SKINTIGHT (Part 1)

Chapter 2

Rio

A thin fog forms between my lips, evaporating into the air with each breath I take. The fire is long gone — our one source of heat leaving the party before the rest of us. It's fucking freezing out here. But we haven't moved. We've been sitting around the burnt-out firepit as if the flames are still there. We must've made it to midnight by now. The only light is coming from the house. It's as busy in there as it is out here. I don't know why. Nothing exciting is happening. We're barely even talking about anything. No one's in the mood to party. The whole team is down. We fucked up our game big time. And yet, no one is ready to go home.

I am. I've been ready for hours now. I didn't want to come here in the first place; maybe for an hour or two but no more. It's been at least five now. I don't mind too much. It's not like I have anything better to do. I don't even have anywhere else to be. I'd rather be working right now. At least then I'd have something to show for it. Really what we should be doing, is training. We should be on the court, running drills or at least chatting about what went wrong, instead of us all mulling it over on our own.

Now I'm just wasting time and energy, and I'm not even enjoying myself. But Mason is, and I'm his ride. Maybe I should just go. By the looks of things, he may not need a ride. At least not from me. He's deep in conversation and has been for the past hour or so. He and Isaiah Washington are completely lost in their own world. They're on the outskirts of the group, hiding their relationship in plain sight.

They can't be seen in private. They're not stupid enough to risk it.

They only began dating recently. I don't even think they're official yet. Mason likes him, though. It was obvious from the second they met. Mason would always get real tense around him. He wouldn't act like himself. He'd avoid Isaiah as much as possible, only speaking with him when he absolutely had to. Of course, he didn't have a choice when he became captain. That only made things worse for him. If word got out that Mason and Isaiah were together... the team would fall apart; and more importantly, Mason's life.

Mason is yet to come out to anyone but me and Isaiah. He won't do it until his future is secure — until his position in the NBA is guaranteed and solidified. He doesn't trust that it won't impact his recruitment. He can't afford to risk it. And I don't blame him. Being black already makes him a target out on the streets; being gay just puts him further down the totem pole. At least an NBA cheque can get him some security. Isaiah's already got it — that safety blanket of wealth. No one's going to target him. Not on the team.

"I'm so fucking dead, man," Shaun's carping voice meets my ears. "Coach was riding my ass all practice. I show up one minute late and this asshole has me running laps all afternoon."

"You can't be serious, bro," I snicker. "You spent the entire game bitching about being benched, and that's what you think he's mad at you for?"

"Hey, I wasn't bitching! And he shouldn't have benched me to begin with."

"You dribbled the ball on your foot like a fucking rookie," I add. "He should've kicked your ass off the team."

"Come on, dude," he shakes his head. "I had one bad day!"

"You were high."

"So what?" he rolls his eyes. "We've all played high before."

I sure as shit haven't.

"Not in a playoff game," Mason retorts, overhearing the conversation. "Don't you want to get to the final?"

"Sure I do, but at what fucking cost, you know? At least the two of you have a chance of making a career out of this. For the rest of us, we're just waiting to be injured at this point."