Micah Johnson Goes West (Get Out, #2)(10)

“Who knows? They have their reasons, and they’re probably right. I was shitting myself at the thought of maybe starting this week.”

Daril snorted, opening his locker. “I’m going to have to take some Imodium on game day so I don’t.”

They both burst into giggles, and quickly hushed each other.

“I’m really glad you’re playing,” Micah said.

“I can’t wait until we both play.” Daril held up his hand for a high five.

Micah slapped it, and their hands clenched as one. “Us tokens have gotta stick together.”

“You said it, mate.”

Micah kept the smile on his face, even though it was torture.




MICAH’S BODY was aching almost as much as his heart when training came to an end. He was limping off the field when Daril yelled across to him. “Hey, Micah! Someone asking especially for you!”

The other guys couldn’t help but glance over interestedly, wanting to know who was singling Micah out for the first time. They had their usual groupies, who turned up regularly, and gobsmacked hero-worshipping teenage boys who hung on their every word and thrust out team merchandise for them to sign, but always managed to slink away if Micah was in the group with them and it was his turn to sign. None of the guys ever said anything about it, but one day Micah had seen Sam approach a small group and have a heated exchange. Although Micah had asked him what it was about when Sam jogged back to them, he evaded the question and immediately moved on to another group who wanted his attention.

Was it Micah’s very first gay groupie? He grinned to himself as he walked over to Daril, who was signing a football.

His heart sank a little when he saw the young kid beaming up at him. He looked all of about ten, and Micah could just imagine the ribbing he might get, no matter how lighthearted, from the other guys.

“Hi,” Micah said, leaning over the railing to bring himself down a little to the kid’s size. “I’m Micah.”

“I know who you are!” the kid gushed.

The woman standing next to him, obviously his mother, grinned. “Maybe you should tell him your name, honey.”

“Oh! I’m Carter.”

“He’s your biggest fan,” Carter’s mum added.

Out of the corner of his eye, Micah could see Daril laughing to himself as he moved on to his next fan.

“I think you might be my only fan, so you’re definitely number one,” Micah told him.

“The kids at school make fun of me for liking you,” Carter said matter-of-factly. “But they also make fun of me because I’m gay too.”

Micah was sure his eyes were bugging out of his head like Daffy Duck seeing a train coming towards him, but he replied just as evenly, “You’re out at school? How old are you?”

“Thirteen.”

Carter looked thirteen like Micah looked sixty. “Wow, that’s really brave of you. I couldn’t imagine being out at thirteen.”

“You weren’t much older,” Carter pointed out.

“I was sixteen. Almost seventeen.” Fuck, that seemed so long ago. “And I was outed.”

He remembered Dec once saying to him that he could never have imagined being out at high school, but it showed times were changing when people like Micah and Emma were out at a younger age, and now Micah was seeing the same thing already. It didn’t mean things were blissful for those who were queer, but at least they were progressing. He just hoped Carter wasn’t finding it as difficult as Micah had.

“There are idiots,” Carter admitted. “But I’ve got some good friends.”

“That’s all you need.”

“Plus people like you,” Carter’s mum said. “You’re such a great role model.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” Micah was sure he was blushing. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”

She shrugged. “Who doesn’t?”

“Are there any other gay players?” Carter asked. “You can’t be the only one.”

“Carter!” his mum cried, but he looked unabashed.

Micah didn’t even know how he could field this one. “I’m sure there are. But I haven’t met any of them. They have to choose their own time to come out, just like you did.”

Carter nodded, then turned around excitedly. “Look at this!”

On the back of his guernsey was Micah’s number, and the name “JOHNSON” stitched across the back.

Micah almost lost it there and then. All he could say was “wow.”

“He had it custom made online,” his mum said.

“When are you going to get your own poster?” Carter demanded. “A lot of the other players do.”

“They’re the superstars, mate. Maybe one day.”

“I know you’ll get one. Just wait and see.”

He wished he had his greatest fan’s confidence, but it was nice to dream. He signed Carter’s poster of the whole team, and his football, and told him genuinely how nice it was to meet him.

“I’m sure you’ll see us again,” his mum told Micah, with a long-suffering grin.

As Carter ran off to get the captain’s autograph, yelling over his shoulder, “Don’t worry! You’re still the best!” in case his feelings were hurt, Carter’s mum stuck out her hand.