Page 44 of Built To Perform

Shaking my head, I pushed past him and grabbed for my door. Barely able to breathe until it was firmly shut behind me.

I slumped down to the floor, clutching my bag to my chest, and tried not to hyperventilate.

I could feel the knock more than I could hear it, the sound dulled by the blood rushing in my ears. Asher’s voice distant, too; his “Eoin, are you okay?” blending into the texture of my growing panic.

I’d fucked up. I’d fucked up so very, very badly.

The scale of it, the sheer magnitude, rushing in at me from all sides. Like plate tectonics, but a million times faster. Towering walls closing in around me, until all I could see was sheer rock face with not even the faintest toe-hold with which I might climb out.

“You’re done,” Coach had said. His words on a loop in my brain, echoing. Not angry, or frustrated, or even disappointed any more. The tone you use when something is settled, when there’s nothing more to be discussed. A line drawn under a sorry situation.

I was off the team, that much was clear. The fact that something so monumental could be said so simply was still too much for me to process. Awareness enough, though, to recognize that no team meant no sports scholarship, and no scholarship meant no financial support. My parents had been blunt that they couldn’t afford to send me to out-of-state college without that.

So, off the team and out of school, then.

Everything I’d worked for, everything I’d focused on and sacrificed to achieve. And on top of that - I felt the first tears, fat and warm, hit my bare arms - it meant goodbye to my teammates, too. The family I’d never known was out there; that’d taught me I could appreciate and celebrate my progress, even if I wasn’t at the end goal I’d set for myself.

Well, I was at the end now, anyway. Only it wasn’t graduation, and a career as a sportsman, and Jefferson, Brayden, Carlos and the others cheering me on from the sidelines. No, it was letting each and every one of them down, and Coach, and my parents.

And myself.

I buried my face in my arms and hoped the sound of my sobbing wouldn’t make it through the door.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Eoin?”

Long, stretching seconds, as my brain was dredged back into my skull. Seconds more, before I recognized the voice as my roommate speaking.

“Eoin, can you let me in? Something’s blocking the door.”

I wanted to tell him no, that movement was beyond me. That my body had ossified, bones fused, muscles set hard. A lump, now, mindless on the cheap carpet tiles.

Only I knew that Adam didn’t deserve to suffer, just because I’d made mistakes.

Slowly - stiff limbs protesting - I pulled myself up. Thumbed the catch, so that he could push open the door.

By the time it’d clicked closed again, I’d hidden my face in my pillow. Felt the thin mattress shift as he sat down on the edge.

“Asher messaged me. He said you... well, he said it seemed like something was wrong. He was worried you might be getting sick.”

I’d promised Asher I’d give him workout tips, help him in the gym, I remembered. Another person I’d managed to let down.

Adam’s hand on my arm was gentle. Tentative, even.

“Are you not feeling well?”

He’d have to find a new roommate. Well, assuming such a thing was possible at this point in the semester.

“Eoin, I need you to talk to me, okay?”

He’d been so nervous, those first few weeks. When we’d been total strangers suddenly thrust together in a tiny room, and seemingly with nothing in common. Looking back, I couldn’t exactly blame him for being wary of me for that reason. The memory of his relief when he realized he could safely tell me he was gay, the way the tension had visibly melted from his body, still had the power to choke me up. Now, he might have to go through all that again.

“Eoin!”

The sharpness landed like a slap, even though I could hear it was worry rather than anger that propelled it.

“I... I’m not sick,” I told him, my voice muffled.