“Hit the showers!” Krake yells before I’ve finished all my push-ups. I’m only at thirty-six. I am never going to making it to one-hundred. 

I stand, all wobbly, arms shaking, black spots dotting my vision, and limp back with the team. A stream of tired wrestlers exits the room. 

“Not you,” Krake shouts. “You don’t shower with my wrestlers.”

“But you said—”

“Quiet!” he yells. “I’m not gonna let you take peeps at my boys.”

What the hell am I?

“What do you want me to do?” My body shakes when I speak. I should quit. I should walk right out of here and never look back. But if I do that, then they’ll all know.

Know what?

“Mateo, you wait here,” Krake continues. The rest of the team has left. “This school may have its bend-over backward to diversity bullshit,” Krake says, “but I won’t allow it on my wrestling mat.”

Krake glares at me, and my stomach turns into a knot. I catch Mateo’s wide, warm eyes—is that sympathy? Will he stand up for me?

“Mateo, you know what to do,” Krake commands.

“Yes, Coach.”

Coach blows the whistle.

“What is—?”

I’m not able to finish my question. Mateo grabs me and throws me like before. My body slaps against the mat like a whip.

“Get up!” Krake yells. “Again.”

I stand, digging my feet into the mat to keep my knees from buckling. It doesn’t matter. I don’t stand long, as Mat tosses me again.

“Ninety-eight more times.” Krake cocks his head toward Mateo. “Throw him until his abnormal desires are destroyed. We’re doing you a favor, kid.” An icy smile covers his face. He believes what he says. 

How can anyone be so cruel? 

“You can’t— ow!” I cry, when Mateo tosses me. I can’t find the strength to stand any more, but he pulls me up every time and whips me down again. 

“Good.” Krake’s grin lingers, and I want to punch him. I’ve never thought that way about another adult in my life, but I want to punch him in the mouth! “I’ll leave you to it, Mateo. Not one throw less than one-hundred.” Coach laughs and walks away.

“Please!” I beg Mateo. “No more.” I rub my stiff neck.

“Man, you got off on the wrong foot with Coach,” he tells me. He relaxes, his shoulders dropping.

“It just . . . ugh! It just happened! It didn’t mean anything!” I defend. It’s the truth. Isn’t it? My temples pulse, and I close my eyes. 

Mateo puts his hand on the back of my neck, but now that Coach Asshole is out of the room, he’s much gentler about it. “Dude, I’ve been wrestling my entire life. It happens. I know.” He cracks a subtle smile.

Relief washes over me. Thank God someone understands. 

“Coach is hard,” he continues, his voice a little deeper. “But he’ll make you tough. We’re the best team in the state for a reason, you know.”

“I’m quitting,” I say. His arm remains around my neck, but he doesn’t throw me. It’s almost like a hug, and I welcome it—anything but another throw. 

“After one day?” he asks.

I take a deep breath. Mateo isn’t nearly as sweaty or gross as me, and I can still smell his cologne. Clearing my throat, I try not to get distracted. God, if I got another boner right now—I blink and swallow hard. “Why should I put up with this?”

“Why are you here in the first place?” Mateo asks. He lets go of me. His eyes move up and down, examining me.

I’d answer, but my brain feels like a broken puzzle.

“Here. Sit down for a minute and chill.” He leads me to a rolled-up mat and waits for my answer.

I consider telling him my goals to get stronger. But that would reinforce his defense about Krake being the best. “I dunno,” I say instead, taking a seat next to him. “I just wanted to fit in somewhere. Clearly, I don’t fit in here.”

Mat shakes his head, his thick, beautiful hair bouncing. “No. Today you have the chance to prove yourself. You come back tomorrow, and you earn respect. With the team. With Coach. Quit, and they’ll never respect you,” he says. 

“Is Krake always this mean?” I ask. My gaze sweeps the wrestling room, making sure we’re alone. The door is closed shut. Black mats fill the room. White walls covered with motivational posters surround us. 

Mateo laughs, and even his giggle is attractive. His mouth opens, revealing perfect white teeth. I catch myself smiling even though I don’t feel happy. “Yeah. But like I said, it makes you tough. Seriously, dude. I’m not here because I like touching half-naked guys.” My eyes fix on Mateo’s chest, as one of the singlet’s straps falls down his shoulder. I look away quickly. That’s the stuff that will get me in trouble again. “I’m here,” he continues, “because I know if I work my ass off over for the next four years, I’ll get a full scholarship to any college I want. Krake can do that for you.”

“But he’s a jerk,” I say, keeping my eyes down.

“He doesn’t care what color you are. But he is a little, well, homophobic, I guess.” My eyebrows raise at his word choice. “Aiden, are you . . . no, never mind.”

My heart beats like a machine gun. I know what he was going to ask, and I’m glad he didn’t. 

I know the answer. Of course, I do. But I’m not even ready to say it to myself, let alone out loud to someone I barely know. 

Mat stands and offers me his hand. I take it, and he pulls me up. His touch is magnetic—there’s a strength even in his grip. “We’ve got a few more throws to do,” he says gently.

“Oh, please. Please no,” I beg.

“Coach’s orders. You don’t get tough by disobeying Coach. You get stronger.” He puts a hand behind my neck and another on my elbow. He’s gentler about it, though. 

When we finally finish—after more throws than I could count—Mateo tells me, “Just think. A month of training like that—no throw is ever gonna hurt you.”

I’d nod, but I can’t move my neck.

“Will you come back tomorrow?” he asks.

I want to quit, but his gorgeous brown eyes drown out all logic. Looking at him takes away some of the pain, like my body numbs. I’ve never had this feeling before. I don’t know if I like it. I mean—I love it. But I don’t know if I can trust my body or the words that may come out of my mouth. 

I swallow hard, burying those thoughts. “Yeah, I’ll come back.”

“Good,” he says. “That’s how you earn respect. See you tomorrow.”

He slaps me on the butt on the way out. I look down to make sure I don’t show any visible signs of excitement. Although everything hurts, a small smile stretches across my face.