Free Ruthlessly His by Walker Cole

sporty looking guys are squeezing through the crowd in front of us. One of them sees Colt and stops his group. He points at us, and they start making their way over. I look at Colt, and he seems nervous. “Do you want to run?” I ask.
    “No, no,” he says. “It’s fine.”
    “Tommy?” Colt asks.
    “Yeah,” the dude says. “What’s up man?”
    Colt turns to me and says, “I used to coach this kid, last year.”
    “I never knew you were pro-gay rights, Coach.”
    “Yeah,” Colt says. “I’m here with my friend, Leo,” he says and introduces me.
    “Can I get a picture of us?” Tommy asks.
    Colt nods and passes Tommy’s camera to me. Colt puts his arm around the guy and they smile.
    After they leave, I turn to Colt. “What was that?” I ask.
    “What do you mean? I was just being myself. Did I do something wrong?”
    “Just surprised me, that’s all.” I smile.
    “That guy was one of our best quarterbacks. He got pushed out of the team by the other guys—I think because of his orientation. What a mess,” he says, shaking his head in disdain.
    I nod. All this time, I knew Colt had a moral compass.
     
    * * *
     

The parade winds down, and I take Colt over to the station. He has an evening training session later. “I’m proud of you for today,” I say.
    “I thought you might be,” he says as his phone buzzes. “I’ve got an email from that Trevor dude I was talking about. Apparently, I need to go and meet him urgently.”
    “Wait, what?” I ask.
    “I have no idea what this is about before you ask,” he says. “Maybe the photos leaked?”
    I lean my head onto Colt’s shoulder. “We would have heard about it, right? Someone would have called you,” I say. He checks his phone and doesn’t find anything. “Let me know what happens.”
    “Damn it,” he says. “I’m not ready for this.” He hugs me.
    “You don’t mind hugging me?” I ask. “Here in the station?”
    “There are more important things to worry about.”
    “We’ll see each other again if the photos break, right?” I ask.
    Colt brushes some hair behind my ear. “What do you mean, of course.”
    “I just thought, you might want to be with Nancy, for your image.”
    Colt gives me a nasty look. “I can’t believe that’s what you think of me.”
    “Lot’s of people would, Colt. Don’t pretend like it’s the most unlikely thing for a sports-guy to do,” I say.
    “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”
    “I take it back,” I say. “Okay?”
    “Fine,” he says. “I need to go and sort out whatever this is.”
    “Good luck.” I see Colt’s butt walk onto the train. He takes a window seat and looks out at me. I wave, and he does a little smile and then looks around for something. He must be under so much stress. He starts reading a newspaper as the train pulls away.
     
    * * *
     

Colt
     
    I drive straight to training from the station. I plug my phone into the car radio and listen to a message from Nancy. “Where the hell have you been?” it starts. “Someone called from the university, saying they needed to speak to you. I had to lie and say you were visiting friends. Do you know how embarrassing that was for me? Not knowing where you are—” I stop the voice message right there.
    I drive with my headlights on high beam. The whole way there I don’t pass another car. I can’t remember ever wishing for there to be traffic or a small accident—anything to delay my arrival. These late night training sessions were my idea a few years ago. After studying all day, the student athletes love letting off steam. I also read this sports science study that said that athletes were more likely to remember tactics if they learned them after dark. Wacky, right?
    There’s a journalist hanging around outside the school gates. I guess he’s looking for pictures of the players arriving. The media is crazy. I pull up by his car and stick my head out. “Hey,” I say, as he takes a couple of pictures of me.