16. Jordan

SIXTEEN

Blaise toldhis friends about us last night, and according to him, they'd already guessed. I don't think my friends are as smart as that about queer stuff or relationships in general, though. Even though I'm confident they're going to be cool about this, I'm still sweating bullets right now.

The Rockies and Diamondbacks are playing tonight, and even though it's still only Spring Training and we won't be watching live, we all love ball enough that neither Polly nor Boyle thought it was weird for me to invite them over to watch the game in my dorm room. My roommate's gone out—because it's Friday night. Duh—and I'm the only one of us with a TV in his room. It was my Christmas present from my dads freshman year, and even though it's pretty small, the room's not big, so it works fine.

I wait until we're well into the second inning of what's turning out to be a really mediocre game. Boyle, for reasons only he understands, is stretched out on the floor, his neck craned at the most awkward angle known to man. Polly and I are sitting on my bed, backs against the wall, feet dangling over the side. We have soda, popcorn, and Twizzlers, and the path to the door is clear if one of them needs to get away and take some time to process. This is going to be fine.

"So," I say abruptly. "Blaise is my boyfriend."

Polly chokes on his soda. I guess my timing could have been better. I thump him on the back while Boyle rolls onto his side and stares at me with his mouth open.

When Polly can finally breathe again, he wheezes, "Bro. A little warning?"

"Sorry." I grimace. "But… yeah."

"Since when are you into dudes?" Boyle demands. "You never said before."

Neither of them seems mad about it, and that bolsters my confidence. "It turns out, always. Before it was just men I'd never met, like Nolan Arenado." I nod toward the screen, where my number-one MLB crush is currently up at bat.

"But now it's not?" Polly looks confused. "I don't get it—when did you and Blaise start dating?"

"And why did you never tell us you were queer?" Boyle sits up. "Did you think we'd be bigots?" He sounds hurt, and I shake my head.

"No way. I knew you both would be fine with it." I push aside the pang of guilt as I remember how nervous I just was. "But like I said, I wasn't even sure until I met Blaise and realized it wasn't just a famous people thing, you know? And then I was getting used to the idea, and we were fooling around… I don't want to, like, come out, come out. Coach would shit a unicorn about the media attention."

"He so would," Polly mutters, and Boyle shudders.

"He'd shit a bigger one if it was a surprise," he warns.

I shrug. "I'll probably tell him. Maybe. For now, Blaise and I have only just decided to make it official, so we're telling our friends, but we don't want it to be a thing. As far as everyone else knows, I've dated women but never said anything about my orientation."

"Well, I like Blaise, and I'm happy if you're happy," Boyle declares. "Does Xera know? Because if she knew before I did, we're gonna have a problem, man. I know she and Butch are all loved up and Butch is Blaise's friend, but you and me are bros."

Wincing, I tell him, "She didn't know, but Blaise told his friends last night, and apparently they'd already guessed. Including Xera." Which made me feel like a prize idiot.

He screws up his face in thought. "I guess that's okay," he concedes finally. "She's always had, like, radar for relationships. It's not your fault she guessed."

Gee, thanks. I look at Polly, who still seems a bit shell-shocked.

"Who else knows? You said Blaise's friends."

"My sister and her boyfriend. And my dads know I'm queer, but I haven't told them about Blaise yet. I thought he could have dinner with us tomorrow night."

"Whoa," Boyle mutters. "So he's a boyfriend boyfriend. Wait, your dads are coming here?"

Polly's eyes go wide. "It's not just to meet Blaise, is it? You're not going to propose or anything, are you, because if you are, I need more than just soda right now."

I sock him in the arm. "No, you moron. Jesus, we've only known each other six weeks. My dads had meetings or something in LA this week, and they're coming down to see me before they go back." I was kind of relieved when they got held up this afternoon and told me they wouldn't get in until late—it gave me this chance to talk to the guys. "I'm going to have breakfast with them tomorrow and tell them about him then."

"What about the rest of the team?" Polly asks, a frown creasing his brow. "You said you'd maybe tell Coach, but what about them?"

That's something I've been trying not to think too much about since Blaise brought it up the other night. "I don't know," I admit. "I want to. Team unity, right? But that's a lot of people who'll know, and they're cool, but…"

"Not all of them are that cool," Boyle finishes. "There's a few who avoid Xera. Maybe they just don't like her, but maybe they don't like that she's not hetero." He shrugs.

"C'mon," Polly protests, but it's weak. "We know these guys."

"That doesn't mean accidents don't happen. We knew Hannaway, and he did something stupid that ended up being really stupid." They know I don't mean he deliberately hooked up with a minor—just that when you're drunk, your judgment is off. Even if all my teammates are genuinely okay with me dating a man, that doesn't mean one won't accidentally let it slip to the wrong person. And then bam, I'm an out collegiate athlete and ESPN will be televising our games for the wrong reasons.

It's not a risk I'm ready to take yet.

Uncle Luke looks up from his menu, sees me, and breaks into a broad grin that I can't help returning. Thankfully, he doesn't call out across the room or any of the other potentially embarrassing things I've seen my friends' parents do. Instead, he and Grant wait until I reach the table before standing up to give me giant bear hugs, as if it's been a year since they saw me and not two months.

Man, I've missed them.

When we're all sitting, Grant says, "You look good, Jordan. Winning clearly agrees with you."

"Don't jinx it," I warn him. That's the last thing I need right now.

"Um, excuse me, are we just not going to talk about the elephant in the room?" Uncle Luke demands, surprising me. I didn't think he'd make a big deal of me being queer, not after our talk about it, and he doesn't know about Blaise yet… does he? Maybe Mila told him?

"What elephant?" Grant asks, and Uncle Luke reaches out to tug my earlobe.

"The one that's blinding me right now. Honestly, Jordan, have you never heard of subtlety?"

I laugh as Grant mutters, "I didn't even see those."

"I would have gotten bigger ones if they had them," I admit. "I lost a bet. But it's fine, because I like them." Plus, next week Blaise and I are going shopping to pick out the first three pairs of earrings he owes me. I'm thinking biiiiig bling and maybe some colored stones.

Our server comes over just then, and we order. I love the breakfasts here at Food Café, but I don't eat here that often because usually I'm grabbing stuff on my way somewhere else, and the dining hall or the food trucks are more convenient and faster.

"So," Grant begins, sitting back, "I heard your news. Thank you for trusting me with it."

Aw. "Please. Like I don't trust you with everything in my life. There's no way I wouldn't have told you this." I stop, because I actually didn't tell him. "I mean, I would have told you myself, except I'm too lazy to make an extra phone call, and I knew Uncle Luke would want to angst over it anyway, so…" I shrug. "Two birds, one stone."

"I didn't angst over it," Uncle Luke protests. "What does that even mean, anyway?"

"I love you, but you did," Grant tells him. "Worrying about your kids is an automatic reaction for you. But clearly Jordan's fine." He sweeps a hand in my direction. "He's happy, he's expanding his personal style, he's excelling in his sport. This is a kid we only have to worry about a normal amount." He lifts his water glass in salute to me before taking a sip.

"Thank you." I grin and wait for him to put his glass down. I learned my lesson from Polly last night—no more talking while people are drinking.

"I guess that's true," Uncle Luke concedes. "You gave me fewer gray hairs than your sister did." Considering he's only just started graying around the temples, I roll my eyes. But I'll definitely be telling Mila he said she's the problem child. "So, we have news. I wasn't going to say anything until tonight, but I'd rather get it out of the way."

Uh-oh. "Are you sick?" Panic spirals dizzyingly through me. I can't lose Uncle Luke. I just can't.

"No, sorry, it's not that. I'm fine, Grant's fine, everyone's fine." He reaches out to pat my arm as I sag in my chair.

"Jesus, Uncle Luke, don't scare me like that." I gulp down my water, still feeling a little shaky.

"You suck at this," Grant says affectionately, then turns to me. "We're happy about this, but your uncle is a little worried about how you and Mila are going to take it."

"If you're happy, I'm happy," I declare, then add, "Unless you're divorcing."

"We're not," they say in unison, then smile at each other.

"Not happening," Grant tacks on. "No, I've been offered a job at a company here in California, and you know Joy wants Luke to move back to head office here, so?—"

"You're leaving Joyville." I'm surprised by how much my stomach sinks. I knew this would happen eventually, but it's harder than I expected it to be.

"Yes." Uncle Luke watches me closely, and I muster a smile.

"Like I said, if you're happy, I'm happy."

"Really?" Grant eyes me. "Because we know how much you love it there."

"But I don't live there anymore," I point out. "And a big reason for me loving it so much was my family being there and the life we had. I love you guys the most."

Uncle Luke looks up at the ceiling and sniffles a little, while Grant clears his throat and smiles at me. "We love you too, Jordan. You know you'll always have a room in our house, no matter where we all end up, right?"

I snort. "Grant, you're my dads. That's a given. Now, in a minute I'm going to ask you about your new job, but first I have news too."

"Oh?" The worried look is back on Uncle Luke's face.

"Yeah, but don't worry. You'll like it."

"Hit us with it, then," Grant invites.

"My boyfriend and I told our closest friends about us."

Our server comes back at that moment with our food, which is just as well, since I've shocked my dads into silence.

"Bon appétit!"