically…
Shaking my head in an attempt to dislodge those thoughts, I sigh. “Look, Ciaráin, I’m sorry. I don’t know what else there is to say. I don’t think Elliott meant anything by it, not really. The guy is a dickhead sometimes, but he’s good people.”
He nods a couple times, his eyes flashing between mine. “I appreciate it, man, but it doesn’t matter,” he shrugs. “I’m not doing this with you.”
“Doing what? Having a goddamn friendship?” My voice is rising as I try to contain my outrage. Because honestly, this is...it’s stupid. No other word for it. “Plenty of straight dudes are friends with guys who are gay or bi. It’s the fucking twenty-first century.”
Ciaráin gives me a warning look before lowering his voice to a deadly level. “Let it fucking go, River.”
He’s right, I should let it go. I know this.
I’m not one of those people who needs everyone to like me, I never have been. My bluntness and my pervy jokes are off-putting to some people, but I couldn’t care less most of the time.
So why do I care that he wants nothing to do with me?
Because I should cut my losses, duck and run to lick my wounds and focus on making sure the two of us are still meshing on the field. That’s the most important thing when it comes to the two of us anyway.
I should let it go. Because that’s the smart, rational thing to do.
But, spoiler alert, I don’t let it go.
No, instead I step up in his space, close enough he has to look me in the eye and give it to my straight. “Why should I? You haven’t given me a real fucking answer, let alone a good enough reason.”
His teeth gnaw at his bottom lip and I glance down to watch his fists clench over and over again, like he’s attempting to hold himself back from doing something stupid. Like hitting me.
When he finally does speak a minute later, his voice is laced with venom, deadly as it licks over my skin. “Then let this be it. I don’t associate myself with fucking faggots. Now get the fuck out of my face before I deck you in yours.”
My jaw drops when my brain finally catches up enough to register what he just said to me. What he just called me.
I’m no stranger to the word faggot. Ever since I came out in high school, I’ve dealt with various levels of homophobia, even in a place as chill and accepting as Boulder. It’s rare, but it does happen.
But shit, I never thought it could cut this deep from someone I barely even know. Someone who, for some damn reason, I have this insane draw toward. Like a moth to a flame.
And by doing that? He drew a line in the sand, each of us standing on opposite sides.
Because I can’t respect someone who would say shit like that to me.
Ciaráin doesn’t wait for me to respond, just turns on a heel and continues down the path toward whatever building his next class is in like he didn’t drop a bomb on me, easily causing a rift between the two of us from this point onward.
I stare after him, his form retreating up the stairs and into the building, finally beginning to understand why it seems like every interaction we have ends with him walking away from me.
“Keep going, man. You’re right fucking there,” Drew tells me as he focuses on the stopwatch in his hand.