Chapter 6: Kelley

Chapter 6

Kelley

I turn to face Thad. The night is crisp, and even though we’re covered in layers of warm clothing, it’s so cold my snot is forming into ice crystals. Lovely.

I sniff. “You haven’t read my file? Like, at all? Are you sure you want to be a sports agent? I know you’re only an intern, but knowing your client’s basic information would probably be helpful.”

Thad’s gloved hand adjusts the beanie on his head. “I … Ugh. I need to apologize. Will you let me explain back at the cabin over a nice hot cup of cocoa?”

It’s impossible to know how to take Thad. His mood swings. Is he being genuine, or is he going to give me a cup of poisoned cocoa? Who’s to know?

Also, me? Catastrophizing? Never. I continue to stare at him until he keeps speaking.

“I really do want to explain myself, but it’s cold as balls out here, and it’s not going to be as simple as ‘I’m an asshole.’”

My lips twitch, wanting to smile, but I still don’t know what he’s actually going to say. “I’ll hear you out. Mainly because we have another week and a half of living under the same roof, and I’d really like it if there was a chance you’ll stop scowling at me.” I turn on my heel and continue down the road to our cabin .

Something tells me that Thad isn’t the type of guy to apologize a lot. Or at all. With the way he looks, I doubt he has to. Men probably thank him for treating them like dirt and kiss his feet.

And now I really need to not think about men being on their knees for him before my body thinks it’s a great idea.

When we reach the cabin, we strip off our outer layers, and Thad moves to the kitchen while I sit on the living room couch, not really knowing what to do. If I put the TV on, would that be inconsiderate because we’re supposed to be talking? Wouldn’t it be weirder if he came in here and I was staring at the wall?

One of the most frustrating things about my anxiety is that it doesn’t only focus on worrying about my public image, but it makes me overthink every tiny social situation.

Over the years, I’ve learned to fake it at sponsorship parties, galas, press conferences, and things like that, but this? Socially, one-on-one, I’m still too uncomfortable to be myself around people I don’t know well.

Brady was able to get me to open up quickly, and that’s why I’m going to ask Damon for Brady to be my agent going forward. I’m currently signed with a guy named Merek, and while I like him enough—he has gotten me amazing endorsement deals and an okay-ish first-time MLB contract—he’s all business. That’s why I asked for Damon to be at my coming out photoshoot instead of Merek. Damon and Brady have that same aura of acceptance around them, and it’s easy to talk to them.

Thad has been anything but easy to talk to so far, so I’m in that overthinking, elevated state that makes me tongue-tied and hesitant.

In fact, I overthink this situation so much that by the time Thad comes back into the living room with our drinks, I flinch at his appearance.

Smooth, Kelley. Real smooth.

“Okay, so while I was waiting for these to heat up, I read your file. Finally,” he starts and throws himself into the armchair.

The shame I often feel over my mental struggles is like a weighted blanket. Those things are supposed to make you feel safe, but mine only makes it feel like it’s forcing me to stay in one place and restrict my movement. It’s one of those things that I know is irrational, and I shouldn’t feel shame, but I do. Because just like society still has issues with gay men, it also has issues with people with rocky mental health.

It’s one thing to say to myself that I feel like I’m going crazy, or my anxiety makes me batshit insane. It’s another for someone else to say it with judgment. And I would never say it about someone else. Which is why Thad’s attitude has gotten to me. I thought he was judging me for my diagnoses, but it turns out he didn’t even know about them. Until now.

“I want to explain my poor behavior,” he says. “But first up, I want to say I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel like your anxiety was ridiculous or over-the-top. I didn’t realize …” Now that he’s not wearing his beanie or gloves, that hand reaches for his head again, this time smoothing the hair on top of his head.

At least I’m not the only one with nervous habits.

He continues but doesn’t finish what he was going to say. “Has Brady told you anything about me? I don’t know why he would, but?—”

“He said you had an ugly breakup.”

He pulls back and looks like one of those adorable puppies who cock their head when they’re confused.

“With baseball,” I add.

“Ah.” He relaxes again. “Were you always gifted with baseball?”

“I had natural talent, yes, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t work for?—”

“I’m not saying that,” he says gently. “But I’ve always loved baseball, and yes, I had some of that natural talent as well. I worked my ass off, my parents spent their life savings on gear for me, on coaches, on everything, and then last year, during my final year of college, I thought I was heading for the big leagues. I had it in my head that I might not have been the best, but I was at least good enough . ”

I remember back to when I was being drafted. I was a shoo-in. Everyone said so. But there was still that voice telling me I might not make it. If I’d thought for sure I was getting in and then didn’t? I’d be heartbroken too.

“I’ve been kind of lost since then, and when I met you, you were coming off your amazing rookie year. You had endorsements, you had the stats, and from the outside, you had everything I wanted. And yet, all you would do is worry about your public image and hate that not everyone loved you.”

I go to interrupt him when he keeps talking.

“I thought it was an ego thing, not an anxiety thing. And granted, I should have read your file sooner, but to my heartbroken, angry, and bitter self, you were just?—”

“Being greedy.”

“I know that’s not actually what was happening now. You were self-sabotaging, and if you didn’t pick up on the countless snarky remarks I’ve said to you over the past few days, I know a thing or two about self-sabotage.”

I let his words sink in, let them settle over me. “You don’t want to be a sports agent, do you?”

The bitterness toward me now makes sense, but I don’t think he has an actual issue with me. I’m a mere trigger for a bigger problem.

Thad’s lips purse as he thinks about the answer. Like, really thinks about it. “I do. I really, really do. This was my backup plan, even though I thought I was too good to have one of those. And I do want to grow to become the best agent I can be, but my heartache over the loss of baseball has made it hard for me to sink into my role at King Sports. I’ve tried to shake it off, and with all the other clients I’ve been around, I haven’t had this … this …”

“Misplaced resentment?”

“Yes. That. For some reason, you bring out my bitter side more than the others.”

“Wow, I’m swimming in that compliment,” I say dryly.

“If you think about it, it is kind of a compliment.”

“You hating me is a compliment?”

“I don’t hate you. I wish … I wish I was you . Or had your baseball talent, at least. I resent you because I’m so goddamn jealous I can barely see straight.”

Okay, that does kind of make me happy. My lips must show it too.

“You don’t have to be that happy about it.” This time, his snark sounds playful. Thad has a playful side after all.

“I’m not happy you’re jealous. I’m happy you don’t hate me because my brain likes to convince me of worst-case scenarios, and there’s nothing I can really do about that.” The coping mechanisms and tools my therapist has given me over the years only work to a certain extent.

Thad leans forward in his seat. “I know I’m not your agent specifically, but at least I have one thing to thank you for.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ve made me see that if this is a career I really want, I need to start making the effort to be professional and not make assumptions about the athletes under my care. Oh, and also for not having called Damon already to get me fired. That’s a big thanks.”

“I wouldn’t have done that.”

“You should have.”

“No, I mean I couldn’t have done that. I don’t have a phone.”

Thad bursts out laughing in a way that only makes me smile.

“I’m glad you had the opportunity to explain why you hold a grudge against me,” I say. “After Brady told me that my file had all my health information, I was questioning how you got this job being a judgmental asshole, but I’m happy my hunch was right. You’re not an asshole.”

He holds up his thumb and forefinger close together. “I’m a bit of an asshole.”

“Okay, I relent.”

“Oh, and I had to twist your arm so much to do so.”

Now that the truth is out there, I’m able to relax into the light-heartedness of the moment. “What can I say? Your argument was very persuasive.”

He lifts his mug to his mouth with an amused smile. “Drink your cocoa before it gets cold.” He takes a large gulp .

If I thought Thad was hot while scowling at me, it’s nothing compared to when he smiles in my direction.

I sip my drink but keep staring at him over the rim of the mug. Something crackles between us. A vibe. Something. Or maybe the minuscule nicety he’s shown makes me think there’s a spark between us.

Thad averts his gaze first and stares down at his cup before raising it to take another gulp.

“So, two partners is a fantasy of yours?” I ask.

He sprays hot milk all over the place.

Now that he’s not so surly, I’m thinking Thad … uh … don’t know his last name could be fun to hang out with.

“I can’t believe you asked that,” he says, trying to wipe up the brown milk stains off the coffee table with the bottom of his shirt.

“You’re the one who said Brady was lucky. I figure now that we’re not sniping at each other, the least we could do is talk about it.”

“Aren’t you supposed to have social anxiety that would prevent you from asking such things?”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong. With some people, sure, I have anxiety over conversations we might have. And up until about ten minutes ago, you were on that list.”

“And now?”

I shrug. “You’ve shown me a vulnerable side, and what can I say. My anxiety is a sucker for a sap with a broken heart.”

While I’m telling the truth—that Thad opening up to me has helped drop my guard—it’s still not like how it is with Brady or Damon, probably because I see them in a professional light. With Thad? Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever see him that way.

My heart still thuds loudly in my ears around him, but it’s no longer from worry that he’s going to say something assholish. Somehow, when that angry mask came off, it showed me the truth of who he is.

Someone who’s grieving and lost.

And for some godforsaken reason, I have the urge to fix him.

It should also say in my file: has a penchant to run toward red flags.

I wouldn’t question it.