He paces around the room, hands on his hips, still covered in sweat and filth from practice. He keeps running his hands through his hair before finally clasping them together and resting them on the top of his head. He keeps fidgeting as he walks.
"Do ye know what that's like?" he finally says. "Standing in the locker room in the middle of all my teammates. Teammates who have all fucked my girlfriend?"
I reel back like I've been slapped. I knew he was upset when I let him in. Just the fact that he was still in his practice clothes was an indicator he had left early for some reason. But I never imagined it had anything to do with me. And I never, ever imagined this topic would be coming up again. He's been the first one to say my past didn't matter. He was the one who said it made me who I am and he liked who I am. Apparently he lied.