college football season and my face is in the top right corner of the screen. “Fuck,” Leo says, and changes the channel. “Let’s get you in bed.” He pushes me towards the bed, and I fall in.
“This is your fault,” I say. “This is all your fault. I told you we had to be careful. But you didn’t listen.”
“You don’t mean that,” he says, and hands me a white pill from an orange bottle.
“Now you’re trying to drug me?”
“It’s a Xanax. You need it.” Leo puts my hand to my mouth and I swallow it. He takes my clothes off for me and then lays down next to me, stroking my hair and cooing to me. “It’s okay,” he says. “We will solve this.” Leo’s room seems to get warmer, and as it does, my head becomes heavier. Leo’s fingers trace around my neck and ears, making my skin tingle. The pictures will leak. I’m fucked.
Leo wakes me up with a coffee. There are a few seconds where I entirely forget that there are pictures of my naked body floating around and possibly being leaked to the press at this very moment. “I need to leave,” I say.
“What?” Leo asks, “Don’t you want to be with me?”
“This problem is bigger than us,” I say.
“That feels like total shit to hear,” he says.
“It’s my life that we’re talking about.”
“And don’t I fit into your life?”
“You do but—”
“But what?” he asks, and crosses his arms.
“I’ve just got to go, okay?” I say, and leave his flat, wishing I were still asleep, or perhaps, still under the effects of that Xanax, feeling Leo’s lovely fingers trace across my head.
* * *
I ride the train out of Penn Station. I’ve got work this afternoon, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to look anyone in the face. It’s not that I feel ashamed; it’s just that everyone else will expect me to feel ashamed and it sucks. I used to love riding into Cold Spring—when the buildings start disappearing and the countryside slowly takes over the view. Now I just have thoughts of riding away from Leo.
I call up the university administration and tell them that I need to meet with our PR guy. They sound worried on the phone and ask what it is regarding. I lie and say it’s for a standing appointment. I’ll go and see him after practice. I don’t know what will happen, but there’s one thing I know for sure... With all these celebrity leaks, if there are naked pictures out there, they always end up in the worst hands.
* * *
Practice starts as I arrive. On my way in, I spot two sports reporters trying to take pictures of me and my players as we all arrive. This is supposed to be our best year yet; that’s why they’re here. We’ve got the right talent and the coaches to really do something special. My mind is elsewhere, with Leo and the photos. Some of my scouts have reports for me, and I go over some strategies with our starting team. As hard as I try, I can’t fucking focus. “Come on, Jackson,” I call out and clap at my quarterback.
I stand on the sidelines and watch the assistant coaches take the offensive lineup through some drills. Our first match is in a week. I check my phone to see if I have anything from Leo but there’s nothing. I think about texting him and then catch myself. I’m furious at him, why should I reach out and speak to him? I yell out to some players who are slacking at the back of the pack. I’ve been into football for as long as I can remember, and now there’s something that could take this all away. Will the university back me up?
* * *
The administration building is so quiet. Some of the walls are made up of rough carpet, and I run my fingers along them on the way to my meeting. I knock on the guy’s door and enter.
“Hi there,” I say, and shake his hand. He’s overweight and balding a little. The smile he gives me is wide and fake.
“I'm Trevor. Now, what can I do for you?” he asks and motions for me to sit down.
“There might be a personal
“This is your fault,” I say. “This is all your fault. I told you we had to be careful. But you didn’t listen.”
“You don’t mean that,” he says, and hands me a white pill from an orange bottle.
“Now you’re trying to drug me?”
“It’s a Xanax. You need it.” Leo puts my hand to my mouth and I swallow it. He takes my clothes off for me and then lays down next to me, stroking my hair and cooing to me. “It’s okay,” he says. “We will solve this.” Leo’s room seems to get warmer, and as it does, my head becomes heavier. Leo’s fingers trace around my neck and ears, making my skin tingle. The pictures will leak. I’m fucked.
Leo wakes me up with a coffee. There are a few seconds where I entirely forget that there are pictures of my naked body floating around and possibly being leaked to the press at this very moment. “I need to leave,” I say.
“What?” Leo asks, “Don’t you want to be with me?”
“This problem is bigger than us,” I say.
“That feels like total shit to hear,” he says.
“It’s my life that we’re talking about.”
“And don’t I fit into your life?”
“You do but—”
“But what?” he asks, and crosses his arms.
“I’ve just got to go, okay?” I say, and leave his flat, wishing I were still asleep, or perhaps, still under the effects of that Xanax, feeling Leo’s lovely fingers trace across my head.
* * *
I ride the train out of Penn Station. I’ve got work this afternoon, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to look anyone in the face. It’s not that I feel ashamed; it’s just that everyone else will expect me to feel ashamed and it sucks. I used to love riding into Cold Spring—when the buildings start disappearing and the countryside slowly takes over the view. Now I just have thoughts of riding away from Leo.
I call up the university administration and tell them that I need to meet with our PR guy. They sound worried on the phone and ask what it is regarding. I lie and say it’s for a standing appointment. I’ll go and see him after practice. I don’t know what will happen, but there’s one thing I know for sure... With all these celebrity leaks, if there are naked pictures out there, they always end up in the worst hands.
* * *
Practice starts as I arrive. On my way in, I spot two sports reporters trying to take pictures of me and my players as we all arrive. This is supposed to be our best year yet; that’s why they’re here. We’ve got the right talent and the coaches to really do something special. My mind is elsewhere, with Leo and the photos. Some of my scouts have reports for me, and I go over some strategies with our starting team. As hard as I try, I can’t fucking focus. “Come on, Jackson,” I call out and clap at my quarterback.
I stand on the sidelines and watch the assistant coaches take the offensive lineup through some drills. Our first match is in a week. I check my phone to see if I have anything from Leo but there’s nothing. I think about texting him and then catch myself. I’m furious at him, why should I reach out and speak to him? I yell out to some players who are slacking at the back of the pack. I’ve been into football for as long as I can remember, and now there’s something that could take this all away. Will the university back me up?
* * *
The administration building is so quiet. Some of the walls are made up of rough carpet, and I run my fingers along them on the way to my meeting. I knock on the guy’s door and enter.
“Hi there,” I say, and shake his hand. He’s overweight and balding a little. The smile he gives me is wide and fake.
“I'm Trevor. Now, what can I do for you?” he asks and motions for me to sit down.
“There might be a personal
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