Page 121 of Gamebreaker

I told her. Not every detail, but enough. The night. The morning. Harper's tender understanding, which somehow hurt worse than anger would have. The way she'd made me stay inside while she left.

"She's right," I said when I finished. "About all of it. We were perfect together, Trish. I've never had sex like that. Never been able to be that much myself with anyone. I could be in control, and she trusted me with it, completely, and she still pushed back. She still took care of me. It was exactly what I've always wanted."

"Then why did you let her go?"

"Because I'm terrified." The admission felt like a loss in the box score. "I'm scared of losing my endorsements. My privacy. My control over my own story. I'm scared of becoming that gay basketball player instead of that great basketball player. I'm scared of..."

"Of being happy?"

"Of losing what I've worked for."

"Cam." Trish's voice was gentle and firm. "What did you lose this morning? When you let Harper walk out that door?"

I closed my eyes and felt the ache in my chest open into a chasm.

"Everything that mattered."

There. I'd said it. I'd finally admitted what she meant to me, out loud, to someone who wasn't a ceiling.

"Then maybe it's time to figure out what you're more afraid of," Trish said quietly. "Coming out, or losing the only person who's ever made you feel like you could be yourself around her."

After we hung up, I lay down on my freshly made bed and stared at the ceiling.

My phone buzzed.

Harper

For what it's worth, I don't regret last night. Not one second of it. Take care of yourself, Cam.

I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. I wanted to beg her to reconsider. I wanted to promise I'd change. I wanted to tell her I was already falling for her, that I'd already fallen, that I was in too deep, already so gone for her smile and her eyes and her terrible jokes and her wild hair that I wasn't sure how I'd function without her. I wanted to promise her the world. That's what she deserved.

But I couldn't promise that.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Cam

I don't regret it either. You were everything. I'm sorry I couldn't be what you needed.

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.

Harper

You were exactly what I needed. For one perfect night, you were everything to me too. I just need you to be it in daylight too.

I read it four times. In daylight. As if she'd known exactly where I'd been standing when she left. Behind glass. In my house. Out of the light.

Cam

I know. I'm sorry.

Harper

Me too.

I set the phone face down on the comforter and tried to remember how to breathe around the pain in my chest.