Matched By My Rival

Thrust Into Love #2

DJ Jamison

Contents

Book Blurb

KDP Edition License Notes

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Epilogue

Thank You For Reading!

About the Author

Books by DJ Jamison

MATCHED

By My Rival

Thrust into Love #2

Copyright 2021 DJ Jamison

Published by DJ Jamison

Cover design by Cate Ashwood Designs

Vellum flower icon Created with Vellum

Book Blurb

Simon Prentiss: ex-football star, bitter rival, and...falling for the enemy? 

I hate my teammate, Parker Reed.

I hate that he makes me work so hard for my position on the field. 

Hate how he always smiles. How easily he shows me up when I'm injured.

Most of all, I hate that he made me lose my temper.

Next thing I know, football is gone.

My scholarship is gone.

I'm nearly gone, too.

With help, I manage to stay in school for my final semester.

At least without football, I can explore a new side to myself.

See where my attraction to guys takes me without fear of it affecting my future. 

I didn't see it coming. The cosmic joke.

The sweet, patient guy on the hookup app?

The one who makes me burn with the desire to have him?

Yeah, it's Parker.

Our chemistry is off the charts, no matter how much I resent him.

Holding a grudge against him is impossible.

But when he wants to walk away from everything I lost, can I accept it?

If I don't, I'll lose him too--and that can't happen.

Because I don't hate Parker Reed.

I think I love him.

Matched By My Rival is an enemies-to-lovers, jock rivals romance. It's Book 2 of the Thrust Into Love series but can be read as a standalone.

KDP Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return Amazon.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content suitable for mature readers.

Prologue

SIMON

September

I watched other people party from the saggy sofa where I was stationed, my leg elevated on a flimsy coffee table after another injury. A pulled hamstring this time. I wore a compression wrap around my thigh.

Could have been worse.

That was the phrase my friends and teammates kept repeating. They were right. It could have been much worse. I’d once seen a player get a spiral fracture. That was shudder-inducing agony that could not be unseen.

I raised my plastic cup and finished the last swallow of beer, then looked around for someone to get me another. I’d stubbornly walked a block to attend the party, with the aid of much hated crutches, despite feeling like crap. Darnell caught my eye and gave me a thumbs-up. The linebacker was a good guy. He liked to look out for his boys. That meant I wouldn’t be thirsty for long. Good. I needed to shut down the shitstorm kicking up in my brain.

My hamstring would take a few weeks to heal, a few weeks of playing time during my senior year that I didn’t want to give up. But more than that, it gave Parker Reed another opportunity to step up his game. Another chance for the coaching staff to question whether Parker should be their number one receiver. Another chance for them to reconsider my scholarship, one of the largest they allocated and still not enough to cover all expenses. They had to spread their money around and rarely gave out full rides.

The injury could have been worse, but it wasn’t the first. I’d been injured twice my junior season, a concussion and later an ACL strain that had scared the shit out of me. If it had torn, I would have been out for an entire year. I’d have needed surgery my family couldn’t afford.

Getting hurt was becoming a pattern. One the coaching staff hadn’t missed.

I needed to impress them, not sit on the sidelines like a lump while Parker gloated about the caught passes and touchdowns that should have been mine.

He loved taunting me too.

Think I can break your record tonight, Prentiss?

Think the coaches will figure out who the better player really is?

Watch out, Prentiss, your face might get stuck that way.

Always with a goddamn, shit-eating smile. And why not? Parker was happy to step into the limelight. My misfortune was his gain.

It was a reality all players dealt with—the idea that the second you weren’t the best, someone would step in to fill your shoes. But that it was Parker was extra infuriating. He was one of those golden boys: the money, the talent, the easy smiles. He didn’t take football seriously. He didn’t put in the work. He just ran out onto the field and played.

The fucker.

He always had this ridiculous grin on his face. His eyes fucking twinkled like he was laughing at some joke only he knew. It grated on my nerves—even before I started to worry about my position with the team, about retaining my scholarship.

I needed that funding. My whole family did.

Darnell Davidson dropped down beside me, his heavy weight making the cushion sink as he handed me a fresh beer. “How’s it goin’?”

“How do you think?” I grumbled, tipping back the cup for a big gulp. “Shitty.”

Darnell jostled me. “Ah, come on. You’re at a party. You can use this leg to score sympathy points with any fine female you want. The wounded warrior.” He laughed. “Shit, I almost envy you.”

“Bullshit,” I said. “You don’t need to be on crutches to pick up hot girls.”

He grinned, his strong jaw, full lips, and dark eyes enough to make anyone look twice, not to mention his broad-shouldered, muscular build. A lot of linebackers were big men, but not everyone had Darnell’s charisma. “I guess not everyone can be a player like me,” he said, puffing up with pride.

“Besides, I have a girlfriend,” I reminded him. “Kristin?”

“Ah yeah. I thought that was over?”

I shrugged and chugged the rest of my beer. I didn’t want to talk about Kristin and whatever the fuck was going on with us. We’d been on a roller coaster of ups and downs lately, but she was a sweetheart who deserved better. Maybe I’d call her later, try to set things right. I’d been an angry asshole ever since this injury took me out of the game.

“Whatever.” I waggled my empty cup. “Can you get me another?”

“Asking the black man to wait on you, huh? Real nice, Prentiss.”

I grimaced, gaze sweeping the room. “Fair point. Lemme call over one of these white boys.”

He laughed. “I’m just shittin’ ya.” He shifted his weight forward, as if to stand, then paused. “Wait. Aren’t you still on painkillers?”

“So?”

“You’re not supposed to mix that shit with alcohol.”

I scoffed. “This beer is so watered down it hardly qualifies.”

“Simon…”

Fuck, he was going mother hen on me. “I’ll just get it myself then. I’m not helpless.”

I pushed myself up from the sofa, using my crutches, and the room spun. I swayed, catching myself on Darnell’s big bicep. “Just a head rush,” I mumbled. “Point me toward the keg.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He turned me toward the front door. “Time to get some air. “

I didn’t fight him as he cleared a path and made sure I stayed on my feet until we were in the front yard. My mind cleared as I sucked in cool drafts of air—and I realized I needed to get out of there. The way I was feeling, I’d say or do something I’d regret in the morning. And I had enough regrets as it was.

Why had I even gone out? What had I been trying to prove? That an injury couldn’t put me off my game? It already had.

“Gonna go,” I mumbled. “This party sucks.”

“Yeah, man. Things will look better tomorrow. You’ll see.”

That was Darnell, always the optimist. He was the heart of our team. Coach would never dump him for a string of injuries. He was too good for morale. Unlike me, the guy known for being broody and too damn competitive to really bond with many players. D was my boy, but that was more to his credit than mine. I was lucky he’d decided to make me a friend.

I turned toward the sidewalk. We were on Greek row, so my frat house wasn’t far. I’d be there within minutes, even drunk and on crutches. But what I saw stopped me cold. A guy and girl stood in the middle of the lawn, heads close, talking and laughing. I recognized them instantly.

Parker and Kristin.

Parker, my rival. And Kristin, my girlfriend.

As I watched, Kristin went up on her tiptoes and kissed him.

Oh, hell no.

No, no, no.

Wasn’t he taking enough from me as it was? What did he want, my entire fucking life on a silver platter? Probably. That’s how he rolled. Everything he wanted, easily offered up.

My fuse was short, easy to ignite. Fury swept through my veins, and I welcomed the feeling. It was better than the numb disappointment I’d been nursing for days.

I crossed the lawn, suddenly looming beside Parker and Kristin, without any memory of actually taking a step. “What the fuck is this, huh? You want to kick me while I’m down. Take my place on the field and my girlfriend?”

Parker lifted his hands. “Whoa, man, it’s not like that.”

“It looks just like that,” I snarled.

“Stop it, Simon,” Kristin said. “I can’t do this anymore with you. It’s over, okay?”

I shook my head. “We had a fight. We’ll make up.”

“Yeah, we had another fight. All we do is fight,” she said. “I want to move on. Find someone who’ll make me happy.”

I lifted one crutch, prodding Parker in the chest. “You think this asshole is better than me?”

“Knock it off.” Parker shoved the crutch away from his chest.

I staggered, off-balance, pain flashing through me and fueling my anger. Parker stepped forward as if to grab me. To catch me or shove me? Either one was a big fucking hell no.

“You think I’m weak?” I snarled as I dropped the crutch in my right hand. “You think you can fuck with me?”

“What?” He laughed. He actually laughed at me. “Don’t be—”

His words were lost in a wash of rage. I didn’t think. I didn’t make a conscious decision. I just snapped. One minute I was standing there watching Parker get his jollies from my pain, and the next I’d taken a swing.

My fist connected with his lower jaw—and the corner of that smart-ass mouth of his, splitting his lip. I used my other crutch to sweep his legs out from under him, and he hit the ground with a thud.

There was a chorus of gasps. We’d drawn a crowd.

“Simon!” Darnell bellowed, lunging forward to grab the crutch from me before I could do something like swing it at Parker’s head. I wouldn’t go that far, even as incensed as I was. I dropped, landing in an awkward sprawl over Parker and sending another pulse of pain through my thigh.

“I should fucking kill you,” I growled in his ear.

Parker let me get in his face, didn’t fight me at all. If someone had decked me, my reaction would be to punch them right back. So why wasn’t he swinging? Or at least shoving me the fuck off his body?

“Fight me, you fucker,” I said, grabbing his shirt and shaking him. His lip was bleeding, but he smiled through it. Did nothing faze him?

“Can’t fight,” he said, his pronunciation a bit garbled by the swelling lip. “Scholarship policy.”

It took a second for me to process his words. When I did, my blood ran cold.

There was a zero-tolerance clause for fighting. How had I forgotten, even for a second, what was at stake?

I needed that scholarship to finish school. That was half the reason these injuries had freaked me out so much. If the coaching staff decided to decrease mine, decided I hadn’t earned another semester, I was fucked. My dad had lost everything in his last big investment scheme. My mother worked as a waitress, barely making enough tips to cover her own bills. My grandparents covered what they could, but they had my sister, Chelsea, to think about. She wanted to go to culinary school, and that would not be cheap.

Darnell grabbed me under my arms, hauling me off Parker. But not before I saw the crowd that had gathered, the smartphones directed at us. There would be video of this, social media posts. But our coaches wouldn’t see it, would they? Not unless Parker decided to point it out. It was dark. Maybe we wouldn’t be recognizable in the footage? Only…how many guys were there in a compression wrap and on crutches?

Parker wouldn’t have to report me. I was fucked. Utterly and completely fucked.

“I messed up,” I groaned as Darnell half dragged me with one arm while carrying my crutches in the other.

“No shit, Prentiss. You can’t go off like that, especially on our best fucking wide receiver.”

That stung.

“Other than you,” he added, soothing my ego a little. “But you can’t fucking play right now, can you?”

“No.” I groaned, knowing I had no defense. I hadn’t been thinking straight, had been depressed and drunk—more out of it than usual thanks to the addition of painkillers—but none of that would save my ass. Coach would cut me loose. “Fuck!”

I almost missed the numbness I’d been feeling earlier in the night. It was better than the gutted, raw, guilty helplessness that descended on me as I realized the truth.

I’d feared losing my scholarship because of my string of injuries. Instead, I’d thrown it away in one drunken flash of temper. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy, I’d made my own fears come true.

1

SIMON

Five Months Later

Tracks, a little college dive bar with live music and drink specials, was hot and muggy from too many bodies crammed into a small space. Even behind the bar, with a few more inches between my body heat and the crowd of drunken twentysomethings, I was sweating enough that my T-shirt stuck to my back. On the stage to my left, a semi-decent band cranked out their tunes, but at least they were acoustic. On the nights band members hauled in electric guitars, I popped Tylenol like it was fucking candy. Tonight, the music was a quiet backdrop to the bar activity, drunken chatter and laughter that could still be headache-inducing.

“Well, shit. Of all fucking weeks.”

I glanced over. Rhett was frowning down at his phone as if it had just offended him. He tapped out a text, thumbs flying, then shook his head and repocketed it, murmuring something under his breath.

“Everything okay?” I asked as he slid behind me to grab a bottle of vodka, all business once more. The floor was sticky beneath my feet as I shifted to give him space.

“Something came up. My roommate needs my help Thursday night.” He shot me a grimace. “I’m scheduled to work a full shift, and I kind of need the hours, but…”

“Ah.” I continued to pull a beer, tilting the frosted mug to get the best head of foam. There was an art to it, I’d learned. Rhett had taught me, in fact, after I’d taken this job to help pay for school. It seemed fitting: Beer had gotten me into trouble—well, that and my temper—so it might as well help pay for school. “Well, if you need someone to cover, I could do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

I tried to work weekends only to maintain some semblance of a normal school week, but it wasn’t as if I couldn’t use the money.

After everything that happened—losing my scholarship, losing my place on the football team—I’d nearly left school. I hadn’t seen much of an alternative when the video of my altercation with Parker went viral, thanks to some blog called College Athletes Behaving Badly. But a lot of people had stepped up to help me. My frat had gone out on a limb to create a scholarship just for me, and my grandparents—despite my protests—had insisted I finish my degree on campus, rather than take a year off to save or try to transfer somewhere with lower tuition.

I’d only accepted their offer with the caveat that I repay every penny. My older sister needed money for culinary school, and like hell I was going to suck it all up. Chels had been waiting long enough, with an unexpected pregnancy putting her plans on hold. Joey was great, a real sweet kid who she’d nurtured up to school age before attempting to pursue career plans. But now it was her turn.

Rhett flashed a flirty smile as he slid a glass across the bar to a guy in a fitted button-down, skinny jeans, and fuck-me eyes.

The pretty boy slid a five into Rhett’s tip jar and sashayed away. Did Rhett realize he was gay and play up the smile for a tip—or was Rhett into men? I didn’t know, and I wasn’t asking. My gaze followed the swish of those hips for a beat too long before Rhett drew my attention back to him.

“Thanks, man,” he said. “I hate to miss work, but I don’t think he has anyone else he can count on.”

“No problem. I probably owe you for something anyway.” I plonked a beer mug onto the bar in front of a waiting customer and watched him walk off without tipping me. I really needed to work on remembering to smile.

I may have realized my temper had fucked me over royally, but that didn’t mean I’d become Mr. Sunshine either. Not sure I was capable of bringing down the walls I’d been building up since my dad had become the king of pyramid schemes and lost our house. Mom hadn’t lasted long in the marriage after that, and I couldn’t blame her.

Rhett grabbed a bottle of beer and handed it over, swiping up cash from the bar in one easy motion while he cocked an eyebrow at me. “That’s right. I did train your ass.” He paused. “In bartending, I mean.”

He winked, further muddying my read on his sexuality. Not that it mattered. I might have an interest in guys, which had been ramping up steadily now that I was out of football, but I wasn’t going to mess with a co-worker—even a guy as cute and fit as Rhett.

“Fair point. I guess it’s the least I can do,” I said with a mock sigh.

Rhett grinned. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

I snorted. “Something tells me you make sure everyone sees it your way.”

He chuckled as he slipped to the far end of the bar and leaned forward to take another order. Slim, with nice muscle tone, he was a far cry from most of the guys on the football team, but I’d lay money Rhett was athletic. A runner, maybe?

He glanced my way, and I redirected my eyes to the line forming in front of the bar. I had drinks to sling. The last thing I needed was to eye up my co-worker, especially one who was practically my supervisor. But it was past time I considered what I wanted to do with my attraction to men. Because if Rhett was tripping my trigger, I might finally be ready to explore—somewhere far away from work, that was. With someone anonymous, someone who I wouldn’t have to see again.

Someone…from a hookup app.

I glanced at the time. Only three more hours till last call.

Three hours, and then I could do something about the building need inside—even if it was only to scan some hot guy’s pics and jerk off alone. But who knew? Maybe I’d get up the courage to swipe right. Maybe I’d find the balls to finally flirt. Maybe I’d find someone with the patience to deal with a guy who didn’t know what he wanted yet.

My luck had to change, right? After everything I’d lost, I deserved something, some little silver lining—even if I had brought most of my misery down on myself.

* * *

PARKER

I ran long for a pass, beer sloshing over the rim of the cold can in my left hand. There were hoots of laughter as I spun to set the can on the ground and raised my hands. The ball went wide—by about a mile.

“For fuck’s sake,” I called.

“What? I’m not a QB!” Cruz shouted, right before tripping over his own feet and hitting the ground with a thud.

“Thank fuck for that!” Johnston crowed, laughing so hard he had to bend over.

Cruz and Johnston were linebackers, big guys more accustomed to knocking me on my ass than throwing me the ball, but we were just screwing around. It was the off season, so while we still had regular training, we weren’t playing games every week. We’d been guzzling beer like Gatorade, trash talking each other, and tossing the football around for the past hour.

It was nice to blow off steam and remember that football was fun, not just a crap ton of work. With the intense last season we’d had, I needed that.

There were a few onlookers—Cruz’s girlfriend, Johnston’s on-again, off-again hookup, and a few girls who’d probably like to snag one of us—along with one or two students who’d paused to watch for a few minutes and shake their heads before continuing across campus.

My phone vibrated in my back pocket. “Hold up, I got a call.”

“Let me guess. Brunette, starts with H and ends in T?”

Johnston looked between me and Cruz, forehead creased in confusion. “Harriet?”

“No, dipshit,” Cruz said, giving Johnston a shove that sent him stumbling a few clumsy steps. “Hot. H-O-T. Jesus fucking Christ!”

They started bickering like an old couple, and I tuned them out as I checked my phone.

Not a brunette, but my very blond mother.

She called now and then to check in, and I usually answered because I knew she was lonely in the house without me there. Dad worked a lot, and we’d always been close. She was a huge football fan, a booster for high school and collegiate sports, and had the coach’s ear—whether he wanted her to have it or not. Dad loved football too, but he traveled for work, so it was usually Mom in the stands, cheering until her voice was hoarse.

“Hey, Mama,” I answered warmly. “You’re up late tonight.”

She sniffed. “I’m forty-three, not seventy. I don’t eat dinner at four or go to bed at eight p.m.”

I snorted a laugh. “Good to know because it’s after eleven.”

She sighed. “I guess it is. I watched a sad movie, and I needed to hear your voice.”

“What were you watching?”

“Sophie’s Choice.”

“Ugh, Mom, why would you do that?” I didn’t understand people who watched depressing shit. Wasn’t the news bad enough? Mass shootings, black men being murdered by cops, riots in the streets—and my mother was watching Holocaust movies.

“I like history,” she protested. “If we don’t remember it—”

“We’re doomed to repeat it,” I echoed over her words, having heard this line one or two hundred times in my lifetime. “I know.”

“Besides, you don’t get to lecture me, mister. You’re still up, and you’re the one with a 6 a.m. drill. First one since break, isn’t it?”

I winced. “Shit.”

“Tell me you didn’t forget.”

“How could I?”

We’d been reminded in weight training this morning. I’d had it on my calendar alerts for weeks. I’d remembered when I met up to hang with Cruz and Johnston. After a few beers, though, it’d become a selective memory. One I’d happily forgotten in the name of a little fun.

Cruz and Johnston started trash talking one another, shoving and laughing. I waved my hand at them, trying to get them to shut up, but they were drunken idiots at this point.

“What’s going on there?” she asked, a thread of tension entering her voice. “Are you at a party?”

“It’s not a party,” I said. “I’m hanging with a few of the guys. We’re just—”

“Toss me another beer, bro!” Cruz yelled.

Fucking great.

“—blowing off steam,” I finished weakly. “It’s the off season.”

She sighed. “Honey, I know you’re young, and you want to have fun. I get it, but…”

“But Coach will be pissed if we show up hungover,” I grumbled. “I know.”

“He will,” she agreed. “More than that, you know how hard these transitions are. Going from time off, to weights, to running drills again. It’s going to be rough enough with plenty of sleep.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re right. I’m going to call it a night.”

She groaned. “Now I sound like one of those helicopter parents, hovering over you. I hate that. You’re smart, Parker, and the best damn wide receiver that team has got.”

Now, I thought. The best wide receiver now that Prentiss was gone.

But Mom was my number one fan, always had been. She’d never admit that Prentiss had an intensity and dedication to training that I’d never had. If he were still on the team, he sure as shit wouldn’t be out getting drunk and stupid the night before the first drill in weeks. Ugh. Tomorrow morning was going to be murder. My stomach churned just to think about it.

“You can make your own decisions,” she said. “I should butt out.”

“Thanks, but you’re not wrong. I’m going to be hurting in the morning.”

“Drink some water. Lots of it,” she said. “And take some Tylenol.”

“I will, Mama bear. Don’t worry.”

“Mama is my name, and worry is my game,” she said lightly. “I’m always rootin’ for ya.”

“I know. Night.”

“Night sweetie. And just so you know, if I’d ever had a Sophie’s choice, I’d definitely choose to keep you.”

“What about Scott?”

“Your brother doesn’t need to know about this, does he?” she joked.

Laughing, I clicked off the call and dodged the football flying at my head. “Watch it, fuckers!”

“Come on, man. Are we playing or not?”

I thought about it a minute. I’d needed this, even if the timing wasn’t ideal. This school year had been intense, with Prentiss getting cut from the team. Despite his injuries—and his temper—he was the better player of the two of us. He’d had a drive I’d never match. Nor did I want to.

I’d always loved playing football. Playing. It took a lot of work to be good, and I was okay with that work, as long as I continued to enjoy the game. But lately… Well, ever since the shit with Prentiss went down anyway, I’d been struggling to find the joy I’d once felt in stepping onto the field. Prentiss had been a fun challenge. He’d motivated me to do better. We’d had a competitive spirit, each trying to outdo the other, catch more passes, gain more yards.

He’d gotten the best routes, being the senior player and the one with the chops for deep runs. But I’d nipped at his heels, made him feel me breathing down his neck.

And that had been—fun.

For me anyway.

Simon was so serious it was tough to tell if he enjoyed the taunting and teasing or hated it. Then again, he’d given me a split lip, so probably the latter. Which was too bad. But then, I’d probably enjoyed our trash talk a little too much.

Football was a means to an end for most of us. The pros were a hell of a long shot, but football kept us in shape, kept us in friends and sexy hookups, and paid at least some of the bloated tuition at a place like Hayworth. But all good things must come to an end, and for me, I was beginning to think I might be okay with that coming sooner rather than later. Because for all that football gave me, it also came with a cost.

It took a toll on the body—with tackles leading to bruises, sprains, ligament tears, and fractures—and for me, at least, it took a toll on the spirit. Because as long as I remained in the uber masculine sport, I couldn’t imagine ever being open about my pansexuality.

And I was really tired of locking up that part of me.

The same part that kind of missed Simon Prentiss’s dirty looks.

2

PARKER

Practice was brutal. Without daily field practice, my body felt sluggish. Combined with too much beer and not enough sleep, optimal performance wasn’t even a blip on the radar. I held up better than some of the guys. Cruz puked on the sidelines, and Johnston looked like death warmed over. Still, Coach Jackson might have overlooked it—if Smith hadn’t walked in late and Jacobs hadn’t been a no-show.

To say our head coach was unhappy was an understatement.

He prowled before us on the sideline, having ended our drills early. “Is this how much you care about your future, gentleman? You show up to my field, not even fit to call yourselves football players! This isn’t high school. This isn’t a hobby. This may be college, but this is not the amateur hour. You are athletes, competitors.” He scoffed. “I expected self-discipline from you. Foolishly, maybe, but I will get it before the week is through.” His gaze landed on me and weighed heavily. I knew he’d expected more from me. “This field, this game may not be forever for you. It’s a loooong shot to the pros, and talent is only a tiny piece of that pie. This is temporary for some of you, I understand. But while you are here, you will give this team all you’ve got, and in return you will leave with a college education, discipline you can use for the rest of your lives, and a healthy body in peak physical condition.”

He paused, raising an eyebrow, and we obliged by calling out, “Yes, Coach.”

“I won’t tolerate sloppy, hungover players. I have no patience for bullshit,” he added gruffly. Coach was not one to sugarcoat anything. “Since you all have so much time on your hands, you’ll be committing to five hours of volunteer service a week. Get your choices approved by Coach Martinez. You’ll be reporting your hours to him weekly. You don’t do your volunteer work, you’re benched.”

He came to a stop directly in front of me. “I expected more of you, Reed.”

I nodded once. “Yes, Coach.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about your personal hang-ups,” he added while staring me in the eye, and I tried my best not to wince. My relationship with Coach had been rocky since he let Simon go. I’d fought hard for Prentiss, hard enough I was pretty sure Coach would have cut me too just to get me out of his hair, were it not for the fact he didn’t want to lose his two best wide receivers in one fell swoop. During that skirmish, I may have told Coach I didn’t care about football the way Prentiss did. He hadn’t appreciated my candor. “While on this team, you’re mine, and you will go big, or you will go home.”

Coach moved on to another player and another, targeting a few of us to vent a little more of his displeasure. Eventually, when the air was thick with disappointment, he dismissed us to shower and change.

The locker room was quieter than usual when we straggled in, beaten down by our first drill in weeks and Coach’s tongue lashing. No trash talking, joking, or laughing echoed off the walls. We stripped, quietly, and stepped into the showers. I lathered and rinsed quickly, eager to move on to breakfast. My stomach rumbled as I grabbed a towel.

“What’s this crap about volunteering?” Bryan Smith complained by his locker. “I barely find time to sleep.”

“Must be why you were late today,” Darnell Davidson said wryly, making me snort.

“What are you laughing at, Reed?” Smith groused. “Coach zeroed in on you too.”

“Yep,” I said as I opened my locker and withdrew a pair of track pants and a hoodie. I didn’t bother with underwear. “We all fucked up.” I paused. “Well, not all of us. Double D is a good boy.”

Darnell—who’d received the nickname Double D partly because he wasn’t the only Davidson on the team—flipped me off. “Man, fuck you. I just knew today would be brutal, and my ass wasn’t stupid enough to add a hangover to the mix.”

I smiled. “My mom would like you.”

“I can give her a call.” He waggled his brows. “But how do you know I haven’t already?”

“Walked right into that one,” I said as snickers went up around us. Double D was a good egg, though, and I didn’t take his trash talk seriously. If you could even call it trash talk. Pretty tame by college jock standards.

Smith continued to whine while I pulled on my clothes. “Where the hell are we s’posed to do this volunteer work anyway? We’ve got workouts, drills, game footage to review. Not to mention fucking study hall hours. And now this?”

“Suck it up,” our QB, Holmes, ordered. “There’s plenty of things going on around campus. The Greeks do charities, and I’m sure there are some other organizations too. I’ll get a list together for us, and you guys can sign up for something.”

“This is supposed to be the fucking off-season,” another player grumbled. “Coach still has to own all our time.”

Holmes scoffed. “Five hours a week is easy. I thought he might give us ten.”

“He’s done this before?” Davidson asked.

Holmes laughed. “You should have been here my freshman year. Ugly man. Just ugly.”

I slammed my locker door after stuffing my things inside. “You want to be a player, you gotta play the game.”

If anyone knew those words to be true, it had to be Simon Prentiss. He’d failed to play by the rules, and he’d lost everything.

I almost envied him.

* * *

SIMON

I bumped fists with Darnell when I arrived for my Sports Leadership class. “What’s up? You look glum.”

“Isn’t that my line?” He rumbled a deep laugh. “You’ve been one glum motherfucker since the day I met you.”

Sports Leadership was one of my smaller classes, with four rows of five desks and only half of those filled—a far cry from the lecture halls with risers to allow for a hundred-plus students to attend. Darnell was sitting in the middle of the third row, right beside my usual seat one row to the left. After everything went down with the team, I’d tried moving, but Darnell had just shifted seats so that he was beside me—even when I was a dick about it.

That was loyalty, and my boy Double D had it in extra measure. I’d finally given up and secretly been happy to continue being desk buddies. Though I had the frat, I missed having teammates.

Today, his eyes lacked their usual good humor. I dropped my backpack to the floor and folded into my too-small desk-slash-chair torture device. These seats were not made for big guys, and Darnell looked even more ridiculously uncomfortable than I was.

“Glum is my default,” I said. Even when I’d been on the team, I was too broody for most of the guys. “What’s your excuse?”

“Coach ripped us a new one, is all. Nothing you want to hear about.”

“I guess there’s one silver lining to getting my ass booted.”

Professor Jennings stepped to the front of the class just then, beginning the lecture. She was a slender, petite woman, but she’d soon shown us that she was every bit the athlete we were. She’d once been a professional gymnast on the Olympic track before an injury took her out of consideration.

Fucking injuries. Maybe they got us all in the end, and I’d just been lucky to get my ass booted for fighting before my body could break down entirely.

This class was primarily focused on leadership and programming in athletics. We learned principles that could be applied to teams, events, or facilities. It was one of the required courses for the “sports management” focus of my business degree. Our school was too small to offer the sports degree all on its own, but it could be paired with business and/or one of the exercise science programs like kinesiology. A lot of guys took it as an elective, even if they were majoring in other areas, because anything sports-related was of interest.

The jury was out on how far my degree could actually take me. I’d once hoped to benefit from Coach’s connections—assuming I didn’t get drafted, what a joke that dream seemed now—but I’d burned that bridge when I decked Reed. Once the video went viral, I was toast. I got read the riot act about how I wasn’t a team player, how I was selfish and impulsive, and how I’d cast shame on the entire football program.

I wasn’t proud of that chapter in my life or what followed. I’d yelled. I’d thrown a tantrum worthy of any two-year-old. I’d apologized; I’d groveled. At the end, I’d even cried.

It hadn’t mattered. I was done.

And just like that, my dream was gone—and cold, hard reality had taken its place.

A business degree with an emphasis in sports management would get me a job. But without any contacts in the sports world, it wouldn’t be a position working with an NFL team; it wouldn’t be scouting for a major sports organization. It probably wouldn’t even be a stadium management job. No, with the way things stood now, I’d be lucky to supervise a gym or push paper for a community rec league.

“I want to talk about your final projects today,” Jennings said, recapturing my attention. “I know, I know. Finals feel ages away. But this is a big deal, and I want you to start thinking now.”

“Here we go,” Darnell grumbled. He was a top-notch athlete and a hell of a good guy, but he did not enjoy academics.

Jennings continued. “There’s a lot of room for creativity here, but you’ll also need to think out of the box. I want you to consider what’s lacking in the sports industry. This could be at the professional, collegiate, even high school levels. What voids exist in programming, in leadership? Is there a need for better transition prep from high school to college, for example? Or better academic support in high school? Or maybe it’s something more ingrained than that.” Jennings’s eyes shifted to one of the female track stars in the class. “Is it how women are treated, differences in leadership approaches or standards? Or LGBT athletes? The sky is the limit.”

I jotted a few notes down as Professor Jennings continued her spiel. My mind was already whirling, ideas beginning to take shape as I noted the criteria I’d need to meet. A lanky basketball player raised his hand. “Professor Jennings?”

Jennings glanced over the rims of her wire glasses, which gave her a stern librarian vibe. “What is it, Mr. Jones?”

“I was wondering, is this, like, a paper we write, or an oral presentation, or…”

“Yes, I was just about to get to that.” The professor didn’t tell Eric Jones he should have been patient, but you could hear it in her tone. I smirked as she continued. “This might turn into an analytical report, or it might develop into a visual presentation, or heck, one year, a student created an entire curriculum that they felt belonged in sports education. The thing you must do, though, is not only raise a concern, but also answer it. That is what leadership is all about. You must know how to identify strengths and weaknesses in a team or a facility or a program, and then work to enhance the advantages and shore up shortcomings.”

Jennings answered a few more anxiety-laced questions before dismissing us. As class wrapped up, Darnell turned a wary gaze on me. “Man, what the hell are we supposed to do? That project is no joke.”

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s not a cakewalk.”

Darnell scoffed. “Pfft, you already have an idea, don’t you?”

My lips quirked. “I just heard the assignment. How would I have an idea already?”

There were some thoughts trying to coalesce in my mind. Losing football had been hard, really hard. Not only because I’d lost financial aid, though that was a big part of it. I’d also lost friends, lost my sense of belonging.

Lost myself, really.

I wasn’t sure yet what shape my project would take. But I knew that all my upheaval this year would influence it. There had to be more that athletic departments could do for students who’d given years to their program—even if they fucked up like me.

“Nah, I see that smart brain whirring away,” Darnell said as we packed up our notebooks and prepared to leave. “Just do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

“Give me your castoff ideas? Because I’ve got no idea what the fuck I’m gonna do.”

“Relax, Double D. You’ve got this. You’re already a leader. Just think about the team, think about all you do for your teammates.”

“How’s that s’posed to help?”

I shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe there’s something you’re trying to make up for that isn’t being handled by the coaching staff? Maybe there’s something you want from football you’re not getting.”

Darnell didn’t look any more convinced. His brow creased, and his face looked pained enough that I added with a smirk, “Or I’ll just give you one of my castoff ideas.”

He sagged with relief. “Thanks, man. This brainy shit makes my head hurt. I like sports, or else I wouldn’t be in them. How am I supposed to be smarter than the coaches?”

I laughed. “Your problem is you’re too content with life. You need to start carrying a chip on your shoulder like me and these things will come easier.”

He looked skeptical. “If you say so. I’d rather be happy than smart.”

I snorted. “You are smart, man. You’re in college.”

“Whatever you say,” he said, but a bit of his usual spark returned. “Wanna meet up for a poker game tonight? Apparently, there’s a wild game in the dorm where all the art kids stay. You know those girls get freaky.” He waggled his brows. “Could be some fun, sexy stakes if money runs low.”

I laughed and shook my head as we left the classroom, pausing before we each went our own way. “I have to work, but you have fun.”

“I always do.”

With a sigh, I thought of the work shift ahead I’d promised to cover for Rhett. I wasn’t really in the mood for sexy artistic girls anyway—as evidenced by the hours I’d spent scrolling through the Thrust hookup app, checking out pics of guys last night. But I wasn’t looking forward to the late hours on my feet, either, or the pounding headache I’d surely carry back to my room at the frat, where I’d crash into my lumpy narrow bed, exhausted, sexually frustrated, and as always, alone.

3

PARKER

Our strength and conditioning coach, Martinez, waved us in after training the next morning, brandishing a sign-up sheet. We gathered around him, the smell of sweat permeating the air. Nothing we weren’t used to, with four days of strength and conditioning workouts a week. Still, there was restless shuffling, and I imagined most the guys were eager to rinse off the sweat and grab something to eat before we spent the next few hours in class.

“Holmes was nice enough to compile a list of all the on-campus volunteer opportunities available for you guys,” he said. There was a collective groan, and he nodded his head, a smirk curling his lips. “That’s right. Coach Jackson wasn’t blowing hot air. You will all be signing up for a minimum of five hours per week.”

“How am I supposed to keep up with my study hall hours and do this?” Harding grumbled. He was a big guy, broad, heavy-set, strong as an ox. Whenever I looked at him, my ribs hurt. Even when he tried to hold back—injuries in practice were the last thing any of us wanted—a tackle from Harding was like getting hit by a runaway train.

“Harding, I know you’re not whining to me right now,” Martinez said, a note of warning in his tone. “You all found time to get drunk and turn up to your first drill of the spring season in sorry-ass shape. You only have yourselves to blame.”

“Not all of us,” someone else mumbled, but Martinez’s quelling look shut them up.

I stepped forward. “Show me where to sign up.”

Martinez clapped my shoulder as he handed me the clipboard with a pen attached. “Good man. Sign your name by the volunteer opportunity of your choice. But be quick about it. Everyone needs to sign up before anyone leaves here today. We will be verifying you follow through, too, Harding. So make sure you find time for your study hall hours and this. Last I checked, you had weekends open.”

I skimmed the list. I didn’t really care what I did, but I wanted it to be something suitable. I bypassed the study center volunteer gig. I got enough of that place as it was. I also bypassed the athletic center opportunities—mostly for helping with events. The other guys would jump all over those, but I wanted a break from sports.

My eyes landed on a handful of frat-led charities. I scanned them until I saw a familiar one. The project beside it read: House Pledge. Home repairs and upgrades for Hayworth residents in need. Construction skill appreciated but not required.

As I signed my name, Darnell peered over my shoulder. “Wait, isn’t that Simon’s frat?”

“Is it?” I asked innocently, as if I didn’t know very well that it was.

“Man, do you have a death wish?” Darnell asked, taking the clipboard as I handed it over and signing up for one of the athletic event volunteer slots. “You know he hates you, right?”

I winced. “It’s mostly a misunderstanding.”

Darnell handed off the clipboard to someone else, but he wasn’t done with me. Lowering his voice, he said, “Look, Simon’s my boy, but we both know he blames you for losing his place on the team. If I were you, I wouldn’t be getting on any ladders when he’s nearby. You feel me?”

My gut clenched. Maybe it wasn’t too late to change my choice. I glanced over at the clipboard being passed around. An uncomfortable buzzing under my skin stopped me from trying, though. I didn’t like Simon Prentiss hating me. I didn’t like that he believed I’d wanted any of this. Because I didn’t.

Not the top receiver ranking on the field, with all the attention it brought. Not the girl, who I’d only intended to be a friend.

And I sure as hell never wanted Simon to lose football.

Maybe Simon would always hate me, but I signed up for his frat’s charity project because I wanted him to know…

I never meant to ruin his life.

* * *

SIMON

When I got back to the frat after classes Thursday afternoon, some of the guys were hanging in the game room and shooting the shit while they played Madden on Xbox. I peeked in, even though I really needed to hit the books before my extra shift started at Tracks. I was in for eight hours when I usually endured only five, and unlike Rhett, I rarely managed to flirt enough for decent tips.

Still, at least the job was off campus. It allowed me to escape for a few hours and forget all about football and failure.

“Hey, wanna jump in?” Linc had noticed me loitering outside the room. He raised his controller. “I should head out.”

“Nah, I’ve had enough football to last a lifetime.”

Not quite true. I still ached, a great gaping hole inside where my passion for football had always resided. But I couldn’t let anyone see that. It made me feel too pathetic, the grief that welled up when I thought about what I’d lost.

“Sorry, man. We can switch the game.”

“That’s okay. I have to work tonight anyway.”

Cooper, our de facto leader now that the frat president had graduated, set his remote aside. “You got a minute to talk?”

“Sure.” I followed Cooper a few feet down the hallway. “What’s up?”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked on his feet, a sure sign he was nervous. “I’d like to visit Trace this weekend. He’s driven up the last three weeks, and he has a life of his own, you know? I want to give back a little.”

“Yeah, sure. That must be tough.”

I couldn’t imagine maintaining that kind of long-distance relationship. Cooper’s guy lived about a six-hour drive from Hayworth. He and Cooper had connected when he’d come up for an alumni speech. The fact he was an old friend of the dean—Cooper’s dad—couldn’t make their relationship easy either. They kept going strong, though, always willing to make the sacrifices to stay together.

“The thing is, House Pledge needs the most supervision on the weekends,” Cooper continued. “So that makes it hard for me to get away.”

I nodded. House Pledge was a charity project that Cooper had started on behalf of the frat. It’d helped the fraternity compete for funds, which had in turn allowed them to create a scholarship and save my ass. In other words, I loved the hell out of House Pledge.

“You want me to help you out?”

Cooper exhaled. “Would you? I know you’ve got your hands full with a job too. I hate to ask too much—”

“It’s cool. I wouldn’t even be here without the frat’s generosity.”

“Nah, it’s not like that,” Cooper said with an emphatic head shake. “You’re not beholden to us or anything. We barely made a dent in your tuition.”

“You gave me a free room too,” I pointed out. “It was a huge help. I don’t mind repaying the favor a little.”

I hadn’t always given one hundred percent to the frat, and they’d been pretty cool about understanding I was an athlete first and a frat brother second. But my brothers had my back when my life went to hell. They had my full loyalty now. Whatever they needed, I was their man.

“Well, like I said, you don’t owe us anything, but if you think you can swing it, I’d really appreciate it. Now that we’ve got actual grants, we especially have to take the work seriously,” Cooper said. “We’ve got a budget and a timeline and outside volunteers coming in. Lincoln has been helping out with some of the paperwork, but he’s young, and I don’t think anyone will really listen to him.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m at the work site every weekend anyway. I can step up, no problem.”

“That’s a huge load off my mind. Thanks.”

“Anytime. I know that long-distance shit can’t be easy.”

Cooper smiled wryly. “We barely know any different, but yeah, it sucks balls.” He laughed. “I’m so psyched to go to him, though. His house is super nice. He has this huge bed, and this whirlpool tub that can fit us both—”

“TMI, dude.”

He laughed. “Right, yeah. Sorry.”

“I better head up and change for work,” I said. “If I don’t see you, drive safe.”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks.”

“No prob. Bring Trace to Tracks next time he’s in town,” I said, surprising myself. I’d never been the friendliest guy, and I’d set new dickhead records over the past few months. But I liked Cooper, and seeing him with Trace might give me the guts to pursue something with a guy of my own. “The bartender might slip you a couple of free drinks.”

Cooper grinned. “Hell yeah. What good is a boyfriend if he can’t carry your drunk ass home, right?”

4

SIMON

Tracks was slammed, and Keri—a relatively new hire—was barely keeping pace. I rushed through a drink order, eyeballing how much liquor I sloshed into the glass, while Keri meticulously checked cocktail recipe cards and measured everything out. Typical of a new bartender, but not ideal in these circumstances.

On top of that, the band tonight was a real doozy. Some sort of punk metal nightmare with their volume dialed up to eleven.

“Can I get some fucking service already?”

I whirled, ready to tell someone to take a hike. We were working our asses off, and I had no idea Thursdays were such a madhouse. I didn’t envy Rhett this schedule one tiny bit.

“Listen, we’re—” I stopped short, recognizing Darnell and a couple of other defensemen. “Man, fuck you.”

He laughed. “Nice to see you too.”

I hurriedly finished the Cosmo I’d started, handing it off to a woman with short, spiky hair dyed a vivid pink and piercings in her eyebrow, nose, and ear cartilage. One thing that was kind of fun about Tracks was that we never knew what kind of crowd we’d get. The music brought in all kinds of people, and not just the college crowd.

I managed a half smile, and she shoved a one-dollar bill into the tip jar. Well, better than nothing.

Turning back to Darnell, I leaned in over the bar. “What’s up? This isn’t really your scene.”

Darnell scanned the room, nodding. “What do you know about my scene? These people look fun.”

I snorted a laugh. “Okay. What’ll you have?”

“Eh, we’ve had enough. I just came to give you a head’s up about something. We were across the street, and I was thinking, my man Simon should know what’s about to hit him.”

“Okay,” I said, drawing out the word because I couldn’t imagine what the fuck he was talking about. “You could have texted.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to see your face.”

Well, that didn’t bode well.

I glanced to the side. Keri was drowning. Holding up a finger, I moved to rescue her with a few drink orders, then returned to Darnell. “Okay, what is it?”

He grimaced. “Remember I mentioned Coach tearing us a new one?” I nodded. “He was pissed half the team turned up hungover for drills. He’s making us do volunteer work to teach us some discipline.”

“No kidding? Well, you can come out to House Pledge—”

“But that’s what I’m trying to tell you!” he said emphatically, and I saw that he was indeed a little tipsy. Coach’s plan was clearly working, I thought dryly. Although they’d only be watching game footage the next day, so Darnell would probably fly under the radar. “Reed signed up for your frat’s charity!”

“Wait. Parker fucking Reed?” I demanded.

A half dozen emotions flashed through me in quick succession—everything from resentment to regret—the anger and guilt twisting up in a complicated knot I had no idea how to unravel. Or if I even wanted to.

Darnell nodded. “And listen, okay? I know you’re holding a boulder-sized grudge against this dude, but you cannot kill him.”

Clearly, my actions with Parker had given me a bad reputation if Darnell was seriously worried I’d commit homicide. Not that I wasn’t pissed. Logical or not, fair or not, I didn’t want Parker on my turf. After everything that went down between us, why couldn’t he keep his distance?

The thirsty crowd wouldn’t leave me alone to fume, though, and soon I was pulled back into the rhythm of work. Darnell and his boys took off, and I tried not to think about Parker while I pulled beers from the taps, mixed cocktails, and helped Keri when she got overwhelmed.

By the end of the night, I was exhausted.

But there was also a restlessness simmering in my veins. An energy that wanted release. Short of tracking down Parker Reed and confronting him, which was a terrible fucking idea, I wasn’t sure how to handle it. Much as I tried to ignore it, it built up, winding me tighter and tighter as I closed up the bar and made the walk home.

By the time I got to my room at the frat and stripped down for bed, it had transported itself into a need to do something, anything. My blood pumped hot and heavy. My skin prickled.

My cock hardened.

I can just jerk off and get this out of my system, I thought.

But Parker was still on my mind. I couldn’t do it with the memory of his smirk front and center.

I pulled out my phone, clicking the stylized T icon on my home screen. Thrust, the hookup app for queer men I’d taken to tentatively scrolling through. Such a tacky name and yet...accurate, I supposed.

There was an overwhelming number of chests, abs, asses. Not so many faces, but some.

I scrolled through them, my body reacting—not that it would take much tonight. But this was what I wanted, what I’d been craving. To explore my attraction to men. But always, when I got to this point, I stopped short of reaching out.

I wasn’t ready to hook up. But I needed something more than a quick scroll and jerk. I wanted to connect with a real person, even if only through a screen.

I checked the match requests that had come in, stopping on one that intrigued me.

His body was nice. Trim but muscular, with tanned, toned arms and a pale belly under a sandy brown fuzz trail. The photo cut off, and I found myself gazing at the bottom edge of that image, where I could just make out the grooves on either side of his pelvis. I kept trying to imagine the rest of him. His cock, his thighs. My mouth watered—and that was a strong response. Damn.

Maybe I was just sex starved.

Yeah, sex starved for a man, I scoffed at myself, unwilling to hide in denial anymore. I’d been questioning my sexuality for years. I’d stumbled into some gay porn in high school and watched quite a bit in the name of curiosity.

Football had always come first, and it had always brought girls to my doorstep too. I’d played it safe. Let myself be pursued and taken the path of least resistance.

But now... Well, my cock throbbed between my thighs, and that really said it all. I reached down, squeezing myself, as I checked the drool-worthy guy’s profile. I half hoped he’d be another turnoff, so I could just jerk off and go to bed as usual. The other half of me hoped he’d impress me so that I’d finally take some action.

His profile could have almost been written by me.

Quietly bi/pan guy looking to explore but keep it discreet. Crazy busy schedule. Patience required. Nothing too personal. Not looking for a relationship.

He had his guard up, but that appealed to me. Before I could overthink it, I swiped his pic, agreeing to his match. It was the first time I’d done that. My heart jumped. What if he wanted to meet up right away? What if he said he’d come over and suck my dick right now? Was I ready for that?

I stared at my phone, but nothing happened.

I didn’t know if I was disappointed or relieved. The guy was probably asleep, for fuck’s sake.

But at least now, I had new imagery to go with the hard-on begging for attention. I set my phone aside and stroked my cock, groaning as thoughts of another man’s hand moving up and down my shaft sent me spinning into pleasure and fantasy.

Finally, my blood stopped boiling. My tension eased.

And I slipped into sleep.

But not before deciding that if Parker Reed wanted to toy with me, he better be ready for the consequences. I couldn’t be trusted when it came to that guy. He’d gotten under my skin, burrowed too deep to shake.

Even if I did feel ashamed of lashing out like I had.

* * *

PARKER

Friday night, I passed on hanging with the guys, wanting to be rested for an early morning at House Pledge. It was a house rehab program, so I knew there’d probably be some labor involved. That didn’t faze me much. If I could handle football, I could handle a little construction work.

What did faze me was the possibility of seeing Simon Prentiss.

I’d signed up on impulse, wanting to make things right between us. But Darnell’s reaction had unsettled me. We’d never been super close, Double D and me, not like he was with Simon. But we were teammates and dorm neighbors, and I didn’t think he’d steer me wrong. If anyone knew how Simon would react, it was him.

I figured I’d better be braced for anything to happen—even another fist to the face. So instead of drinking and waking up hungover, I settled in early with one of my favorite movies, Groundhog Day. It drove my mom crazy that I enjoyed watching a movie that repeated the same day over and over again—but there was something comforting about that. I wouldn’t mind going back to one day in particular and re-doing it. Maybe find a better outcome for everyone involved. Besides, Mom had no room to talk after watching Sophie’s Choice. At least my movie wasn’t depressing as fuck.

While the movie played, I scrolled social media and returned texts from friends. I was on a group chat with some of the guys, and they were hyped up since it was a Friday night and they were guaranteed a morning to sleep in—unlike me, since I was a glutton for punishment.

It also annoyed Mom to watch me multi-task like this, but hey, it was a skill. If I could watch a movie, talk to friends, and catch up on the latest Reddit post, more power to me, right?

In that spirit, I added the Thrust app to the mix. I had no intention of hooking up tonight, but it’d been a while since I’d checked it. With my need to stay on the DL, I couldn’t exactly jump at the first offer that came my way. But at least the app gave me the opportunity to flirt a little. Maybe exchange some pics (no face, of course) or sext now and then. It wasn’t much, wasn’t enough, and eventually I’d try to find a discreet guy. There were always guys who wanted to be as anonymous as I did, but as a recognizable sports star on campus I had to be extra cautious.

My app was jammed with match requests, along with a few messages from guys I’d approached first. ExtraTopping, a beefy guy with a cute grin and dimples; xxbottomsupxx, a slimmer guy with gorgeous ivory skin set off by dark hair; and BiCuriousStud, a more built version of the last guy. Oh yeah, I liked him. He hadn’t included his face in the pic, but I could tell from his skin tone and the hair that trailed down from his navel into an elastic waistband that he also had dark hair. I definitely had a type.

This last guy intrigued me. His photos were sort of crappy, like he wasn’t practiced at taking sexy selfies. The lighting was dim, but the man was fit. This being a college town, there were plenty of young, hot guys—but not many with this level of muscle definition. He hit the gym a lot, maybe was an athlete too. He was a man of few words in his profile, saying he liked to stay active but worked too much to date.

I opened the message he’d sent after agreeing to my match.

Liked your profile. You sound like me.

Hmm. Interesting. My profile had mentioned I was busy as hell, so he could mean that. Or he could mean that he wanted to remain discreet. Which would greatly improve my shot at actually taking this offline.

I slid into his DMs.

Are you a narcissist?

Two seconds after I sent it, I wished I could snatch it back. What if he took me seriously and blocked me for being an asshole. I quickly added: You said you liked my profile because I sound like you... sorry haha.

BiCuriousStud: You’re a charmer.

HotPan22: Bad joke. Sorry. One of my charms?

BiCuriousStud: Well, it’s a step above wanna trade dick pics, I’ll give you that.

HotPan22: There goes my pickup line.

There was a long enough pause I had to wonder if he got my humor. Something got lost in translation with texting. Despite exchanging only a few words, I didn’t want to fuck it up before we even got started. There was something about his acerbic delivery I liked.

Before I could rush out another comment to clarify I was kidding, a message from him came through.

BiCuriousStud: To answer your question, I might be vain, but I’ve got zero desire to fuck myself.

HotPan22: Really? I quite enjoy a good self-pleasure session ;)

BiCuriousStud: It’s more a necessity of life at this point. Gotta get to sleep somehow.

HotPan22: That’s sad. Sounds like you need some excitement in your life.

I exhaled in relief. There we go. Better. Smiling to myself, warming up to the flirty banter, my thumbs flew over the screen. I was invested now. I felt a little flutter in my gut, a warmth that suffused my body.

I’d always loved flirting. There was something about flirting online that was nth level though. You couldn’t rely on your looks or your body language. It was all in the words, your wit, and there was a fun challenge in that.

BiCuriousStud: This where you ask to see my dick?

HotPan22: I’m not opposed...

BiCuriousStud: I want to be upfront here. I haven’t done this before.

HotPan22: Hooked up via app or...

BiCuriousStud: Been with a guy.

HotPan22: Looking to change that?

BiCuriousStud: Maybe but not right now. I’ve got to crash, and I’m still figuring out some shit about myself. If you don’t have patience for that, it’s cool.

Well, this guy was fucking perfect, wasn’t he? He wasn’t looking to rush into a hookup. Sure, being uncertain of what he wanted wasn’t exactly ideal. I didn’t want someone who was gonna freak over dicks touching. At the same time, it opened up a world of fun possibilities. I indulged myself in a brief fantasy of taking this dude under my wing, tutoring him in the ways of man-on-man loving—via messages, of course. Bit by bit, I’d uncover his turn-ons, the little things that made him harder, made him want more.

And when the time was right, maybe—just maybe—we’d both be ready to take it off-screen. Oh yeah, this could be fun.

But I had to tread carefully. I didn’t want to scare him by coming on too strong. The situation called for a delicate approach, not my forte.

After a little thought, I texted back: tbh my schedule is pretty packed. I’m not in a rush to hook up right now. I just need an outlet, you know?

He was quick to respond. You look hot enough to get outlets anywhere you go.

My lips curled up. He was taking the bait.

Aha, so you’re the charmer.

I added on: I’m kinda on the DL.

Oh right, your profile said.

He added: I gotta run, but... maybe we chat again?

Oh, hell yeah. I was counting on it. Whoever BiCuriousStud was, he’d definitely captured my interest. I couldn’t wait to see how this played out.

5

PARKER

Saturday morning, I caught a ride with Darnell in his 1984 Chevy Caprice.

We didn’t usually hang out, but we lived in the same hall, and this morning he’d been oddly insistent about giving me a lift to the House Pledge work site. I didn’t really want to walk the mile across town, so I followed him to his parking spot and got in.

I smirked when I saw the interior—crushed maroon velvet.

“Don’t be laughing at my ride,” he said as he crammed himself behind the wheel. Darnell was a big guy, and the space inside the car seemed to shrink by the second.

I held up my hands. “I would never.”

He snorted. “You white boys have no taste. You’d probably prefer to be riding around in a dumbass convertible Porsche or some shit.”

I laughed. “Nah, I’ll let Barbie keep her car. I like your wheels. Better than the nothing I’ve got at any rate. I just love this velvet interior.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’d be a great porn scene, right? Sexy times on all this velvet.”

He side-eyed me before reversing out of the parking space in front of the dorm building that housed most of the school’s athletes. “I don’t know about all that. Talking porn with dudes isn’t really my thing.”

“Pfft, yeah, I don’t want to talk porn with dudes either.”

Not dudes on my football team anyway. Definitely not Darnell. He was a good guy, but he wasn’t even remotely my type. Deciding it was in my best interest to change the subject, I said, “Why are you giving me a ride anyway? I thought you were against me volunteering with Prentiss?”

“Figured I’d better be on hand in case I have to pull him off your sorry ass again. It might be the off season, but Coach won’t be happy if he loses another wide receiver.”

“He didn’t have to lose the first one,” I muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Just…you know I didn’t want Prentiss gone, right?”

Darnell considered me as he rolled to a stop. “Yeah, I know. That’s one of the reasons we’re still cool.”

I knew he was tight with Simon, so I appreciated that he hadn’t iced me out. I never should have shown my face with Kristin. I realized that now. She’d given me a song and dance about how distant and angry Simon had become, and how she just wanted to go out and have a nice break from their drama. We had a class together and had been friendly. I’d believed she was genuine at the time. Now, I was pretty sure I’d been a pawn to make him jealous.

It’d worked too. A little too well.

I rubbed a hand over my mouth, remembering the right hook that had laid me out flat and turned Simon’s scholarship to ashes. He had a temper, and I’d be testing it again by intruding on his project. Still, was there any other way to make peace than to venture out on that olive branch?

Darnell pulled up in front of the work site, an old two-story Victorian in very sorry shape. It was splotchy from where the paint had unevenly faded, and flaked away in some places, with the upper floors even worse than the lower. There were a number of rails missing from the porch, and some of the siding was torn away beneath it. But all that sort of faded when compared with the sheer amount of junk that littered the front yard.

There was an abandoned porch swing with rusted chains sitting on the lawn, along with a tire, no fewer than three televisions, what looked like an old freezer, a rolled up rug, and a ton of rusted out tools and gardening equipment, including a lawn mower that probably hadn’t worked for a decade.

It looked like we had our work cut out for us.

D grabbed my shoulder before I could get out. “Keep your distance today. He ain’t ready to make nice.”

Well, crap. Had coming here been a mistake?

“Distance is my specialty.” I said lightly, waggling my brows. “I always leave those defensemen in my dust, don’t I?”

Darnell grinned. “Yeah, well, Simon is no slow-ass tackle. You’ve got nothing on him.”

Before I could formulate a comeback, he killed the engine and got out of the car. I followed him across the yard toward the small crew gathering for instructions. Despite D’s warning, I hadn’t volunteered for House Pledge to keep my distance…but maybe I could ease my way in. I also hadn’t come here to be a dick.

I could take it slow. I could give Simon time. I could—

Oh, damn.

My first glimpse of Simon Prentiss in months hit me in the solar plexus.

I forgot how gorgeous he is.

His hair was a little longer, more on the shaggy side than when he’d been on the team, and the dark strands danced in the wind. He raised a hand, shoving it back from his eyes as he talked with a guy beside him, looking as serious as ever. Simon had always had an intensity about him that was captivating. He’d poured that intensity into his game, working harder than anyone I’d ever known. If it weren’t for injuries, he’d have been one of the best wide receivers a place like Hayworth had ever seen.

He’d had shit luck, there was no disputing that.

I was a good wide receiver too. Faster than Simon, a little more agile on turns. I had the talent. What I didn’t have was the discipline. Football wasn’t my future, and I was okay with that. More than okay, I was eager. I wanted a life that involved more than weight-lifting, running drills, and keeping my sexuality on the DL. Football had been fun—until it’d become more work than play. Now, I was mostly over it. I had a whole life ahead of me.

My mom, on the other hand, was likely to be heartbroken when I stopped playing and moved on to other things. Which is why I hadn’t shared my feelings with her—or the thoughts that kept creeping in that maybe I should quit sooner rather than later.

Simon glanced up. “Okay, guys, today we’re—uh…” He faltered briefly as his brown eyes connected with mine.

Darnell hip checked me, tossing me a few feet aside and grinned. “Hey, Simon, hope you got enough work for me?”

Simon raised his eyebrows as he glanced from Darnell to me, but he didn’t seem shocked that I was here. Someone—most likely someone with a name starting in D—had warned him.

Simon glanced at the clipboard in his hands. “I don’t see your name on here, D.”

“Yeah, I’m just tagging along with Reed.”

Simon scrutinized the list, his lips pressing into a flat line. He did not like seeing my name there. Despite my plans to mend fences, something about his hostility caused my pulse to speed up. Would he try to punch me again, rather than accept my help? And why did that idea seem more exciting than scary?

I remembered the moment Simon had dropped down over me, straddling my waist as he yelled into my face. His eyes had been full of rage—but something else too. There and gone. A flash of lust.

Or maybe I was delusional. Simon tore his eyes from me and pretended I wasn’t there. That rankled.

“All right, all helpers are welcome,” he said, keeping his gaze on Darnell. “We’re clearing the yard today. The owner has given us the go-ahead to take all of this stuff to the dump. Tomorrow, we’ll work on the porch to make sure the rails are replaced and there are no safety hazards. Then, my friends, we’ll be scraping and painting this bad boy.” He flung out his arm, like freaking Vanna White displaying the prize. “It’s not a small job, but we’ve got a few weeks to do it. And imagine how great this place can look. The owner, Howard, is actually an alum of Hayworth. He’s worked hard his whole life, but his health isn’t up to this kind of work. He deserves our best, so let’s give it to him.”

Simon continued with directions, assigning jobs to each of the volunteers as they approached, sending them off in different directions. Some to push wheelbarrows, others to bag up trash, and still others to load the work pickup that was parked in the drive. They’d have to make several trips to the dump.

“Where do you want me?” I asked as Darnell and I reached the front of the line.

Simon looked up at Darnell. “D, can you join the guys moving those old appliances in the back? They’re gonna need some more muscle.”

“Sure.” He hesitated. “Want Reed to join me?”

“Nah. I’ve got another job for him.” His dark eyes sliced into me. There was nothing but malice pouring off him now. Not a single hint of attraction. That punch to my face must have knocked a few screws loose. Simon wasn’t hot for me, just hot under the collar.

“Good luck,” Darnell murmured as he left me to my fate.

I smiled broadly. “So, how can I help you, Simon?”

He looked a little startled to hear me say his first name. On the team, we mostly kept to last names and team nicknames. But I liked the way it rolled off my tongue.

“Why are you here, Parker?”

Oh, hell. I liked the way my name rolled off his tongue even more.

I tried to play it cool. Darnell was right. Simon wasn’t ready to kiss and make up. If only he wanted to kiss. That wouldn’t be a hardship.

I cleared my throat. “Coach gave us an ultimatum to volunteer somewhere. So here I am.”

“There’s a lot of places to volunteer.”

I shrugged a shoulder. “I liked the sound of this project.” I licked my lips. Despite my bravado, I was nervous. “You did say you could use all the help you could get.”

He groaned. “Yeah, but I didn’t mean you.”

Okay, that stung. He was shaking his head. Fuck. Was he gonna boot me to the curb? “Thought you said you had a job for me.”

That malicious gleam re-entered his gaze. “You sure you want to stay?”

“Yeah.” I swallowed. “What happened with us, it was a fluke. I’m not holding a grudge.”

He barked a rough laugh. “That’s great, Parker. Such a fucking relief. I’m glad you’re not holding a grudge that my whole fucking life went up in flames and you got to fucking benefit from it.”

“It wasn’t—I didn’t want—”

“Whatever.” His anger seemed to deflate, there and gone. “Come with me.”

He turned, marching toward the front of the house, so I trailed along, wondering what punishment he had in mind for me. I might not be holding a grudge about taking a fist to the face, but his resentment was as sharp-edged as ever.

I’d wanted to make peace, but the animosity vibrating off him in waves tempted me to knock him on his ass instead. Drop down over him, like he had me the night he’d lost his shit and decked me.

I imagined locking my hands around his throat and giving him a good strangle. It was satisfying. Then I imagined kissing that fucking hard mouth until we were both breathless.

“Climb under there.” Simon slapped a pair of work gloves against my chest and pointed to a small opening under the porch. “You’re about to get dirty.”

Oh, I was already fucking there. But my dirty mind wouldn’t do either of us any favors. When I squirmed under the porch to clear out more trash and rotting food—the must and dust and a fear of creepy-crawlies almost overwhelming me—I wondered what the fuck I’d gotten myself into.

Why did I care if Simon Prentiss hated me? He’d always been a bit of an intense, hot-headed dick. He’d been unfriendly at every turn, calling me out for fucking joking around on the field like it was a fucking crime to have fun.

He was—oh fuck, is that a dead skunk?

I didn’t quite muffle a startled squeal, and Simon’s husky laugh drifted through the porch beams, raising goosebumps on my skin.

He was sadistic; that’s what he was. Simon Prentiss was playing with me, getting his jollies from making me swim through filth, and I was letting him. Because hell, hearing that laugh, it did something to me.

It made me want to wallow for him—if only he’d give me another chance.

* * *

SIMON

The mic squealed with feedback, jolting me where I stood zoned out behind the bar at Tracks.

“Fuck,” I muttered, taking in the line that had formed while I’d been lost in my head. Lost in remembering the sheer pleasure that had washed through me when a thoroughly filthy Parker Reed had crawled out from under that old, sagging porch. Mud had stained the knees of his jeans and the elbows of the hoodie he wore with the Hayworth mascot, a cartoon-style Haymaker with a disturbing grin, on it. Dust had fallen from his hair when he ran his hands through it, shuddering and cursing and dancing around like he had ants in his pants. Hell, maybe he did.

I’d laughed until he’d looked up, his baby blues burning bright in his dusty, sweat-streaked face.

“That’s your one free shot,” he’d said. “And it’s one more than you deserve, considering you’ve already bashed my face in.”

That was a bit of an exaggeration. I hadn’t hit him that hard. But I did regret it—and not only because it had cost me my scholarship and place on the team. I hated that I’d lost control like that. I didn’t want to be the sort of guy who let his temper rule him. The sort of guy to get violent.

And I wasn’t—usually. I’d never been in a serious fight before that night. Something about Parker got under my skin. Maybe because he represented everything I wanted but had lost: the top wide receiver position on the field, a body that didn’t betray him with injuries, the confidence that things would go his way. And why wouldn’t they? He was the golden boy. That had never been me, no matter how hard I had worked for it.

“Simon! Where’s your head at, man?”

I glanced at Rhett, surprised by his impatient tone. We usually got along well, but he didn’t like slackers, and I wasn’t keeping up tonight.

“Sorry.” I forced my hands back into action, finishing the drink I’d started before I spaced out. “Just had a weird day.”

He made a noncommittal noise, most of his focus on the drink he was mixing, a margarita by the looks of it. They were a hit with a lot of the women, and Rhett had a pretty brunette leaning against the bar, smiling in his direction.

“Tip alert,” I mumbled as I slipped past him to grab the rum for my next order.

He snorted quietly, smirking, then smoothly transitioned to a flirty smile as he slid the margarita onto the bar before her. “Enjoy.”

“Oh, I will,” she said, pushing a napkin forward. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

She melted back into the crowd to be replaced by another thirsty patron and another. I grabbed a bottle of Heineken and thanked all that was holy for beer drinkers. We’d never keep up if they all ordered mixed drinks.

“Damn,” Rhett said as he held up the napkin displaying a name and digits scribbled in blue ink. “I got a phone number, but no tip.”

I laughed. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

He shrugged. “I’ve got bills to pay.”

“Don’t we all.”

Tracks remained jammed till last call, and neither of us wasted words beyond the necessary shop talk to navigate around each other in a small space. When the last round of drinks finally went out, I sagged, dropping my head onto my crossed arms on the bar.

“Don’t crap out on me now,” Rhett said. “We still gotta close out.”

“I know.” I groaned, pushing myself up.

Rhett watched me speculatively. “Burning the candle at both ends?”

“Yeah,” I said tiredly. “I’ve got this volunteer work I do. It involves a lot of manual labor.”

He whistled low. “School, bartending, and volunteering. What are you, some kind of superhero?”

I laughed, thinking of my behavior today. “More like a supervillain.”

Rhett’s forehead creased, obviously not knowing what the hell I was talking about. I waved a hand. “Never mind. I’m delirious at this point.”

“I can see that. I hate to be a hardass, but I’ve got a cram session when I get back to the dorm and a test Monday morning, so…”

He didn’t have to spell it out. I grabbed a rag and started wiping down the bar while he snagged a mop to clean up spills. A couple of servers also worked on weekends, and they’d help set the outer room to rights. With any luck, I’d be in my bed within the hour.

And that’s when I remembered HotPan22 on my hookup app. My heart beat a little faster. Would I have another message? Did I want one? He’d said he’d be patient. I hoped that was true, because I wasn’t sure how I’d handle a tacky come-on or unsolicited dick pic.

I kind of wanted to see the guy’s dick if I was honest. But I was still trying to come to terms with that fact. I wasn’t sure I was ready to dive headfirst into sexting waters. I needed to dip my toes in, wade a little. I wasn’t the type to jump in the deep end and see if I was going to sink or swim. I learned how to swim—with lessons. I trained for it. I prepared for it.

But I had no idea how to prepare for this.

6

PARKER

I rolled to an off-campus party with the team, though we were all on the same page about keeping it low-key. No posting to social media, no bad behavior that would get us in more hot water with Coach Jackson. Our off-season training schedule was Tuesday through Friday, with only Wednesdays for drills—meaning we were all free to recover Sunday and Monday—but none of us wanted to take any chances.

Besides, we were all tired as fuck. I wasn’t the only one who’d been volunteering most of the day. I was probably the only one who had to shower thoroughly afterward, though. Darnell wouldn’t even let me in his car. I had to bum a ride from one of the guys taking a load to the dump. To add insult to injury, Darnell had regaled the guys all night about my unmanly shrieks and the shudder-shake dance I’d done when I’d emerged covered in mud.

“Sounds like Prentiss got some payback,” Hinkel said.

“Yeah, well, watch out,” I muttered. “After he hides my body, who do you think will be next?”

Hinkel was one of a handful of wide receivers, but the best suited to run the same routes as Simon and I. Our other guys were more useful in different places on the field.

“Hey, I didn’t kiss his girlfriend,” he protested.

I scowled. “She kissed me.”

“Suuuure, you didn’t want the hot girl’s lips on you at all,” another of the guys crowed.

I flipped them off and headed for the watered-down beer. I had to wait in line. The party was crammed into a small apartment, the smell of perfume, cologne, and hair gel thick in the enclosed space. Despite the tight quarters, there had to be a hundred people there.

After a long day of work and humiliation, I wasn’t in the mood to flirt, especially when I had to suppress my attraction to any guys and only focus on women like the one who kept standing too close in line, pressing her soft body against my arm while she leaned in to make small talk.

When Darnell found me a short while later, I shot him a glare. “Don’t even start.”

“I’m heading out,” he said. “Gotta pick up this girl I met the other night. Chantel. She needs a ride to the party.”

I blinked. “Okay.”

He punched my arm lightly, nearly knocking me off my feet. “Thought you might want to cut out? I can drop you by the dorm.”

A relieved breath gusted from me. “Oh, hell yes.”

“Aw.” The redhead who’d been doing her best to capture my attention pouted. “We could have fun.”

I shot her a practiced smile. “Some other time.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she called as we weaved through the mass of bodies toward the door. Luckily, Darnell was a big fucker, and the sea parted before him.

We got to the dorm in record time, just three minutes door to door. Darnell pulled up, letting the car idle while I reached for the door handle.

“You did a good thing today.”

I paused, glancing over incredulously. “Um, yeah, volunteer work. Yay.”

He laughed, his teeth bright against the dark interior. “No, dipshit. Letting Simon do you like that? A lot of guys would have refused.”

“Probably should have.”

Darnell seemed to assess me. Whatever he saw, he seemed satisfied. “He can be a prick, but he’s also miserable. I think you showing up, letting him dish out a little punishment—deserved or not—might be just what he needed. What you both need.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that. I wasn’t sure how wallowing around in trash was what I needed, but I got what Darnell was trying to say. Simon might have been the one to punch me, but he’d also been the one to lose everything as a result. He needed someone to blame, and I was the easiest target. Today, I gave him an outlet for all that resentment.

“Yeah, okay. Just don’t expect me to be his whipping boy forever,” I said as I got out of the car.

Darnell smirked. “Well, it was fun while it lasted.”

“Fuck you,” I said with a laugh and jogged up the sidewalk while he drove off to pick up his date.

When I got inside, I was too wound up to sleep. Figured. I’d spent all evening fucking exhausted, and now my body refused to settle. Darnell’s comments about Simon rattled in my brain, starting an uncomfortable buzz under my skin. Maybe he was right, and I’d soothed some of Simon’s ruffled feathers. Maybe there’d come a day Simon didn’t hate me so much, but so what? Why did that thought make me restless and jittery? Why did it make my heart race and my palms grow damp?

I tried to shrug off the feeling, but it persisted. Simon’s death glare came to mind, along with that stray thought I’d briefly entertained about strangling and kissing him.

“Oh, fuck no,” I groaned. “Not happening.”

I was not going to sit there and fantasize about a guy who hated me. No way, no how. I’d sought out Simon to make peace, not to…pant after him like a lap dog, for fuck’s sake.

With a growl of irritation, I tugged out my phone and opened the Thrust app.

Maybe BiCuriousStud would want to chat. He was worth more of my attention. I’d felt a connection from our very first words. There was potential there if I played my cards right and let it unfurl gradually.

I didn’t need Simon’s glares or hostility—even if he was incredibly hot.

* * *

SIMON

By the time I finished closing the bar and got back to my room, my stomach was knotted with nerves at the thought of chatting with HotPan again. I felt ridiculous. I wasn’t getting naked with the guy. I was maybe flirting. With a guy. With a really hot guy, judging by his photos, which were a lot nicer than mine. Clearly he knew his way around a hookup app and had probably been with a lot of men before, and—

Just man the fuck up.

I clicked the T icon and waited while the app opened. My inbox was stuffed with more match requests. Jesus. How did anyone sort through the onslaught? It was like going to one of those restaurants with a massive menu of one hundred-plus items. It sounded good in theory, but then you ended up staring at the menu for an hour, no clue what to order.

I bypassed all the requests and went straight to the message stream with him. He’d probably forgotten about me and moved on already. Who the heck wanted to stick around for a guy who bluntly said he wasn’t interested in hooking up on a hookup app, for fuck’s sake?

I clicked the window, and my breath caught.

He’d messaged me.

HotPan22: You around tonite? We could chat…

A nice, tame invitation. Some of my nerves settled. I’d been imagining all kinds of demands, but this felt low-pressure.

BiCuriousStud: I was working, but I’m free now. What did you want to talk about?

HotPan22: You.

That gave me pause. I wasn’t ready to divulge too much about myself. I knew I wanted to explore, but it wasn’t as if I were ready to announce that to the world. Besides, this guy could be anyone. He might be in one of my business classes, for fuck’s sake. He looked to be close to my age, and it wasn’t like Hayworth was a huge campus. Our paths could cross at any time.

Not sure I want to give out my personal info.

Sorry if that seems rude.

He was quick to answer.

No, of course. No personal details. I’m on the DL myself for #reasons

HotPan22: I was thinking more like, tell me something about you. Favorite food? Favorite movie?

BiCuriousStud: Wow, I feel like I’m on a date now.

BiCuriousStud: I’m a Gemini, my favorite food is street tacos with extra hot sauce, and my favorite movie is The Departed.

HotPan22: You’d get along well with my mother. Watching that depressing ass movie.

BiCuriousStud: It’s not depressing. It’s a great movie with amazing writing and acting, and it’s true to life.

HotPan22: Spoiler alert: It’s full of death.

BiCuriousStud: Like I said, true to life.

Our conversation went like that, back and forth, as we discussed our favorite music, television, eating spots around Hayworth. Anything was game, though I carefully avoided any mention of sports. He did too, but then maybe he wasn’t a sports hound like me. I’d grown up watching ESPN. My dad left it on in the background pretty much all the time.

Even now, with football such a sore spot, I couldn’t resist checking sports blogs and articles, speculating about trades that could be made, how teams would shape up for the next season, who was overdue to retire.

Talking with HotPan was easy, which I liked.

He knew how to lighten my mood when I drifted too dark—which, I knew, happened a little too often lately. He was also a hell of a flirt, able to insert subtle innuendo without directly coming on to me.

It was kind of like a date—without the stuffy clothes, the overpriced meal and drinks, and the awkward lulls that hang over a dinner table between two relative strangers. I wouldn’t have minded seeing his face, but there was a benefit to the anonymity between us. It was easier to let down the wall, talk about my likes and dislikes.

By the time our conversation wandered into dangerous territory, I wasn’t nearly as nervous.

So, what got you onto this app? he asked me. How long have you been…curious?

I liked how he asked. It was respectful. He wasn’t giving me grief for being some confused straight boy. He wasn’t implying I wasn’t queer enough or was homophobic for not feeling ready to yell it from the rooftops.

I’d seen enough of the profiles on the app to know there were a lot of toxic assholes floating in this cyberspace. Somehow, I’d landed a nice guy.

I’ve always felt this way, I admitted. I just wasn’t ready to take any action, you know? My life was going a certain direction, and I didn’t want to rock the boat.

Makes sense. So, what happened to change your mind?

I smiled grimly.

My boat fucking capsized.

He sent over a string of laughing emojis.

Shit man, you have a way with words. Not to laugh at your misfortune or anything. I’m sorry you went into the drink, but I’m glad it brought you here to me.

To you, huh? I felt my heart quicken at the thought.

For now anyway, he said. For as long as you’re interested. If…you’re interested.

Oh, I am. My body was more than a little invested in our flirtation. I’d been running hot most of the night. I’m not ready to hook up for sex or anything, but I find you very interesting.

Then I’m flattered, and I count myself lucky.

You’re a patient guy, huh?

The best things come to those who wait…

If he was right, then we were both in for a hell of a treat. Even with our relatively innocent conversation, I’d felt the possibility of what might come. The chemistry that could combust with just a little urging.

If the anticipation didn’t kill me first.

7

PARKER

You ever think about who we might be without people pushing us to be who they want us to be?

I typed the message to BiCuriousStud impulsively, frustrated by a week of chastisement by Coach, followed by “encouraging” pep talks from my parents. Sometimes being a student athlete was too much, and I just wanted to walk away. I imagined the freedom I’d have without workout regimens, drills, and mandated study halls I didn’t even need half the time.

Whenever I expressed this frustration, though, my family reminded me how lucky I was. To play a game I’d always loved. To receive a scholarship for it. To have loyal teammates and friends. To gain experience I could use in the future and throughout my life.

There was the ul*timate dream of being drafted by the NFL. It happened on occasion for Hayworth players—though not nearly as often as it did at larger football programs. But even without the draft, there were other avenues to continuing a career in football. Undrafted free agency, for one.

Coach had a few connections with some of the regional teams, and Mom was convinced he could get me a look by someone important. Some guys got onto the roster that way, and some got onto a practice team, but either way it was a foot in the door. And if that didn’t pan out, catching the eye of someone important could lead to other jobs.

But did I really want my entire life to revolve around my glory days in college football?

Not so much. I wasn’t even sure about my backup plan anymore—teaching high school football. Instead, I found myself rearranging my schedule to take elementary classes in the hopes of teaching younger kids instead.

But my parents were just so damn proud of me. It made me feel like a shit not to appreciate what I had. Especially when I considered how much Simon would probably give to trade places with me.

My phone buzzed, and I surreptitiously checked it. I was supposed to be studying—but I couldn’t focus tonight, despite playing catch-up thanks to my change of heart about which area of education to study.

BiCuriousStud had answered me. You feeling the weight of expectation? Can’t say I do. I’ve always done what I wanted and fuck everyone else.

I smiled wryly. That sounds great, actually.

So do it.

It’s not really that simple. I’d let a lot of people down.

You sound like one of my friends, he responded. Always worried about pleasing other people. But what about you? You deserve to be happy too.

Maybe he was right. Maybe I was a people-pleaser. But I doubted Coach would think of it the same way. He’d say I had a responsibility to finish what I started. Mom and Dad wouldn’t try to stop me, but they wouldn’t understand. They’d warn me that I might regret walking away, that maybe I was just stressed or tired.

And there were elements of truth to that.

But they didn’t know the whole of it. That as long as I continued with football, I couldn’t really be me.

Sorry to be a mope today, I texted.

I’d been chatting with BiCuriousStud every couple of days. We talked about random things we could both relate to: the best food at the student rec center, the best jogging paths on campus, our favorite shortcuts from one end of campus to the other.

We kept it light, casual. Nothing too personal. I could tell BiCurious was still feeling me out, deciding if I was someone he’d want to get to know better. It was a bit unusual for a hookup app. Usually it was about getting off, not making friends. But there was something about his honesty that I liked. He’d been upfront with me, and it wasn’t as if I could hook up easily myself. Not with a recognizable face and name on campus. But I could have found someone easier, someone who was game for more than PG-13 conversation, at least.

The thing is, I didn’t want easy. I wanted to feel a connection.

That wasn’t too straight-forward when you were a closeted football player. But online, it was different. I didn’t have to be guarded. I didn’t have to worry about being outed. I could talk, and flirt, and maybe eventually have something more.

And it was the something more, as in a real relationship instead of a quick orgasm, that intrigued me the most.

He texted me back. Mope to me anytime. I have a big-ass chip on my shoulder half the time. I’m not exactly a ray of sunshine.

Maybe you’re my ray of sunshine, I typed, feeling daring.

Fuck off.

I laughed out loud, drawing Hinkel and Johnston’s attention. I quickly typed out a goodbye and shoved my phone into my bag. Hinkel continued to watch me as I returned to my books. Later, when we were packing up to leave, he nudged me.

“Who’s the girl?”

“What?”

“You were totally mooning over your phone tonight. Someone’s got you on the hook.”

I shook my head, but I could feel my face giving me away even as I lied. “It was just a friend.”

“Uh-huh.” He stared at me hard, and when I didn’t offer anything more, he shrugged. “Keep your secrets then. But she must be pretty amazing to make you grin like such a dope.”

Johnston fell into step with us as we left the study center, crossing the parking lot in the direction of the athletic dorms. “Have you met Reed? He’s always got a dopey grin on his face.”

“Fuck you,” I said with a laugh. “My smile is my best feature. Gotta flaunt it.”

They both snorted with skepticism. Fuckers. I bet BiCurious would appreciate my smile. Appreciate a lot of things these guys would never understand.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Hinkel said with a smirk.

“Yeah, maybe just don’t look in the mirror while you do it.”

I shoved Johnston, and he barely budged. Fucking linebackers. He shoved me back, and I tipped into the bushes. They both cackled into the night.

* * *

SIMON

I drove the work truck to the two-story behemoth we were tackling for House Pledge so Cooper could ride over with Trace. Since they were both in town this weekend, I was off the hook as site foreman for the day.

I glanced out the window as I came to a stop, spotting Parker milling around with the other volunteers. He’d returned, even after I’d made him wallow in the mud. With a smile on his face, because not even getting thrown into a shit job and ridiculed could get under his skin. Parker has always been that way. Hell, he’d grinned at me right after I punched him. Who the hell did that?

That got me thinking about something HotPan had said. I’d maybe been a little insensitive about the idea of expectations. Hadn’t I stepped up as foreman—and dealt with Parker—because I’d promised Cooper he could count on me?

Linc, who rode along with me, dived out his door the moment we pulled to a stop. I took my time, pulling out my phone to send a text off to my new chat buddy.

In all fairness, I do know what it means to have expectations weigh on you.

He was quick to respond: Yeah?

I don’t care what people think, in general, but sometimes we owe people.

HotPan22: Like family?

BiCuriousStud: Maybe. Or friends. People who have your back and now you need to have theirs.

HotPan22: Ah, so you’re loyal.

BiCuriousStud: When someone earns it.

HotPan22: And have I?

BiCuriousStud: Not yet

HotPan22: Oh brutal truth!

BiCuriousStud: But I’m hoping you will. I think you will.

I repocketed my phone, feeling myself flush as Cooper’s voice drifted through the cracked window. “Gather round everyone! We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

I got out, surveying the lawn. Parker put away his phone and stepped forward, as if eager for more punishment. Or maybe he was just eager to get his assignment from someone who wasn’t me. I noticed Darnell hadn’t come with him this time. He’d probably only come along the week before to ensure I didn’t bloody Parker when he dared to show his face. Darnell had told me last year when I’d suggested he could come with me to one of these jobs that he didn’t go to college to do construction work. He went to college to get out of the life of manual labor his father lived.

While Cooper doled out jobs, with Trace interjecting the occasional safety warning, I hung back. I didn’t even notice Linc next to me until he spoke. “You really don’t like that guy, huh?”

I startled, whipping my head toward him. “Who?”

He tilted his head to the right. I didn’t need to look to know that’s where Parker stood. I couldn’t keep my gaze from wandering back to him. “I don’t,” I confirmed, even though a voice in my mind whispered that maybe it wasn’t Parker who was the problem.

“We need to kick his ass or something?” Linc asked.

I winced. “Kicking his ass isn’t the problem. Or really it is.” When Linc looked puzzled, I said, “I did that already. It’s why I lost my scholarship.”

“Ohhh shit. I heard about that, but…” He coughed, sounding awkward. “Wow, okay. Well, I’ve got nothing then.”

“That’s all right, man. Thanks for trying.”

I found that the usual surplus of anger wasn’t simmering within me. Seeing Parker get down and dirty last weekend had been cathartic. A metaphorical evening of the playing field, tarnishing that perfect “golden boy” persona he had. But it also made it tougher to carry a grudge. He wasn’t really to blame for my life going to shit, even if I was still pissed he’d moved in on Kristin while I was down. Despite his disregard for the bro code, he’d more than earned a reprieve. He just made a convenient target for my frustrations, one that was hard to resist when we were in close proximity.

“Simon?” Cooper called as Parker nodded and strode off. “What do you want to do today?”

I jogged over. “I get to choose? I feel like teacher’s pet.”

Cooper laughed. “You’ve earned a little seniority.”

“What’s Parker doing?”

Cooper scanned the list. “Scraping the north side of the house. You want to work with him?”

“Nope. I’ll take the south side,” I said, not trusting myself to behave rationally around Parker. If I couldn’t manage my temper, I could at least keep my distance. “Do me a favor and make sure our paths don’t cross, okay?”

Unlike Linc, Cooper didn’t ask for explanations, just nodded. “You got it. Thanks again for last week.”

“Anytime.” I glanced at Trace, feeling a niggle of guilt for being so damn glad they were both here and I didn’t have to step up. “Whenever you guys need some extra time to yourselves, I’m happy to help.”

“We’ll take you up on that,” Trace said. “Won’t we, brat?”

Cooper rolled his eyes. “Trace thinks I work too hard.”

“You do,” I said with a nod.

“Ha! You work just as much as me,” Cooper accused.

I grinned. “Guilty. But right now, I have more work to do.” I jerked a thumb toward the house. “I’m gonna go get started.”

8

PARKER

How was your day?

Like clockwork, BiCurious messaged me around ten Sunday evening. We’d fallen into a pattern of regular texting. I pinged him in the morning, usually before he was awake since I had early workout regimens for the team, and he messaged me at night. He worked late hours on the weekend, so sometimes it was just a quick note while he was on break, but he always checked in.

I lit up like an idiot at those notifications. He had become my touchstone, my point of connection when I felt invisible. I might be one of the most visible players on the Hayworth campus, regularly recognized and greeted by fans, but I had to hide part of who I was with everyone else. Only BiCurious really saw me.

Maybe that’s why I didn’t sugarcoat my response, the way I might have with a random hookup. I had moved beyond trying to impress him. I was honest with him. I liked him. Every day, the yearning for more than friendship grew inside me, but even if this was all I ever had, a confidante on the other side of the screen, BiCurious would remain important to me.

My day was shitty, I wrote. Yours?

Also shitty

We’re twinsies, I joked.

That sounds incestuous.

Only if we have sex.

There was a slight lag before he answered, True.

I couldn’t get a read on his reaction. True, we would likely have sex? True, it wasn’t incestuous because we never would? Obviously, it’d never really be incestuous since I was just cracking a joke about having equally bad days, but now I found myself burning to find out what was going through his mind.

I’d been so careful with him. Careful to flirt, rather than send blatant come-ons. Careful to nudge him into opening up without crossing any boundaries or prying into his personal business. I knew he was guarded, and so was I.

But suddenly I couldn’t go another second without knowing if this was leading anywhere other than friendship.

Heart in my throat, I asked him:

Do you think you’ll ever want to hookup? With me, I mean?

A few minutes elapsed. Shit, had I overstepped? I’d promised to be patient. Asking him a question like that, putting him on the spot was not the way to do that. I didn’t want to be that guy.

Sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I don’t want to push.

Still no answer.

Fuuuuck.

Well, that was a perfect ending to a crappy weekend.

Coach had made us come in for a drill—even though it was Sunday—after dismissing us in disgust last Wednesday, insisting our heads weren’t in the game. He’d put us through our paces, reminding us that full practice with pads started the following Wednesday, and he wanted us on our game when it did.

Granted, my head hadn’t been focused for some time now. But the rest of the guys were working hard. Coach was obviously still pissed about Hangover-mageddon—and we were going to pay the price all year.

Saturday hadn’t been much better. I’d gone to the House Pledge project site as usual on Saturday—only to be ignored by Simon. I don’t even know why that bothered me so much. I should have been glad Simon was no longer handing out jobs; I’d escaped more crap work. But the way he’d kept his distance from me rankled. At least when I was covered in mud, he was laughing.

But why should I care about that? My reactions to him were fucking weird. I didn’t want his abuse, but his disinterest also didn’t sit right.

I opened my dorm fridge and pulled out a Gatorade, drinking it while I gathered my shower supplies. Might as well call an end to the day, I thought with a sigh. I’d been too moody to go out with the guys, and now I felt restless and lonely. I didn’t know what was up with me, except I was tired of everything.

Tired of football taking up ninety percent of my time and energy. Tired of the grudge Simon continued to harbor toward me. Tired of suppressing my sexuality.

I trudged down the hall, intent on showering away my dark mood. If I’d fucked up everything with BiCuriousStud, I didn’t know what I’d do. He’d become so much more than a hookup in the short time we’d been messaging. He’d become the first person I wanted to talk to in the morning, and the last one I wanted to hear from at night.

My stupid dick had probably ruined that, leaving me with nothing but my baffling obsession with Simon.

I showered and dressed, feeling only marginally better when I got back to my room. My phone still sat blank of notifications on my dresser.

I had to fight the urge to apologize to BiCurious again. I’d already said sorry, and I had to let him respond before I sent him a dozen more texts.

I turned out the lights, got into bed, and was reaching for my charging cord when my phone dinged twice in quick succession.

I fumbled it, nearly dropping it in my excitement, then slid my finger to bring up the notifications.

He’d finally replied.

Sorry, I’m at work. Just now got a minute to respond.

To answer your question, I do think about hooking up, but… I don’t know. This is new to me. I like to ease into things, you know?

Oh, thank the baby Jesus. He wasn’t blocking me. He wasn’t even angry. I hadn’t messed everything up. Maybe there was a way to salvage this day after all. Maybe I could help my new friend and unleash my urges just a little. But this time, I’d be careful. I’d make sure he knew I was okay with anything he wanted.

I could help you ease into it if you want. But only if you want.

Ease into it how?

We could start with you telling me what you’d like to do. What do you fantasize about?

There was another lengthy pause, during which I held my breath. I wanted him to say yes so damn badly. I knew I’d have to accept it if he didn’t, but damn, I really wanted to release some of the pent-up desire I felt for him—even if it was only through words. My whole body thrummed with anticipation in those few short moments that I waited for a reply. My skin prickled, my pulse sped up.

I hadn’t ever wanted anyone like this in my entire fucking life. Not even my first boyfriend. Definitely not any of my more recent hookups. Maybe that thought should scare me. I hadn’t even met BiCurious, and I was half-gone over the guy. But maybe that’s why I wanted him so much. Unlike the few guys I’d fooled around with since starting college, I was getting to know him.

He messaged: Can you hold that thought? I’ll be home in about four hours.

My heart lurched, and I actually gasped in surprise. He didn’t say no. He wasn’t rejecting the idea outright. This might really happen.

In four fucking hours. I groaned and palmed my eager dick.

Sure. I’m probably gonna die of blue balls, but I’ll wait for you ;)

Such a romantic, BiCurious snarked, and I laughed out loud.

Staying up until two in the morning would be a stretch for me, but I could make an exception for this. For him.

We’d only been chatting for a couple of weeks, but I already talked to him more than anyone else in my life. And even though he didn’t know my name, or my position on the field, or even my major—he knew the important things. He knew I was a goof and a flirt; he knew I liked to embrace the happy things in life; he knew I doted on my niece, whom everyone called Screech because of the sheer volume of her lungs when she was three.

And I knew him too. I knew he was a little jaded, a bit disillusioned about life. But he was also a loyal friend. He worked hard, did favors for people he thought deserved it, and he was smart. A little reserved, but each day, some of that guard came down, and I saw bits and pieces of his personality.

I liked what I saw. I liked it a lot.

And now, finally, I might get to see a bit more. Not with photos or video just yet. I didn’t want to push him too far too fast. But I’d get to peek inside his head, preview his fantasies, and discover how compatible we might be.

I’ll just be here, naked, in bed…

He responded in his typical fashion: You’re such a fucker.

Then, before I could worry he might actually be bothered, he added: You’ll pay for this later.

Oh, hell yeah. That is one price I am happy to pay.

* * *

SIMON

What do you fantasize about?

HotPan’s question to me circled my head all evening as I finished up my shift and closed the bar with Rhett. What would I do with HotPan if I had him in front of me right now?

I was a simple guy. I’d kiss him. I’d kiss the shit out of HotPan, kiss him hard and wet and dirty. I’d push him against a wall, pull his bottom lip between my teeth, and make him gasp.

And…that’s where my mind went blank.

Kissing.

It wasn’t exactly going to win me any sexting awards. For all I knew, HotPan wouldn’t even want to kiss. Some guys were just about getting off and getting gone. He’d stuck around, chatting with me, becoming a friend. So, he probably wanted more, right?

But that thought only set my pulse racing more. Was I ready for that? Ready for a boyfriend?

Get over yourself, Prentiss. He asked for a fantasy, not a commitment.

Round and round my thoughts went until finally I got back to my room, heart racing and cock half hard before I’d even texted him. I changed into some pajama bottoms and climbed into bed before typing out a message with shaking fingers.

Home finally.

He didn’t answer immediately. Shit. What if I’d worked myself up and he’d fallen asleep? Asking a guy to wait up for me was a dick move. I knew he was an early riser. I used to be too, before my job at Tracks demanded otherwise.

Yesss. I’m awake, barely.

My heart sank. If you want to do this another time, it’s cool.

Are you insane? I’ve had a hard-on for four hours.

I snorted, some of my tension easing at his words. He still wanted this, then. Still wanted me. Fuck knew why. I wasn’t sure what a bi-curious, cautious, guarded guy could really offer someone as sweet as HotPan. He’d never poked and prodded me about my sexuality or determining what I really wanted.

Sounds like you need medical attention, I joked, stalling for time. I wanted this, but I was also nervous.

I might have exaggerated a little, he admitted, but I do need some attention.

So, he added when I took too long to respond, are you going to share a fantasy with me? I really want to know what you like.

I want to know too…

That was a joke, btw, I added.

Just pretend I’m there with you. What’s your first move?

Oh, crap. Now I was in the hot seat. My cheeks flamed even though he couldn’t see me. I considered the thoughts that had been flitting through my mind, the thoughts that had led me to this app in the first place. I couldn’t lead with the kissing thing. That would make me feel like a sappy idiot. So, I considered what I liked about the idea of being with another guy. The images that popped into my head occasionally.

It sounds dumb to write it out, but I just want to feel another man’s body against mine. I keep thinking about how hard it would be.

Do you want this man to pin you down? Overpower you?

He can try. And then I can do the same to him.

A wrestling match? Nice. Tell me more.

I want to touch him. Know what it’s like to hold another cock in my hand. Hear a deep groan when I stroke him.

I’d love for you to stroke me. I’ve got my cock out right now.

My heart sped up.

He continued. Are you touching yourself?

I glanced down at my hand inside my pajama pants, squeezing my cock. Fuck. Yes.

My cock is seven inches, slender. It feels soft in my hand, but when I squeeze, I’m hard as steel. You made me that way. Your words.

My breath rasped harshly as I worked myself.

Here’s a picture of what you do to me.

My breath caught in my throat. There was an attachment. I hesitated to open it. Will I recognize you?

Only if you’ve seen my cock before.

I clicked the image, and a large cock filled my screen. A hand held it at the base, pointing it toward the camera. Long and slender, just like he’d said. It was flushed a deep red and beaded with moisture at the tip.

This was somehow different from all those other dick pics I’d gotten unsolicited. This was part of an exchange, a flow of sexy talk and stimulus back and forth. I gazed at HotPan’s cock with a fascination I hadn’t felt for any random pics I’d seen. I was interested because it was him.

I licked my dry lips. Nice

Want to show me yours?

Heart hammering, I navigated to my camera app. Shoving down my pajama bottoms, I pulled out my cock and took a quick snap. I sent it without looking at it, before I could change my mind. There was a long moment of silence between us. My heart raced the entire time, my cock still hard and throbbing in my hand. I forced myself not to finish until he was talking to me again.

Jesus Christ, I want that in my mouth.

I groaned, fisting my cock again. Pumping. Imagining the scene he was setting with his words.

There’s no place I love to be more than on my knees. I’d suck you, and then I’d come with the taste of your cum still on my tongue.

That was it. My body arched, and I came hard in my hand.

I shuddered and shook through it, overwhelmed for a few minutes by the blinding pleasure. There was something powerful about knowing that I came to a man’s words. Even if he wasn’t really in this room with me, he’d still been calling the plays. Even if I couldn’t see anything but his dick pic, he’d made me imagine a man on his knees and a generous, hot mouth sucking me hard.

You okay? Too much?

I caught my breath and finally returned his message.

Yeah, it was too much. You made me come all over myself.

Pic?

What the hell? I’d already showed him my dick, right? I angled my camera and sent over the shot of my cum smeared over my lower belly.

When he replied, all he said was, Fuck, you got me all messy too.

Even after all that we’d shared, I couldn’t bring myself to ask for another pic. It felt like too much. My head was spinning. A screen might have separated us, but I’d gotten off with a man for the first time. That had really happened.

I think I’m going to call it a night, I said, too wrung out for more.

You’re okay, though? With everything?

I’m okay. I hesitated. It was a lot though. I need to process.

Okay, goodnight then. I’m pretty sure I’m going to sleep great after that.

I laughed, feeling lighter. He wasn’t making it weird. He wasn’t pushing. I liked that about him. He took what I offered, and he asked for things he wanted, but he accepted my answers. If I hadn’t wanted to pursue this tonight, he would have backed off.

But I was glad I’d done it.

There was no question now. I wanted to explore this side of me. I wanted to experience the things I’d shared with him.

A hard body against mine. Strength to match my own. The heft and weight of a hard cock in my hand. And now, thanks to him, I wanted a man on his knees, sucking me down.

9

PARKER

I was still floating on happy endorphins Monday morning. The lack of sleep didn’t even faze me. The afterglow of sexting with BiCuriousStud and the great sleep following a more satisfying climax than I’d had in ages had more than made up for it.

“Someone’s peppy,” Cruz said as I joined the guys in our private gym for our regular workout before classes. “You get laid, Reed?”

“That why you been ditching us?” Johnston called out. “You got a booty call that’s more important than your teammates? I’m hurt.”

“I haven’t been ditching anyone,” I protested as I crossed the room to the weights.

“You haven’t gone to a party in two weeks,” Hinkel pointed out.

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Mom.”

Hinkel reddened. “I just meant—”

Johnston threw a beefy arm over Hinkel’s shoulder. “The kid is right. You’ve been off doing your own thing.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Or maybe doing your new thing? Who is she, huh? Have we met her?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Uh-huh.” He couldn’t have sounded more skeptical.

I rolled my eyes, grumbling, “Whatever, guys. It’s too early for this shit.”

My bad mood didn’t linger. Not with memories of BiCuriousStud so fresh in my mind. Just calling up the pic he’d sent me of his cock, even with the crappy lighting and angle, was enough to make my mouth water. He hadn’t exactly been the Casanova of sexting, but there was something extra sweet about watching his inhibitions lower.

“Okay, guys, enough chit-chat.” Martinez clapped his hands. “Let’s get to work.”

Martinez supervised our workouts to ensure we pushed ourselves hard enough but not so hard we strained ourselves. It was a delicate balance.

He glanced up as I neared. “Pause squats today, Reed.”

Great. I fucking detested pause squats. He smiled evilly. The fucker knew it too. But you didn’t get to be the strength and training coach unless you were a bit of a sadist.

I gave him a lazy salute, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a groan of dismay, and set to assembling the barbell and weights. A pause squat meant I’d be lifting weight over my shoulders, while also dropping into a squat, pausing in a full stop, then driving upward while maintaining control.

Martinez nodded approvingly and turned to Hinkel. “We need to push you a bit more if you want to step up next season. I want to see you on band-resisted vertical jumps today.”

Hinkel looked like an excited puppy. “Really? You think I might get more opportunities next season?”

Despite being a wide receiver, he was still young, and he didn’t get as many passes from the QB as better-positioned receivers with more experience.

For the next twenty minutes, we were all focused on our workouts. There were grunts and groans. Pause squats took damn near everything I had, but I did have a good view of the room. A few of the linebackers spotted for each other at the bench press, making casual conversation. And Hinkel was still speaking between jumps like a little Energizer bunny, excited by what Martinez had said about next season.

“If you really want to up your game, you need to learn from Reed,” Johnston said. He’d taken Hinkel under his wing, teaching him the ways of the jock: mostly how to drink without making himself sick, how to pick up girls at parties, and how to do just well enough academically to stay on the team. “With Cortez graduating, our boy is going to be top in the conference. Shit, we might actually get to see someone from Hayworth get drafted.”

Hinkel looked awed. “Really? He’s that good?”

I finished my rep set, taking a breather. “Not fucking likely.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Reed,” Johnston called. “You stepped up in a big way last season.”

I didn’t like the reminder. I’d stepped up because Simon was injured, then because he was gone—leaving a fucking void on the team. A void I still didn’t feel adequate to fill.

“Prentiss was better.”

Martinez had drifted closer at some point. “Prentiss was a damn good wide receiver,” he said. “But you and Prentiss are different players. You have a completely different approach. Prentiss was a workhorse, and you’re…”

“A lazy bastard?” I joked.

The guys laughed, and Martinez shook his head, lips quirking. “You’re raw talent, Reed. If you put in half the work Prentiss did, you would get a look from the NFL scouts.”

“Hayworth isn’t exactly known for pumping out NFL’ers, no offense.”

Martinez chuckled. “Maybe not. But Coach has a few contacts at regional teams. The Chiefs, the Cowboys.”

I grabbed my bottle of water and drank, knowing that my break would be short-lived. I had at least two more sets of pause squats to get through.

“Leavens got drafted six years ago,” Cruz pointed out.

“And Smith got signed to an undrafted agency,” Johnston said. “That was, what, only four years ago?”

Martinez nodded. “It’s a long shot. But hell, you’ve got as good a chance as anybody if you lead the conference, Reed. Why do you think Coach has been riding your ass so hard?”

“I thought he was pissed about us being hungover a few weeks back?”

“Oh, he was.” Martinez laughed. “So pissed. Because you’re not focused. Because he knows next season could be the best this school has seen in a long time, but only if you guys work for it.”

My gut clenched as my teammates all promised to buckle down. Martinez’s words motivated them. Hell, even the possibility I could be drafted—as unlikely as that was to pass—drove them to push themselves.

They returned to their workouts with a new determination, a group of athletes giving it everything to excel.

So, why couldn’t I muster up any enthusiasm?

Instead, dread tightened my chest and weighed on me as heavily as the plates on my barbell. All my happy sex endorphins leaked out of me like a deflated balloon.

When we’d finished the workout, Martinez pulled me aside while the rest of the guys headed for the locker room.

“Want to talk about it?” His eyes were sharp, knowing.

I shrugged. “What’s there to talk about?”

“Most guys would be jumping for joy to hear they might have a real shot at the pros. But not you.”

I smiled, though my heart wasn’t in it. I wasn’t about to confess to one of the coaching staff that I felt apathetic about the most important sport in their lives.

“That would be amazing. I guess it’s just hard for me to believe.”

Martinez studied me for another long minute. “Uh-huh. Well, believe it, kid. You’ve got what it takes, but only if you work for it.”

I nodded. “The way Prentiss did. You think he’d be the one with draft prospects if not for what happened?”

Martinez sighed. “So that’s what’s going on. Survivor guilt, huh?” He smiled grimly. “Prentiss got a shit deal, but he made his bed, Reed. You’re not responsible for his actions.”

I felt responsible, considering I’d shown up to that party with his ex-girlfriend.

“But to answer your question, no,” he said. “I don’t think Prentiss would get any looks.”

“Why not? You said yourself he put in the work.”

Martinez shrugged. “Too injury-prone,” he said. “Not quite the same field presence. It’s hard to explain, Reed. But even if Prentiss hadn’t left the team, you would have surpassed him.”

I shook my head. “I don’t believe that.”

“Well, regardless, Coach Jackson has put his faith in you. Maybe it’s time you do the same.”

I felt sick. The guys were so fucking excited by the idea of a great season ahead. The coaching staff had put their faith in me. And all I could think about was escaping the pressure and expectation.

But how could I leave my teammates, my friends who’d always had my back? That seemed like the worst kind of betrayal.

* * *

SIMON

My sister called me while I was at the bar to pick up my paycheck before heading to House Pledge on Saturday. I’d had a great week of texting with HotPan22, including a lot more sexual innuendo. We’d sexted again too, but he was letting me lead, and I was still a little tentative.

I’d never been timid about sex, but putting what I wanted into words was more difficult than I would have expected. I was the type of guy to take action, not waste my breath on dirty talk. But HotPan? He was a master, winding me up so good that I came as hard as if he were right there in the room with me.

I tugged my phone from my pocket, answering Chelsea’s call while I glared down at my meager earnings. Even with that extra shift, I’d cleared less than three hundred dollars in two weeks. I really needed to improve my flirting game and bring in more tips.

I didn’t have to worry about housing expenses, thanks to the frat. I mainly had to pay for incidentals like food and toiletries. My mom had insisted on keeping me and Chelsea on her phone plan, even if she couldn’t do much more. That meant I could send a little more than half of my paycheck to my grandparents to sock away for Chelsea.

That was barely a drop in the bucket when it came to repaying the money they’d loaned me to make it through my final semester at Hayworth.

“Hey, Chels. What’s up?”

“Just checking in. Seeing how the college boy is doing.”

My gut churned with guilt. “Good. Just picking up a paycheck. I’ll send half of it to Grandma and Grandpa.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know.”

My jaw tightened. “Yeah, I do.”

It was the same song and dance I’d gotten from my grandparents. I knew they didn’t want me to feel the burden of paying them back. But why should Chelsea pay for my mistakes?

“No, really,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about my plans.”

“What’s that mean?” I asked warily.

“Culinary school is kind of…a leap, you know? I’ve been working at this little bistro, and I’ve gotten some really good experience. There’s this online program I found that’s about half the cost—”

“Chels, no,” I cut in. “No fucking way.”

“I’d still get the training and degree,” she said. “And I could do it all without leaving home. Joey needs me. I can’t fly off to some fancy school and just leave him. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

I softened, realizing this was about more than just the money. More than just my fuckup. “You were thinking that you’ve got family to help you. You don’t have to go to Paris, but come on, you want more than some online degree that chefs roll their eyes at, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“This is your lifelong dream. I know you don’t want to be the next Gordon Ramsay and work at Michelin-star, glamorous restaurants, but you still love working with food, right?”

“Yeah, I do. But I have to be realistic. You knew you weren’t going to make the NFL, right? This is the same thing. Dreams change. They have to. Otherwise, we’re bound to go through life in a fog of disappointment. I don’t need a prestigious degree some snooty chef will respect. I’m not going to the big leagues. I want to find a way to pursue my love of food right here, without sacrificing time with Joey.”

“What do you mean, I wasn’t going to make the NFL?” I joked. “You wound me.”

Well, it wasn’t entirely a joke. A tiny part of me had wished, even when I knew how unrealistic it was. But even knowing I’d have to give up playing, it was easier said than done. Some days, I missed it so much I ached. But it had never been a choice for me. Maybe I was struggling to accept my sister’s decision because I never would have made the same one.

“Sorry,” she said lightly. “I mean, you’d have been drafted if it were up to me. You definitely worked hard enough to deserve it.”

I sighed. “So have you. I just don’t want to be the reason you’re holding back.”

“You’re not, I promise.”

“Then you have to do what’s right for you,” I said. “I should go. I’ve got a check to mail Grandma and Grandpa.”

“But Simon, I just explained why that wasn’t necessary.”

“Agree to disagree,” I said, clicking off before she could try to change my mind.

Maybe Chelsea really would pursue a more affordable program. Or maybe she’d change her mind once the financial hardship didn’t weigh so heavily. Either way, I’d cost my family more than I ever intended—and I wouldn’t feel right until I’d repaid their generosity.

If Chelsea didn’t need the money for school or business start-up costs when she finally got the opportunity to open her own restaurant, then my grandparents could use it to fatten up their retirement fund.

Which is where the money belonged anyway.

If not for my father’s irresponsible actions, they’d have a nice little nest egg to last the rest of their lives, instead of using it to take care of his kids.

I went by the post office, still in a dark mood—and not only because I felt guilty about Chelsea’s plans. It would have been easier for her to go to school years ago, while Joey was a baby, but I’d gotten my stupid football scholarship and we’d agreed as a family that I’d go first, then help support Chelsea when it was her turn.

A few of the things Chelsea had said to me had burrowed under my skin. That dreams had to change. That the NFL had never really been my future—which, okay, I knew that. But there was knowing, and then there was hearing someone else say it aloud.

I had accepted I wouldn’t go pro. I had a plan for my future. With a sports management degree, I could find a job managing an athletic department or recreation league. I didn’t have to give up sports entirely. But I felt disconnected from that path. I’d spent so much time being a player, defining myself as an athlete, that now I felt like a puppet who’d just had its strings cut.

All the energy and passion I’d channeled into my sport had nowhere to go.

I feared that, unlike Chelsea, who seemed happy to adapt to her changing situation, I might be lost in a fugue of disappointment for the rest of my life.

Thankfully, my phone chimed, distracting me from my dark thoughts.

This is one of those days I’d like to call in sick to life.

Despite everything, I grinned to see the message from HotPan. How was it that even as virtual strangers who’d never met face-to-face, we always seemed to be on the same page?

That bad, huh?

HotPan22: Worse

BiCuriousStud: Maybe I’ll play hooky with you. I’ve had a crappy morning, and I’m not looking forward to the rest of my day

HotPan22: You too, huh? Maybe we could hide out together...

My heart lurched. I liked him—a lot—and the tentative sexting we’d begun had been great too. But taking it offline added a whole new layer of pressure. What if it ruined the magic? We had a great thing going. Then again, what if not meeting him cost me everything? He might grow tired of waiting.

He’d been a patient guy, but everyone had their limit.

I can’t today, I told him, not quite ready to promise anything. More of that expectations crap.

Yeah, me too.

You’re stuck doing a favor for a friend that sucks donkey balls?

*snort* More like I’m trying to do myself a favor. Get to a better place with someone.

There’s that people pleasing again.

HotPan22: Guilty…maybe we can meet up some other time? Even if it’s just as friends?

I hesitated. There was really only one answer I could give.

HotPan had become my confidante, willing to listen anytime I wanted to vent about my day. He shared little jokes and memes that made me laugh.

If I were going to explore this side of me, get to know a man intimately, this guy was the right choice.

Yeah, I typed. Sometime soon.

Awesome. You just made my day.

I puffed up, chest swelling at the thought of making him happy. Maybe there was something to this people-pleasing crap.

Don’t take too much grief from whoever you’re trying to make nice with, I tapped out. You deserve better than that.

Thanks. You’re a good guy too.

I wasn’t so sure about that, but it was good to know I’d convinced someone. Maybe if HotPan believed it, and my family believed it, eventually I’d be able to live up to their expectations.

10

PARKER

The sun was so bright in the sky the following Saturday that I had to squint when I approached Simon. He’d given me the silent treatment the past two weeks, but I didn’t see Cooper anywhere.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

Simon was always stoic, but with the sunglasses on his face I really couldn’t read his expression. He shifted on his feet. Nervous? Impatient?

“Cooper’s got a family birthday to celebrate. Linc has a study group conflict. Aaron fucked off because he’s an irresponsible asshat. Zach—”

“I get it,” I said before he could go through an entire list of names I barely recognized. “Is it just us, then?”

“Zach is running late,” he said, his tone letting me know he didn’t appreciate the interruption. “He’s bringing a friend with him. So we’ll have a little help.”

I rolled my lips in, resisting the urge to poke the bear. Simon was so very poke-worthy though. My restraint didn’t hold.

“Guess you can’t avoid me today.”

He didn’t respond. Shit. Would he hold his silence even if we were working side-by-side? I hurried to add, “Where do you want me, boss?”

His lips twitched. Was that almost a smile on Simon Prentiss’s face? Impossible.

“We’re finally painting today. Just the ground floor.”

“Hallelujah,” I exclaimed. “If I had to scrape again…”

Simon snorted. “Maybe you need to hit the gym, Reed. Work those arms.”

“I work out plenty,” I grumbled.

Simon turned toward me, tipping his head to look at me over his glasses. The up-down glance he gave me made goosebumps prickle my skin. “Running a bit lean for regular workouts,” he said.

“Oh, fuck you!” I said with a laugh.

Most wide receivers ran toward the lean end of the body build spectrum. Simon had a bit more bulk than me, but nowhere near as much as the linebackers.

Simon still didn’t give me a smile. He just slid his sunglasses back into place, cool as you please, and led me to the section of the house where he’d already gotten out the paint buckets, paint trays, and rollers.

I looked up at the large, two-story home. “This is going to take ages to finish with rollers. Did you guys consider a sprayer?”

Simon nodded. “We did. But between cost, tool assembly, and training, it seemed easier and faster to get a big group of us painting by hand. It may be worth a long-term investment, though, if we get many of these monstrosities.”

I knelt down to pry open a bucket of paint, sloshing it into the tray. The color was a surprising mint green. I’d expected something more along the lines of beige or gray. As I poured too fast, the paint sloshed up the sides and nearly splashed Simon. He leaned back so quickly he nearly ass-planted.

I smirked. “Pretty sweet.”

“Yeah, I like green,” he said, and I didn’t bother to clarify I meant watching Simon flail for balance, body flexing. The nice weather meant he was dressed down in basketball shorts and a T-shirt, and his toned arms and thighs were on display. Damn, maybe he had a point about my workouts. How did Simon Prentiss have better muscle definition than me when he wasn’t even on the team anymore? “We split the difference between a long-lasting color and something that would give the home an updated feel.”

It was the most Simon had said to me in weeks. I was too stunned to engage properly. Well that, and my eyes were too busy eating up the view as he pushed to his feet, bare thighs straining as he straightened to his full height. I lifted my gaze, swallowing hard as I traced those legs up to the hems of his shorts, the subtle bulge at the crotch, then the form-fitting T-shirt that stretched tight across his chest.

Voices drifted across the yard, catching Simon’s attention, thankfully. I’d probably end up with another fist to the face if Simon noticed me eyeing him up like a prime fillet. But damn, the asshole was gorgeous.

“Get started without me,” he said.

I was pretty sure I already had. Oh yeah, my inner temperature was starting to climb all on its own.

With a sigh of longing, I slid a roller in the paint tray, rocking it back and forth to absorb paint on all sides, then began rolling it onto the side of the house. I needed to get laid soon, or else I was gonna start thinking that Simon was a viable option. I’d open my mouth, flirt at the wrong moment, and end up on my ass.

Simon is not for you, Parker. He hates your guts, remember?

I painted until my roller was too dry, then crouched to roll it through the tray once more.

Sliding out my phone, I sent a text to BiCuriousStud.

I really wish you’d decided to play hooky with me.

A few seconds later, my phone dinged with a reply. Me too, man. Hindsight is 20/20?

Biting down on my lips, heart rabbiting, I decided to push a little. How about some foresight then. Meet me tonight?

Quickly, lest I scare him off, I added, It can be as friends. I just want to put a face to the name.

I stilled, roller in hand, as I waited for an answer.

“Why aren’t you working?” Simon’s voice came from just behind me, close enough his breath gusted over my neck. It startled me, making me jump, and I whirled toward him without thinking. My mind was on the phone in my right hand, not the paint roller in my left.

As I turned, I smacked it right into his right shoulder, then my movement carried it in a downward diagonal toward his left hip.

For a second, we both stared at the mint green streaking across his pale blue T-shirt. When he looked up, he was glaring, and I almost wished he still wore the sunglasses. Instead, they held back his hair, only intensifying his stern look.

“What. The. Fuck. Reed!”

I cringed a little, grinning awkwardly as I hastily put down the roller. “Oops?”

“Oh, you’re so dead,” he said.

I flinched, closing my eyes. Waiting for a punch. Instead, cold, wet goo trickled over my head. I gasped, eyes flying open.

Simon stood smirking, shaking the paint roller over my head.

“My fucking hair!” I shouted, outraged. Simon laughed, sounding the definition of evil—and that’s when I lost all good sense.

Stooping, I scooped my hands through the paint in the tray and flung it directly at Simon’s smug, arrogant face.

* * *

SIMON

Oh, hell no.

I dodged as Parker flung paint at me, turned my wrist, and swiped my paint roller down his front. I may have been a smidge too aggressive, knocking him back against the house he’d just been painting. His eyes widened, that indignant expression on his face once more, as paint soaked into the back of his T-shirt while I streaked the front.

“You fucker!”

There was something about that look that sent exhilaration through me. We’d been through the wringer, Parker and me. I’d punched him and lost everything; he’d wallowed in the mud for me, accepting a punishment he probably didn’t really deserve. But nothing compared to this moment. Parker wasn’t the kind of guy to ruffle easily. He always wore a stupid grin and acted as if nothing fazed him.

I’d always wondered, what the hell would it take to wipe that smirk off Parker’s face?

Well, now I knew. Paint in the hair. Paint on the clothes.

He lifted his hands, maybe to push me away, and I slapped more paint over his palm. He retaliated by reaching for my hair, but I caught his wrist. For a moment, we both strained, locked in a struggle for dominance.

I kept him from reaching my hair, but his palm slapped against the side of my neck, just under my jaw.

“Oh good, I can finally strangle you,” he muttered.

I laughed in spite of myself. I liked this side of Parker, this aggressive, determined edge I’d never seen before—even on the football field.

His hand twitched against my neck, as if he really might strangle me. I had the strangest urge to encourage him to do it.

Our eyes locked, his a bright blue. Sometimes blue eyes could look cold, but never Parker’s. Usually his were light, fun, playful. Never serious. Just now, though? They burned into me, intense and questioning.

There was the sound of an engine pulling into the drive. It broke me from our stand-off, and I jerked back, knocking his hand from my neck as if his touch had offended rather than confused me. My nerves still sparked under my skin.

“What are you guys doing? That’s wet paint!”

Parker and I both glanced down at our clothes as Cooper approached, trailed by Trace. But it soon became apparent that he wasn’t concerned with our paint-stained clothing and skin, but the mess we’d made against the side of the house.

“Seriously, you guys?” Cooper said. “This paint costs money. This is a nonprofit venture. We can’t afford to waste it on…on…” He gestured helplessly at the paint all over both of us and the smeared, blotted paint where Parker had slammed against the house moments before. Thanks to me.

“He fucking nailed me with a paint roller,” I said, feeling guilty.

“It was an accident!” Parker protested. “But then he purposely got paint in my hair.”

“I always knew you were a vain asshole.”

“Please, you’re the narcissist, making everything about you.”

I opened my mouth to fire again, but a heavy hand fell on my shoulder, squeezing. I winced, looking up at Trace.

“Enough arguing like children,” he said with a stern look. “Clean up this mess and try to make use of your time. Like Cooper said, we have limited supplies.” He scuffed a foot through a mass of paint on the grass—probably the paint Parker had attempted to fling at me in retaliation. “Let’s get to work.”

“Sorry,” Parker mumbled. “I can buy more.”

I scoffed. “Of course you can.”

“What? You want to judge me for trying to help a charity now?” He threw up his hands. “I can’t win with you, can I?”

I looked him dead in the eye. “Nope.”

Before Trace could chastise us again, I knelt down to pour more paint into the depleted paint tray and picked up the second roller, which hadn’t been used yet. Once again, I’d let myself lose all control where Parker was concerned. What the hell was wrong with me?

“Maybe Parker should paint another section of the house,” I said without looking up. “I can handle the cleanup here.”

Cooper sighed. “That might not be a bad idea. Trace, you stay here? I’ll take Parker with me.”

“All right,” Trace grumbled. “I swear, I ought to spank all your asses.”

Cooper slapped his arm. “Hey!”

Trace flashed him a grin. “I’d never do that, of course. One brat is enough for me.”

He swooped down to kiss Cooper, and I turned my focus to repairing the damage Parker and I had done. I could do without the visuals of them kissing. Thanks to Trace’s words, I was already having difficulty blocking out the images forming of Trace laying Cooper over his knee like a naughty boy.

Jesus Christ. I really needed to get laid.

When I got a spare moment, I pulled out my phone. HotPan had suggested meeting up, and I’d been hesitant to agree. But with the weird moment between Parker and me burning in my gut, and strangely erotic images of Cooper and Trace together, I knew I needed to get out of my head and finally give my body what it wanted.

Meet me tonight. I tend bar at Tracks. Come by at closing time.

I stared at the words I’d typed for a long time, then gathering all my courage, I hit send.

11

PARKER

Tracks sat squished between a used bookstore and a retro clothing shop, both of which were closed. Across the street, another bar—this one larger with an outdoor patio lit up like Christmas—buzzed with activity despite the late hour. Voices and laughter drifted through the night, inviting and friendly.

Instead of joining them, I turned toward the plain metal door that led into a small dive bar that hosted local bands. I’d been in there once or twice when they had a band worth seeing. That didn’t happen every week, or even every month.

Tonight, I didn’t care about their music. The band would be long gone by now anyway. My only concern as I stepped inside was the man I would finally meet.

BiCuriousStud. I’d finally learn who he was. Get his proper name and see his face. If I was lucky, maybe even more.

My heart skipped.

That he’d trusted me with his place of employment meant a lot. It was a bar, so it wasn’t like the public didn’t come and go, but if I was an asshole, he might regret giving me that information. I’d almost scolded him for telling me. But my hookup was innocent to the ways of men. Judging by his behavior the past few weeks, I wasn’t sure he’d ever used a hookup app—even with women. If he looked half as good as his pictures hinted, he probably hadn’t needed to work for attention.

The floor was sticky with spilled booze. A few pub tables were positioned around the edges of a small room. Up front, a platform stage took up the north wall. A small dance floor/audience space was directly before it. The bar was a straight line to my left.

I started in that direction, eyes landing on a cute guy handling liquor bottles like a pro. The lights gleamed off his highlighted hair. His angular face was handsome, his jaw strong and dusted with stubble. He was good-looking, but he wasn’t quite right. His body didn’t match up to the pics I’d seen, did it? He could have posted fakes, but why bother? He was sexy enough in his own right, lean and toned and tight.

Then a door opened behind him, and I gasped. A tall, broad-shouldered hunk with silky dark hair stepped out.

It had to be him.

He was carrying two boxes, partially obscuring his face, and his biceps bulged as he crossed behind the bartender. He bent to put them down, releasing a grunt of relief.

“Fuck me,” he said with a groan—and I instantly knew.

I had a nanosecond to decide what to do. The cute bartender turned to me. “Sorry. You missed last call.”

“I know, I…”

The other guy’s head whipped up at my voice and our eyes locked. Staring straight into the intense stare of Simon Prentiss, I said, “I’m just here to meet a friend.”

SIMON

This couldn’t be happening. Parker Reed? Parker Reed was my Thrust match? No, I refused to believe it.

“There must be some mistake,” I growled.

He didn’t back down. Parker wasn’t the type. But for once, his obnoxious grin was absent.

“No mistake. A surprise, for sure.”

I turned to Rhett, who was watching us with the fascination of a driver gawking at an accident scene. “I’ll close up if you let me take care of this.”

“Yeah, sure. Bar’s done serving. Knock yourself out, just...clean up the blood before you leave.” He cut his eyes toward Parker. “Whoever you are, I wish you the best.”

He exited the bar through a little section of counter that raised up, creating a gap. I held it open for Parker, jerking my chin toward the back room. “Let’s go.”

Parker chuckled nervously as he passed through the bar entrance, brushing against my chest. I could feel his body warmth, smell his aftershave, an earthy natural scent that suited him.

Heart pounding, I led him into the back room. Surrounded by boxes of liquor and kegs of beer, I whirled on him. “Did you know?”

“Wh-what?”

Parker appeared off-balance. Usually he was a smooth fucker.

“Were you playing me?” I demanded, crowding him against a stack of boxes. We were close to the same size, but I didn’t let it stop me from putting every ounce of threat I could into my voice.

“No!” The word burst from him, sounding incredulous. “How would I know it was you? We never shared personal stuff.”

“So it’s a coincidence?” I said skeptically.

“Yes. It’s a really awkward coincidence that the guy I—” His voice cracked, and he looked away. “I didn’t know.”

“Look me in the eye when you say it.”

Parker reluctantly looked at me, frustration blazing. “You’re such an asshole sometimes, Prentiss.”

A shocked laugh burst out. “Really?”

“Yeah, I know I screwed up, okay? I never should have gone to that party with Kristin. And obviously we wouldn’t be here if you knew it was me on that app. But you don’t have to interrogate me like a fucking criminal.”

A whole series of memories hit me. All those flirty chats. Those sexts that Parker had so patiently walked me through. I’d thought he was the nicest guy on the planet.

“Fuck me,” I muttered, looking away.

“Please stop saying that,” Parker said in a strangled voice.

I jerked my eyes back to his face in time to see a look of such lust it shot heat through my entire body. “What?”

“Fucking you is all I’ve thought about for weeks.” He laughed weakly. “Joke’s on me, huh?”

I couldn’t stop my eyes from making a slow perusal of his body. It was dark, but I could make out the shape of him. I knew how fit he was. Knew because we had practically the same body, the way we’d pushed ourselves in training. He was of a slightly leaner build than me, more flexible. I knew his body intimately too. A series of pics from his profile, and even more illicit ones he’d sent me directly, had filled in any blanks I might have had.

His chest rose and fell faster. When I raised my gaze to his face, he dragged the tip of his tongue over his dry lips.

And I lost it.

There was no thought, no reasoning. I’d spent weeks dipping my toe in the water, testing, evaluating. But now I was in the deep end.

I was ready to swim. Or maybe I’d drown. But if I did, I was taking us both down.

I crushed my mouth to his, shoving him harder into the boxes, and he grasped at my waist for balance, gripping hard enough to hurt. The pain only fueled my need. I grabbed his hair, short on the sides but longer on top, and yanked his head back to better devour his mouth.

Weeks of buildup, of flirting with my bisexuality and tempting myself to no end, exploded in a fiery inferno of need.

I didn’t care if it was Parker. I didn’t care that he was a man I’d blamed and detested. In some ways, it made it easier.

This wasn’t the love connection I thought it might be. It was unbridled lust, and I was just getting started.

* * *

PARKER

Simon kissed like he played football.

Intense. Focused. Single-minded.

His mouth was hard on mine, just like I’d imagined it would be the few times I’d allowed myself to picture kissing him instead of something more violent. He gripped my hair, pushed his tongue inside. At first, I was too stunned to do more than withstand the onslaught.

Simon had been so angry I’d thought he might punch me again. Instead, he was turning me inside out. My blood ran hot, my cock stiffened, and I was sure I’d die if I didn’t touch him. My brain, still overwhelmed with the force that was Simon Prentiss, slowly clicked on enough for me to respond.

I slid my hands under his shirt, traveling over hot, firm skin, and thrust my hips forward, grinding against him. Simon moaned against my mouth.

Still rubbing deliciously against his firm body, I moved my lips to his ear. “Are we doing this, Prentiss?”

His body went rigid. Fuck, maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. But despite everything, despite his hostility and resentment, I remembered that he was also still the sweet guy from the app. The one who’d never done this before. The one who’d been slowly exploring his sexuality with me online.

“I want to,” I murmured, continuing to stroke my hands over his tight muscles. “I really want to do everything we talked about. Remember? You wanted to see my cock, feel it. I wanted to taste yours—”

“Fucking shut up,” Simon ground out between his teeth. At the same time, he put a hand on my shoulder and shoved down.

I went to my knees hard, but face to face with Simon’s bulging jeans, I didn’t care about the unnecessary roughness. I looked up, ready to agree, when I saw him gazing steadfastly at the wall across the room.

“Look at me,” I ordered.

Surprisingly, he obeyed without a word. His gaze cut to mine, intense enough to send a shiver down my spine. I was planning to ask if he wanted this, but I could see it in his face. He was starving for it.

Without looking away, he reached down and yanked open the button of his jeans. He unzipped and drew out his cock. Saliva pooled in my mouth, and I finally tore my gaze from his so that I could look at what he’d exposed. He was not terribly long, but thick, circumcised with a blunt mushroom head.

I’d seen Simon’s cock in the pics we’d shared, but this was different. This time, I could smell his scent, could feel the warmth emanating from him.

This was real.

Simon grabbed my hair and pulled me forward. I let him push his cock against my lips.

“Open that big mouth of yours and suck me.”

I started to laugh, but Simon thrust forward, and his cock pressed through my parted lips. My laugh turned into an appreciative moan as his flavor burst over my tongue. I’d wanted this man in my mouth for ages, even if it took this moment for me to fully realize it. Simon, the intensely passionate football player. And BiCuriousStud, the sensitive, uncertain guy I’d met online. I’d wanted them both, equally, and now I had them in one package.

It was still difficult to reconcile the two as Simon thrust, holding my head tightly, taking what he wanted from me. It wasn’t at all how I’d pictured the first time with BiCurious. But it was good, so fucking good. The velvety steel length of him—pushing ever deeper into my mouth and nudging my throat—silenced my chaotic thoughts.

“Fuck me,” Simon groaned again, and this time his voice was soaked with pleasure. I glanced up to see his eyes riveted on me. With one finger, he traced my lips. It was a gentle touch, contrasting with the rough way he’d shoved me to my knees. “Gonna let me come in this pretty mouth?”

I hummed my answer, taking him deeper, as I reached down to fumble open my jeans and tug out my cock. I was desperate for relief.

Simon thrust deeper, choking me, as he barked a broken shout of release. His cum shot down my throat, and I swallowed convulsively. Spots danced in my eyes as I went too long without oxygen.

When he pulled free, I gasped for air, still stroking my own cock frantically.

“That’s it,” Simon urged. “Let me see you shoot.”

Every muscle wound tighter and tighter. I was close, so close.

Then Simon grabbed my hair, tugging my head back as he bent and kissed me deep and dirty.

And I was gone.

I cried out against his mouth, his wet tongue sliding along mine, surely tasting his own cum, as I came over my hand.

* * *

SIMON

Oh, fucking fuck.

That had really happened. Sex with a man. Sex with Parker.

I didn’t even like him. What the hell had come over me? One minute, I’d been furious that he was actually HotPan, sure that he’d orchestrated one more humiliation for me. The next, I’d been kissing that big mouth I’d always wanted to shut up. Parker’s mouth was generous, but I’d never thought about what that meant beyond him having wide, full lips that turned into a mocking grin all too often. But now I had a new context for generous.

I couldn’t stop thinking about his generous mouth tight on my cock, sucking and bobbing, taking me deep. This hadn’t been Parker’s first rodeo. Which, duh. I knew that, because Parker was HotPan, the guy who’d been leading me through my sexual exploration.

“Why the fuck would you take Kristin to a party?”

Parker looked up from his place on his knees. He’d fallen against my thigh, breathing hard after coming, and my brain had run riot ever since.

“Uh…”

“Did you want what was mine so badly you’d date a woman you weren’t even into? Did you even consider how that’d make Kristin feel?”

Parker scrambled to his feet, yanking up his jeans as he rose. I hurriedly did the same, not wanting to be exposed a minute longer. Now that the lust had faded, I was frustrated as hell that I’d given in to the urge to kiss him in the first place. Why had I done that? Parker was handsome, objectively. Blondish hair, blue eyes, typical Americana cream-of-the-crop bullshit. I wasn’t into that, was I?

“I’m pansexual. Pretty sure I mentioned that during one of our chats. The name, HotPan22? It’s a reference to my sexuality.”

Right. Fuck. It was so hard to reconcile Parker and HotPan. I knew they were the same, and yet, I couldn’t seem to merge the things I knew about Parker and the things I knew about HotPan into the one guy standing before me.

“In case you forgot, pansexuality means that gender is not really a factor in who attracts me.” He shifted. “But just so we’re clear, I didn’t lead Kristin on. She asked me to go to the party as a friend.”

I scoffed. “A friend. I saw how friendly you were.”

Parker shook his head. “Do we have to play this record again? I’m not interested in Kristin. I never was. I was always way more into you.”

I blinked. Did he mean…

“Yeah, even back then. Even when you thought I wanted to destroy you.” He rolled his eyes. “You’ve got an inflated sense of self-importance, you know? I never wanted your place on the field, or your girlfriend. I sure as fuck didn’t want you to lose your scholarship.”

“But you shit-talked me as much as I did you.”

Parker shrugged. “I guess I enjoyed having all that intensity turned on me.” His lips quirked. “I liked it a lot more when you were kissing me than punching me though.”

I winced. Could I really have misread the situation so much? Parker had been attracted to me, even when I’d decked him? That was messed up.

“You really didn’t use Kristin to bug me?”

“I didn’t. I wasn’t expecting her to kiss me.” Parker tucked his hands into his pockets. “So, what now? You going to punch me again? Tell me this meant nothing?”

“It did mean nothing.” I tried to sound casual. “I got off with a guy. Big deal. It was going to happen eventually.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want.”

“Oh, I will.” He stepped in close, and I held my breath as his eyes burned into me. I hadn’t ever thought of Parker as intense, but in that moment, I felt it. The force of will in him, the core of strength I’d so easily dismissed in the past. “You forget that I know you, Simon. We’re not rivals on the field anymore. We’re friends.”

I snorted, but Parker pressed closer, and for some damn reason, I couldn’t bring myself to push him away. His chest and thighs brushed against my own. My cock plumped, as if considering another round. I tensed, not wanting him to know how he affected me.

“Friends,” he insisted. “We’ve talked every day for the past couple of weeks. We’ve flirted. We’ve joked around. We’ve shared fantasies.”

“And?” I said through clenched teeth. “That means what, exactly?”

“It means you can’t hide the truth, Simon. I already know you like me.”

And that same cocky grin that I’d hated for so long slipped back onto his face. I couldn’t muster up the hate and resentment that had been fueling me for months.

I couldn’t even stop him when he pressed that goddamn smile against my cheek and murmured, “I’ll let myself out.”

12

PARKER

I woke to a banging on my door. “Get up, lazy asses! It’s time for a hangover breakfast!”

What the hell? I wasn’t hungover, and it was Sunday. I shoved the pillow over my head as the calls continued up and down the hall, followed by curses and laughter. Johnston had a set of lungs on him, though, and was impossible to drown out.

I gave up on sleep and pulled out my phone, checking my messages on reflex. Nothing from BiCuriousStud—Simon, that was. I still struggled* to believe they were one and the same.

Part of me had naively hoped Simon would message me goodnight as always. That our real lives wouldn’t have to impact the sweet little reality we’d created online. But he hadn’t, and there was no going back, no unknowing the truth.

But that didn’t mean I was going to give up. Simon hadn’t deleted the Thrust app. He was still there. And I texted him every morning, so what did I have to lose?

I had the weirdest dream last night…

My door rattled in its frame when Johnston pounded on it again. “Come on, Reed! I know you’re in there. You don’t even have a hangover as an excuse. Get your butt out of that bed!”

Grumbling, I threw back my covers and went to the door. I yanked it open and glared. “It’s Sunday.”

Johnston grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Best day to go out for breakfast.”

Shaking my head, I said, “Give me five.”

“You’ve got three.”

I flipped him off and closed the door, then turned to my dresser to grab the first pair of track pants and hoodie I could find. I was going out with a bunch of jocks—no point looking like anything but one of them. My hoodie branded me a Hayworth Haymaker, complete with the logo of farm machinery mowing down the field, scary teeth ready to decimate the competition. It made me smile and roll my eyes every time I saw it. Fucking rural schools and their farm mascots. There was a school in Kansas that had a shock of wheat for its mascot. Totally ridiculous.

I made it out the door in two minutes, phone clutched tight in my hand. Guys were milling in the hall, laughing and joking—probably waking every other person in this building on a Sunday morning.

Checking the time—nine-fifteen—I said, “Let’s get out of here so people can sleep.”

Johnston slung an arm over my shoulders, nearly knocking me to my knees, which reminded me of the night before. “Someone needs coffee and greasy bacon and eggs.”

“Sounds like the perfect training food,” I muttered.

“Whoa!” Cruz looked up and down the hall as if searching for someone. “I thought I heard Coach just then.”

Johnston snorted. “Coach’s pet, maybe.”

“Fuck you guys,” I said with a laugh as I shrugged out from under Johnston’s arm.

Johnston raised his arm in the air. “To Winston’s! Let’s roll!”

Winston’s was a bar by night and a brunch buffet by day. The hours were limited—9 a.m. to 11 a.m. only—but the owners had fun with it, usually including a few interesting drink specials whipped up by their mixologist, both alcoholic and not.

We crowded in, taking most of two tables, with the ten of us that Johnston had managed to get out of bed. Brady, our right tackle, didn’t even bother waiting for the server. He went straight to the buffet and loaded up fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits with savory sausage gravy.

“Damn, save some for the rest of us,” Cruz groused.

Brady was already shoveling eggs into his mouth. “Wha?” he mumbled. “Hungry.”

The guys started trash talking, which was inevitable when we all got together, and I pulled out my phone. Even though I expected Simon to ignore me, I couldn’t resist checking my messages.

He hadn’t answered, but he hadn’t blocked me. That was something, right?

I’d gone straight back to the dorm last night after my cocky exit from Tracks. It’d been an act. Simon had been so combative, insisting nothing we did meant anything, and I’d wanted to call his bluff.

I was the one bluffing, of course. I didn’t feel cocky. Anything but. I wished now that I’d left on a different note. A more sensitive one.

I should have made sure he was okay with everything that had happened. With all the sparks that had flown between us—the lust, the hostility—I’d lost sight of the fact Simon had never been with a guy before. I’d never imagined my first encounter with BiCuriousStud would go down that way. He’d seemed tentative about his sexuality, a little nervous to explore. I’d thought we’d go slow.

But Simon and me…we had crashed into one another like a head-on collision, no warning, no time to swerve—just tangled and mangled in the aftermath.

I’d made my way back to the dorm in a daze, barely remembering the walk from the bar back to campus. I hadn’t been able to think clearly, my head too full of Simon’s lips and tongue and cock. I’d still tasted his cum in my mouth. My hand had trembled as I’d reached for my doorknob, and I’d realized my entire body was shaking, still wound up from the flood of adrenaline, even with the amazing orgasm. I’d been on the verge of a crash.

I blew Simon Prentiss, I’d thought. Holy fuck.

The reality had hit me again and again—as if I’d forgotten, and my brain had felt the need to remind me that, yes, I’d fucked around with Simon, and no, it hadn’t been a dream.

BiCuriousStud is Simon. That means Simon was with his first guy ever, and that guy was me…

“Who’d you bang last night? Must have been one hell of a girl.”

I looked up, startled, as Cruz brought me back to the moment. He leaned in to get a look at my phone. I quickly shoved it back into my pocket.

“No one.”

“No one has a lot of your attention,” he pointed out.

“What’s this, now? Someone actually had sex with Reed? She must be special.”

The trash talk began in earnest, but I didn’t mind. If they were playfully insulting me, they weren’t asking questions. I rolled my eyes and flipped them off, grinning as if they’d busted me.

But I couldn’t help but wonder: if they knew a guy held my attention—not some pretty college coed—would they still be smiling? Would they laugh and joke with me, insulting me good-naturedly like one of their own?

The server arrived to rattle off specials. Johnston ordered a pitcher of blood-orange screwdrivers, while Darnell ordered a Hail Mary—an extra-spicy bloody Mary. He offered to get a pitcher, but no one else wanted to drink that shit. Hinkel and Cleary were both underage, though, so they had to order “virgin” juices, and the guys turned their razzing to them. Hinkel got a drink called the Virgin Voodoo—green apple, pineapple, and lime—and Cleary ordered the Cherry Pop Twist, which was made of lime juice, sprite, and cherry-flavored syrup.

Glad to escape the hot seat, I got up and grabbed a plate. The buffet wasn’t exactly the “greasy” breakfast food you’d get at a dive diner, but that suited me fine. I’d rather not clog my arteries this early in the morning. I grabbed a bowl of fruit, some eggs, and two pancakes, and returned to the table.

While the guys were preoccupied, I checked my phone again.

Still nothing, of course. Why did I keep checking?

After everything we did, I was hoping Simon would let down his guard and reach out to me. I wanted him to realize that I’d never meant for anything bad to happen to him. The chemistry between us was off the charts. The friendship between us online was emerging but real. I could feel so much potential with Simon, if he’d only give me a chance.

But hatred didn’t die over one blowjob. I was expecting too much.

Simon was probably never going to touch me again. BiCuriousStud would probably never send me another message. My chest ached, and I didn’t know which made me sadder. They were both so incredible.

Because he’s just one guy, Parker.

It still blew my mind, but I could see it now. BiCuriousStud had a cynical side that matched Simon perfectly. But he was softer. He was a less guarded Simon, a Simon that his friends and family probably saw, but never me.

Until last night.

And probably never again.

* * *

SIMON

HotPan22: I had the weirdest dream last night …

I snorted as I read the message that had come in on my Thrust app. If only it had been a dream. But I’d never have dreamt of Parker Reed on his knees for me.

There was a quiet cough behind me, reminding me that I wasn’t at the library to read hookup app messages. Especially ones from Parker fucking Reed.

I shifted on the hard chair beneath me, lifting my left hip to cram my phone into my back pocket. Out of sight, out of mind? Not likely. Parker was like a thorn in my side, prickling my awareness and distracting me from the homework I needed to focus on.

I should have blocked him—or deleted the Thrust app entirely. The thing had led to nothing but a flood of horny men eager to play with the bicurious guy. It hadn’t taken long for me to feel like nothing more than an object of their porn fantasies.

HotPan had been different though. Nice. Friendly. Flirty but respectful.

Why does he have to be Parker?

With a sigh, I tried again to put him from my mind. To forget the feel of his lips under mine, firm but soft. The stubble that scraped my jaw when we kissed. The hardness of his body.

I raked a hand through my hair, growling under my breath, and pulled my textbook and laptop closer. I didn’t really need the library’s resources, but I’d gotten used to having a dedicated study space when I was in football. People came and went enough at the frat that I couldn’t settle in and really focus.

I couldn’t go back to the tutoring center—not without possibly running into my former teammates—so I’d started hitting the library a few times a week. Right now, I was researching ideas for my Sports Leadership project. I’d narrowed the possibilities to two: financial support for former athletes, including alternative scholarships, but possibly also reduced housing and/or campus job opportunities specifically set up to help them finish school; or prepping athletes for a future after sports, including programming to help them identify new paths, possibly including career counseling, mentorship, and healthy outlets for the energy they used to put into athletics.

I liked the first one, but I wasn’t so sure it was realistic. Athletes got scholarships for performing, for bringing money to the university. Funds for athletes who had to quit—either by choice or not—sounded like a pipe dream. The second one, though, was easily accomplished.

As an athlete, you were pushed to give so much of yourself to the team. You devoted your energy, your focus, your identity to your sport. Even though the majority of students didn’t continue on professionally, we all tended to self-identify as athletes. The void that was left when that sport was gone was crazy hard for me, and I could only imagine it would be true whether it happened before graduation or after.

Even though I’d had a major and a plan for life after football, I didn’t spend any time on it. It wasn’t my passion. It had been something to worry about later. Something to fall back on if or when my dreams of going pro didn’t materialize. And when I’d first started school, I’d been naïve enough to think the NFL was my future. It didn’t even matter to me that I didn’t get scooped up by a big school. I hadn’t wanted to stray too far from my family, and I hadn’t grown up in a big football town. I figured my star quality would shine, and someone would see me.

By my junior year, I knew that was unlikely, but I’d still held out for a future in football. I hadn’t even cared if I had to play arena football or go to Canada. It was less money and fame—but it was still football.

Only after my injuries had I realized I was really and truly done. My body couldn’t hack it. Even if I’d had the talent for the NFL, I’d never hold up on the field.

The hopelessness I’d felt when that realization came—that I’d lost the future I wanted—was incredibly tough. It was at least half the reason I’d lashed out at Parker.

It wasn’t about Kristin. It had never really been about Kristin.

It hadn’t even been that he was making the plays, getting the attention I wanted on the field.

It was that his body hadn’t betrayed him. His body could take the hits and get back up, dust off, and run again. His body wasn’t keeping him from the future he wanted.

Unlike mine. Truth was, I’d been done long before I threw that punch.

And maybe, just maybe, if I’d gone through some kind of prep program that had helped me think about my future in different terms, that had helped me understand I was more than a football player, that I could want more than one thing at a time, and had prepared me for the realities waiting for me…

Maybe I’d never have thrown that punch in the first place.

“Hey, stranger. Funny meeting you here.”

I looked up to see Cooper grinning down at me. I laughed. “Are you following me?”

“Pretty sure you’re following me.” He took a seat across from me. “Am I interrupting? I was just about to take a lunch break. Thought maybe you’d want to come with?”

I checked my computer screen. I had a lot of notes about existing athletic programming, stats on how many college athletes continued playing after graduation, and information related to depression among athletes who had to give up their sport. It was a solid start.

“I could eat,” I said. “No Trace this weekend?”

Cooper pulled a face. “I was struggling to keep up with homework. I could theoretically do it at his house, but…”

I smirked. “More fun not to?”

He chuckled. “Yeah.”

I closed out my Google Doc file, closed my laptop, and packed up. While we walked out of the library, my brain churned with questions. Cooper was possibly my only friend who might understand what I was going through.

In more ways than one.

I wasn’t ready to talk about one of those, however. Not yet. My first experience with bisexuality was all muddled up with my confused feelings about Parker and our history. I had to untangle that mess in my head before I spilled it out to someone else.

But I thought maybe Cooper would have some insight into what was going on with the rest of my life.

“I’m working on this project for Sports Leadership. I’m thinking of creating programming for athletes, calling it something like “Life After Sports.”

“So, it’s like, what to do when you’re done with sports?”

“Basically.” I laughed awkwardly, avoiding his gaze. “Been feeling lost lately. Like, I’m a football player, but I’m not. You know?”

“Yeah, I can’t even imagine what that feels like.” Cooper sounded so sincere. “I do know what it’s like to feel lost, though.” It was his turn for an embarrassed laugh. “Spent years doing that.”

It wasn’t a secret. For a long time, Cooper had been the guy who spent more time getting high than cracking open his textbooks. He’d gotten more focused over the past year, though.

“How’d you find your way?”

He looked at me, his face so damn earnest. It was a new side to Cooper, one that had been coming out more recently. “Finding someone who’d support me no matter what direction I took.”

“Trace, you mean.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “He helps me see things more clearly sometimes. He gets me to think about what I really want out of life. I know it’s different for you. You had a dream, and you lost it. But maybe, if you try, you can find a new dream, one that will give you fulfillment.”

I nodded, struggling to breathe around the lump in my throat. “That’s exactly what I want this program I’m developing to help with. Giving us dreams we can actually achieve.”

Cooper smiled sympathetically. “Then it sounds like a great idea.”

I tried to smile back. “Yeah.”

“Maybe, if you let it, this can be your new dream. For now. Helping other athletes face life after sports with more support and hope than you have?”

I thought about Cooper’s words all through lunch, and again when I’d returned to the library. After our conversation I knew for sure which project to choose. Maybe I always had. Because while financial support would be nice, it wasn’t the loss of money that had been killing my soul.

It was the loss of a dream—unrealistic or not.

And maybe Chelsea and Cooper were right. Maybe the only way through it was to find a new dream, a more practical one. It wasn’t giving up, as I’d once thought. It wasn’t defeat.

It was survival.

13

PARKER

Screech lived up to her nickname, shrieking as she tore across the newly green lawn at my parents’ house. For early March, it was a pretty nice day for Nebraska. The sun reflected brightly off Screech’s copper curls, even as a brisk breeze ruffled them as she ran.

I gave chase, roaring, because that was all part of the fun. A few of the other kids at the party joined in, scattering in all directions, squealing and laughing as I dove for them one by one.

The adults sat by the table with cake and presents, shaking their heads. My brother was busy bagging up torn wrappings and gift bags, decimated in the tornado that was my niece. Her real name was Grace, but that was such a nice, dignified name. Screech fit her much better. Debra, her mom, had a sweater pulled close around her thin frame while she talked with a few of the other moms in attendance.

Screech had shed her jacket at the first opportunity, impervious to the chill in the air when there was an Uncle Monster to escape.

I caught her first, of course. She was the birthday girl, after all. I scooped her up and swung her around, growling loudly into her neck. She giggled and squirmed until she magically escaped. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she was off like a shot, and I lunged for another kid, repeating the move.

Kid after kid, until every single child was caught, tickled, and escaped—and Screech three times, because this birthday girl was just a tiny bit selfish about playtime.

“Let’s play Uncle Jungle Gym!” she cried when I begged for a break.

“Nooo,” I said with a groan.

But kids were already surrounding me, jumping up and down eagerly. “Play with us! Please! Play!”

I gave in, holding out both my arms and flexing my biceps. Screech jumped up, grabbing hold of my arm and swinging from it like a bar. Soon, the other kids were following suit, taking turns thankfully. My muscles burned, but their smiles were worth it.

I loved interacting with kids. They never failed to make me feel younger. To see the world in a brighter light. Life was so simple when swinging from a guy’s arm was the highlight of your day.

“Okay, I’m tired,” I said, collapsing to the ground dramatically. “You guys are tougher than a whole team of linebackers, you know that?”

My parents had taken up a spot leaning against a tree nearby, and my mother laughed. “You can tell Coach Jackson you got an extra workout this weekend.”

I’d gotten permission to miss my weekend volunteer hours to go home for Screech’s birthday. My mother could be very persuasive when she wanted to be, and she’d shown up on campus Friday afternoon to drive me home.

The kids continued to climb all over me. “What am I gonna do with these wild children?” I wondered aloud.

“Hey, I know,” Mom said, “why don’t you set them up for a game of tag football? You can practice those coaching skills that might come in handy one day.”

I played along, even though football was the last thing I felt like doing just then. This birthday party had come at a great time to offer me an escape—both from the team and from Simon. I knew that he would probably ghost me at the House Pledge site, just like he had on Thrust despite my compulsion to send him a message at least once a day. I’d made jokes; I’d flirted slyly; I’d even tried sincerity.

I hope you’re doing okay with what happened between us, I’d typed most recently. I know you might want to forget it, but I never will.

Then, as if that weren’t pathetic enough, I’d added: I really like you, online and off.

The off was a bit of a stretch, maybe, considering the hostility between us. But I had liked him in the beginning, before he got injured and I ran his routes, before he began to look at me like the enemy. And I had definitely liked his intense kisses.

But I’d gotten nothing but radio silence from Simon.

Meanwhile, the guys kept giving me knowing looks while they taunted me about my mystery woman, which only made me feel worse. Worse about the situation with Simon, and worse that I had to keep secrets about myself.

For football. For a dream I wasn’t sure was a dream. For a dream my parents were so damn proud of too.

As I lined up the kids, giving them each a simplified version of the game rules and some instruction about their various positions, Mom and Dad watched with indulgent smiles. My brother fetched a battered football for us to use. There were no flags, but the kids could just touch each other as in a game of tag.

Then we all watched together as Screech ran across the lawn, shrieking at the top of her lungs. I was surprised the glass in the windows didn’t break.

My brother sidled up to me. “How’s the football star?”

I crossed my arms, keeping my eyes on the kids. I always felt weird talking to Scott about football. He’d played in high school, but he’d never made a college team. My parents had put so much energy into me once his game ended that I wondered if he resented me the way Simon did.

“Fine.”

“Well, that’s an enthusiastic response.”

I glanced at him sidelong. “How did you feel when it was over for you?”

Scott looked surprised by the question. “I was cool with it. I never was as good as you. It was just a hobby for me. Why? Worried it’ll be over for you after graduation?”

“Nah, not really.” If anything, I was more worried about the opposite. Sometimes it felt as if football would never end. As if the strenuous workouts, the game pressure, the need to conform to expectations would never end.

My brother scoffed. “Of course not. You probably expect to go pro, huh? Things have always come so easily to you.”

“That’s not it,” I said, turning to him. “Did you ever think I might want more from life than football?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Freedom? Maybe I want to sleep in, eat junk food, skip the gym for three weeks.”

He snorted. “Poor baby.”

I didn’t blame him. That all sounded extremely shallow when I said it aloud, but I couldn’t give him my other reasons. The desire to be open about my sexuality, to be free to date whomever I wanted without fear, to give my heart and my energy to something other than a game.

Which was ironic, because I loved games. I loved playing. I imagined I had a bit of the Peter Pan spirit about me, which was why I connected with children so well.

But football wasn’t fun anymore. It hadn’t been for a long time. It was too driven by ambition and money.

“I know I sound like a spoiled brat,” I muttered. “I just want…a change, I guess.”

He whistled low and long. “Good luck telling Mom and Dad.”

Before I could think of a response to that, a little boy named Brad scored, and Screech wailed at the injustice of losing a point on her birthday.

Scott swept in to give his daughter a pep talk, while the other kids gathered around me for more advice. Mom waded into the masses, never able to resist a bit of coaching from the sidelines. She’d been doing it since my peewee days, after all.

“Don’t get discouraged now,” she told them. “This is a game that takes focus. Parker has spent years learning how to play his best, and one day he’s going to be teaching other players how to win.” She beamed a smile my way. “He’s a good coach, isn’t he, kids?”

A chorus of voices agreed: “Yes” and “Yeah!” and “The best!”

I chuckled. “You guys are too good to me. But you’re the ones out there playing, right? Give yourselves a pat on the back.”

Because they were adorable kids, they all patted their own backs, some of them awkwardly tipping over in their attempt to deliver. The game continued with cheers, protests, and even a few tears—but at the end of the match, they were all smiling.

They were all winners.

And it was the best day I’d had in a long time.

Not because of the football, but because of the children.

I didn’t know if or when I’d ever tell Mom and Dad, but in that moment, I hoped the scouts would bypass me, that I’d get outplayed or sidelined next year. Because I wasn’t sure I had it in me to quit and disappoint the family that had had faith in me for so long—but I also wasn’t sure I had it in me to keep their dreams alive at the cost of my own.

* * *

SIMON

I went to the House Pledge site early, hoping I could lose myself in work before Parker arrived. I dressed in old jeans and a stained tee since we’d be doing more painting. Hopefully more onto the house and less onto each other.

I couldn’t help but remember the paint fight with Parker, the sparks that had sizzled between us even then. Even when I’d never fully acknowledged them, more focused on the ember of hostility I kept burning for him.

Cooper, Linc, and I began unloading supplies from the pickup before the rest of the volunteers arrived.

“No Trace again, huh?” I said, mostly to distract myself.

“Nope. He had a big landscaping project,” Cooper said, his voice a bit strained as he carried full paint cans across the lawn.

I followed with paint trays, brushes, and rollers. Linc followed with two ladders. We were still in various stages of scraping and painting around the house. The east side was still being scraped, while the south side was nearly finished. We’d constructed platforms so that we could safely scrape and paint the upper floors.

“I’d like to go see him next weekend, though,” Cooper added. “If you’re up for managing things again?”

I thought of all the tension with Parker, the awkwardness that was likely to ensue when we saw one another, the uncertainty of how I’d handle it. The last thing I wanted was to be in a position that required us to work together.

But I owed it to Cooper.

“Sure, I can do that,” I said.

I’d just have to find a way to call a truce with Parker. No more paint fights, or simmering hostility, or sucker punches.

Just two adults, managing their shit in a grown-up fashion.

Because you’ve got such a good track record of that.

I ignored the voice in my head and finished unloading the supplies so that I could get to work.

As volunteers arrived, I stayed on a platform and scraped until my muscles burned. The sun beat down hard enough that I began to overheat. My T-shirt clung to me with sweat, and with an annoyed huff, I pulled it over my head and dropped it onto the platform beside me.

A breeze skated up my spine, reminding me viscerally of Parker’s hands skimming over my skin—even though his touch had been anything but light. He’d been just as forceful as me, grabbing and holding tight, digging his fingers into my muscles.

I glanced around, suddenly aware of my half-dressed state, but no one was looking at me. Everyone was working. Scanning the guys on the ground, I didn’t see a head of bright gold hair. Just Cooper’s sandy blond, as he stood with Linc discussing something.

Maybe Parker is on the other side of the house.

Not that it mattered where he was. I’d wanted to avoid him. I returned to work, trying to shake off the curiosity, but suddenly I couldn’t get him out of my head. Couldn’t stop wondering what he was doing, if he’d seen me, if he was avoiding me.

He’d texted me all week. I hadn’t answered, but I couldn’t bring myself to ignore him completely. I read each word, wishing I’d never agreed to meet HotPan. Wishing I could go back to what we’d had, that I could have my chat buddy on the other side of the screen again, anonymous and safe.

There was nothing safe about Parker Reed. Nothing safe about the way he made me react, or the way his mouth had felt around my dick. Nothing safe about how his blue eyes had blazed up at me while he’d worked me toward orgasm.

He’d looked fierce and aggressive—and hot as hell.

I’d never seen Parker like that, and now I couldn’t get the image out of my mind.

Clearly the sun was getting to me. I climbed down the ladder and grabbed one of the bottles of water from the cooler we’d brought along. Taking a long drink, I casually meandered around the house, observing the volunteers. Some guys were on scaffolding on this side too. A few volunteers were touching up the trim on the opposite side of the house.

Parker was nowhere to be seen.

When I reached Cooper, I couldn’t resist asking. “Was Parker a no-show?”

He glanced at Linc, who checked the clipboard of sign-ins by volunteers. “Not here this week.”

“Fucker,” I muttered.

If anyone had reason to avoid the work site, it was me, damn it. I’d been blindsided by Parker’s presence at the bar last week. I’d had my first bisexual experience with my fucking nemesis. I was the one still trying to wrap my head around my reaction to him.

But I’d set all that aside to be responsible. Because it was petty, personal shit that needed to be kept separate.

I returned to work, but unable to help myself, I pulled out my phone and messaged him back.

Where are you? You know what, never mind. Just get your ass over here and start painting.

I got a response almost immediately. Had Parker been waiting for my message? My heart flipped, and I pushed down hard on the pleasure that tried to flood through me. I did not care if Parker wanted to talk to me.

Aw, miss me? Sorry, I had another engagement.

Wow, and to think I felt special.

My heart pounded while I waited for his response, my pulse echoing in my ears as I stood frozen on the platform, eyes fixed on my phone screen.

I hated that Parker held me captive like this, but I hated the idea of him hooking up with someone else even more. What the fuck? Our hookup wasn’t even cold. Then again, it’d been a week. Maybe that was old news for a guy like Parker. He obviously got around, and why wouldn’t he? He was sexy, and…shit. When had I started thinking of him in terms of his sex appeal?

Probably about the time he sucked your dick.

Before I could beat myself up any further for my obsession with a guy I didn’t even like, he answered.

It’s a family thing. You’re the only guy on my radar right now.

He added: But I kind of thought you didn’t want to be on my radar anymore?

I don’t, I answered quickly. Just need a hand at the work site.

I just bet you do, he typed, following it up with a winky emoticon, then an emoji of a hand and one of an eggplant.

It wasn’t until later that I realized what he was saying. And when I did, my cock got hard, just like he knew it would.

Fucking hell, Parker Reed must have broken me. Because I couldn’t muster up even one angry thought that night as I reached into my pants and stroked my cock while replaying our frantic hookup in the back room of Tracks.

14

PARKER

I stood outside Tracks once more, pulse quickening.

This wasn’t the plan. Once Simon messaged me back on the app, I’d tried to play it cool. For the past six days, we’d been regaining our footing, with jokes and memes and shooting the shit about our day.

Neither of us brought up our hookup. Or any plans to hook up again. We’d avoided sexting. Hell, we’d avoided flirty banter.

It was like starting over, which wasn’t a bad thing necessarily. A clean slate and all that.

But tonight I’d gone out with a few of the guys on the team. I’d hit a few parties, drank a few beers. Gotten hit on by two girls, one guy, and a gorgeous person who might have been nonbinary—and felt zero flickers of interest for any of them.

Because Simon Prentiss wouldn’t leave my mind.

The strength of him, when he shoved me into those boxes and kissed me the first time. The taste of him as he pushed into my mouth. But most of all, the look in his eyes. The death glare turning to intense focus, dark eyes made darker by desire. The twist of pleasure as he bared his teeth and came.

I couldn’t forget. Couldn’t give up.

With a few beers in me, I had just enough courage to tempt fate by showing up at the scene of the crime.

I pushed inside, pausing to let my eyes adjust to the gloom. It was early enough tonight that the liquor was still flowing. I flashed my ID to a bouncer and continued to the bar, ears already ringing from the high-volume band onstage. They were playing something upbeat with a bass that vibrated through the floor, into my feet, and up my body.

The crowd was a lively one, dancing to the music, but I only had eyes for the bartender.

Simon moved quickly, snagging liquor bottles and mixers, upending them over shot glasses, and sliding drinks across the bar to the thirsty crowd. He looked like a pro, barely pausing to think as he moved from one drink, to the next, to the next.

Until it was my turn.

Then he froze. “What are you doing here? I’m working.”

He had to raise his voice to be heard over the music.

I leaned in over the bar, calling back, “I know! I’m here for a drink!”

Simon didn’t look convinced. He was suspicious by nature, but I guess in this case he was right to be. I had an ulterior motive for showing up at Tracks. But I could see he was way too busy to worry about me just yet.

“I’ll take a shot of whatever they’re having,” I said, waving to a group that Simon had just served.

His lips twitched. “You want a Haymaker? It’s potent.”

“I can handle it.”

Without another word, he grabbed the liquor bottles—three brands of whiskey, in fact. Fuck, what had I gotten myself into? With an evil grin, Simon mixed the drink and handed it to me.

“Good luck.”

The challenging gleam in his eye did something to me. I picked up the shot, saluted him with it, then tipped it into my mouth. I nearly choked up at the burn that slid down my throat, then warmed my chest and stomach. It was an interesting flavor, combining to create a sort of whiskey hybrid I’d never tasted before.

But damn. Whiskey on top of beer. Talk about a recipe for disaster.

I slammed the empty glass onto the bar to find Simon still watching me despite the line of customers. That made my chest warm for a whole other reason.

“Another?” he asked.

Knowing better than to push my luck that far, I shook my head no as I backed away. Our eyes remained locked until the crowd pushed between us.

Simon returned to his work, and I turned to the dance floor.

I could already feel the liquor going to my head. But what better way to burn off some alcohol and save myself from a drunken stupor than by dancing?

I merged into the writhing bodies on the small dance floor. It was as hot as Hades in the midst of all that body heat, and I tugged my shirt off and tucked it into my back pocket. I didn’t know if Simon could see me, but I hoped he could. I’d make sure our paths crossed before the night was over.

But for now, I accepted dances with anyone who approached—and there were several women happy to take turns dancing with me. The music was upbeat, the crowd was happy, and I was having more fun than I expected as I waited for last call.

I returned to the bar for a water, getting served by the other bartender because Simon was too far in the weeds. This guy was even faster than Simon, but when he looked up to take my order, he smiled—and damn, he knew how to work those dimples.

“Aren’t you here for Simon?” he asked.

I must have looked surprised, but he simply braced his forearms on the bar and leaned in close, smirking. “You know why his end of the bar is busier than mine?”

I shook my head.

“He keeps getting distracted. Something out on the dance floor keeps catching his attention.” He eyed me up and down. “Now, I can see why.”

I laughed, blushing a little. For all the experience I’d had with hookups, I wasn’t used to guys flirting with me. I might be closeted, but I had functional gaydar, and this guy was too cute to be straight.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, playing it safe.

“Sure you don’t.” He winked, then before we could say anything more, he stepped back. I watched as he whispered something in Simon’s ear then gave him a shove in my direction.

Simon glared at me, but there was something new in that look. A hint of jealousy, maybe?

“Another Haymaker?” he asked.

I hesitated. He had that look in his eye again, daring me to prove I could handle it, but I didn’t want to get whiskey dick if I had a shot with him later. Judging by the intensity of his gaze, I might.

Assuming he didn’t knock me out before the Haymakers could.

“Nah. Just water,” I said. “Unless you want to carry my ass out of here tonight.”

He grinned, and holy shit…had I ever seen Simon Prentiss smile before? If I had, it hadn’t been this kind of smile, the kind that transformed his entire face from stoic, serious Simon to cute, happy Simon.

“It’s called the Haymaker for a reason,” he said as he sat a bottle of water on the bar.

I cracked it open, guzzling half of it one go. My head was still spinning from the first shot. Not to mention the beer I had before it. What was that saying, beer then liquor, never sicker? I forced myself to drink the rest of the water.

Simon drifted away to serve a few more drinks while last call went out, and I selfishly stayed wedged against the bar instead of making room for someone else.

I swiped at the water that had dripped down my chin and onto my bare chest. When I looked up, Simon was back. Watching me.

“It’s closing time,” he said.

I locked eyes with him. “Good. I have plans for you.”

“Plans?”

“Yeah. I think you should let me into that backroom again, don’t you?”

Simon licked his lips. Was he nervous? My admittedly drunk brain tried to process his reaction. He’d never been with a guy before a week ago. Maybe I was coming on too strong.

He glanced over at the other bartender, who gave him a nod in return. Then without another word, he raised the gate to the bar and beckoned me through.

Silently, he led me into the backroom—only this time there were still people in the bar. Last call had wrapped up, but the other bartender was right outside, surely knowing why Simon had brought me back here.

Simon turned to face me. “I’m sorry about last week.”

My heart sank. Had he brought me back here just to reject me in private?

“I’m not.”

Determination blazed through me. I wasn’t going to let Simon deny the charge between us. He could resent me if he wanted, blame me for stepping into his shoes on the field.

But he couldn’t deny he wanted me. It was in his eyes.

“More than last week, really. I shouldn’t have—”

“Shut up, Simon,” I said, putting a hand to his chest and pushing him back into a stretch of bare wall between a stack of boxes and a shelving unit.

“What?” He laughed a little. “Parker, I’m just trying to tell you that I’m an asshole.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“Fine.” His glare was back. “I want you to—”

But he didn’t need to finish. My lips were already on his.

He made a soft noise of relief that went straight to my head, and pulled me closer, tighter, until I could feel every ridge and plane of his body against mine.

* * *

SIMON

Parker kissed me, and it felt different than the last time he’d followed me into this dingy backroom. For one thing, it was less angry. I’d spent the past week thinking of nothing but the explosion of lust between us. The disconnect between who I always thought he was and who he might actually be.

Parker was the football player I wanted to be, strong and successful and the twinkle in our coach’s eye. He was also the guy who’d had the bad taste to take my ex-girlfriend to a party, metaphorically kicking me when I was down. But he was more than that too. He was sweet and funny. He was patient and respectful. Even when I’d attempted to ghost him, he’d remained loyal, messaging me, waiting for me.

Parker was HotPan. And whatever my past with Parker, HotPan was my friend. Was my confidante.

Was my sexy tutor willing to lead me through a bisexual exploration.

I wanted that. Wanted him.

Wanted Parker.

I never saw it coming. I’m pretty sure he didn’t either. But here we were, in the backroom of a bar, hearts beating hard as we clutched at one another.

Parker kissed me sweetly, letting his tongue dance over my lips tentatively. He was the perfect choice for BiCuriousStud. But as bashful as I might have seemed online, that wasn’t the whole of me. Once endorphins flooded my body, all bets were off.

I tightened my grip on him, spun us so that his back hit the wall, and kissed him hard.

“Wait here for me.”

He blinked, looking dazed. “What?”

“Wait here. I’ve got to help close the bar.”

He licked his puffy bottom lip. Fuck, but he was hot like this. His hair all ruffled up, a flush to his light complexion, body loose and languid as he leaned against the wall, pliable under my hands.

I kissed him once more, sucking that lip, and he moaned under his breath. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere.”

He smiled lazily. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me.”

I turned before I gave in to the temptation of another kiss, another touch. I wanted to feel his mouth on me again. I wanted to do more than be the asshole who received pleasure this time. I wanted to give it. I wanted to be the one making Parker fall apart.

I hurried out to the bar, rejoining Rhett. He lifted his brow in question.

“Um, he’s going to wait while we close up if that’s cool?”

“Don’t be stupid. Take him home. I’ll close.”

My jaw dropped, and I fumbled my words. “I’m not…I mean, we’re just…”

Rhett grabbed my shoulder and squeezed. “You don’t need to worry, Simon. Who would I tell? But take it somewhere else, okay? I don’t mind covering, but if old Sal gets wind of it, you’re gonna lose your job.”

I nodded once, shortly. “Right. Sorry. I shouldn’t even be doing this, but…”

Rhett smiled. “Don’t be sorry, man. I know all about complicated attraction.” At my questioning look, he waved a hand. “Roommate. It’s weird. Don’t ask. Just take your guy home before someone else does.”

Parker had made quite the spectacle tonight, his shirtless and toned as fuck upper body on display. It’d made me crazy to watch him dance with woman after woman. It was a weird kind of foreplay of its own. Knowing he was here for me and having to watch all those hands clutch his arms, sweep up and down his ribs. One brazen redhead had raked her nails over his abs, making him jump back with a laugh.

I’d wanted to go out there and toss her across the room, then sling Parker over my shoulder like a caveman and take him to my backroom lair.

When he’d made that joke about carrying his ass out of the bar, I’d had to bite down on a laugh. It had so closely mirrored what I’d been fantasizing about.

But now, with Rhett’s reality check, I knew we couldn’t keep hooking up here. I needed my job too much to risk it.

Turning toward the backroom, I found Parker—dressed again in a T-shirt—leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. How much had he overheard?

“Want to get out of here?” I asked.

He nodded once. “Where to?”

I considered that. No way could we go to his dorm. He was surrounded on all sides by football players. That would be the opposite of discreet.

There was the frat, but that wasn’t exactly private either. I knew my bros would be cool with me hooking up with a guy. They had Cooper’s back, after all. But I didn’t want to entrust Parker’s privacy to a house full of people.

We were going to have to get creative.

“We’ll figure it out when we get there,” I said.

His lips quirked. “Sounds fun.”

* * *

PARKER

There ended up being around the corner of the bar, in the back alley. We’d barely gotten out of the glow of the overhead security lights before Simon pushed me against the brick wall and kissed me with unrestrained hunger.

I groaned as his tongue invaded my mouth, slick and hot. He grabbed fistfuls of my shirt, yanking it up, breaking the kiss to pull it over my head. Jesus, we were going to do this right out in the open? My cock throbbed in my jeans, on board with that plan, even though it seemed reckless.

“Here?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

His hands skated over my flanks, then up to my nipples. He pinched them both at the same time, and a sharp spark of pain made me arch into the pull. “Fuck!”

Simon let me go only to rake his nails down my abs, making me gasp, before yanking open my jeans.

Thank fuck the bar had already cleared out and closed down. There was only one vehicle in the lot, the other bartender’s, I assumed. It was as if Simon were a man possessed. Last week, he’d been a fiery tempest of lust and rage, but tonight he was something different.

He was hungry, and I was the fucking dessert.

He shoved my jeans and boxer briefs down to mid-thigh, nearly taking my dick with them. I winced as material tugged my cock down roughly before letting it pop free. My dick bounced up to smack my abs, and Simon licked his lips as looked me over.

My skin prickled as I became aware of just how exposed I was, standing mostly naked in a dark alley. A cool breeze danced over my skin, raising even more goosebumps.

It did nothing to dampen the lust swamping me.

“Touch me,” I said, my voice sounding loud in the silence that had fallen between us.

Simon wrapped his big hand around my cock, and I squeezed my eyes shut, groaning. He jerked me roughly without lube or even spit, but I didn’t care as his mouth came down on mine once more. Just having him against me, touching me, was amazing.

He was still fully dressed. That didn’t seem fair. I tugged at his shirt. “Wanna see you.”

“Next time,” he said.

My heart skipped. There would be a next time.

I dropped my hands to his waistband, tugging open his jeans, reaching inside to grip the hot length of his cock. “Gotta let me have this at least.”

He dropped his mouth to my neck, moaning a little as I stroked him. I wanted to jerk us off together, but everything was too dry. I pushed him back enough to drop to a crouch, jeans stretching even tighter across my thighs.

“Fuck,” he whispered just before my mouth engulfed his cock.

He exhaled shakily as I drew him deeper, using my tongue to get him nice and wet. I bobbed a few times, until I was satisfied he was slick enough, then stood and raised my hand. “Lick me.”

Simon looked confused.

“My cock is too dry. I need—”

Before I could finish, Simon dropped down in front of me. My breath caught as I watched him bathe the head of my cock with his tongue. My thighs began to tremble as each flick of his tongue sent sparks through me. He licked up and down the shaft, flicked his tongue against the frenulum, swirled it over the head once more—making me weak in the knees—then slid a few inches entirely into his mouth.

“Fuck, Simon.”

He grabbed my hips as I bucked on reflex, wanting to bury my cock deeper. His tongue was busy swirling around me as he sucked, and my eyes rolled up in my head.

“Wait, stop!” I gasped desperately, worried I’d come too soon.

He slid off and rose his feet, and I yanked him to me in another kiss. This one wet and sloppy, both of us too worked up for finesse. I reached between us, grabbing his cock and mine, now wet with each other’s saliva, and pressing them together.

His breathing stuttered. “That’s…”

“Good, right?”

“Yeah.”

His cock was hot and hard alongside mine, and I wrapped my hand around one side. Then guided his hand to wrap around the other. Together we squeezed our cocks tight within the tunnel of our hands.

Then I began to thrust, sliding our cocks together, and Simon did the same.

“Oh fuck,” he muttered as we worked ourselves higher and higher. “Fuck, fuck. I’m gonna—”

I slammed my mouth against his, muffling his cry as he came with a hot gush inside my fist. Everything got slicker as I picked up the pace, bucking my hips. Simon pulled away, freeing his dick, and fisted his hand tightly around me, stroking, and that was all it took.

I came with a silent gasp, arching as my body tightened and released. Lost to the pleasure, I didn’t even feel the brick scraping my back or the wind on my flushed cheeks.

My eyes snapped open when cotton and denim suddenly rubbed against my sensitive skin. Simon had stepped forward, pressing tight against me, and turned my face away from the street.

A car drove past, making my heart—which was already beating a quick tempo—pick up the pace.

“Fuck, could they…”

“They didn’t see,” he assured me.

Our eyes met and held, both of us aware of the consequences if they had seen.

“We need to be more careful,” I said.

He nodded. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I just…wanted you.”

“The bartender inside. Do you think he recognized me?”

Simon shook his head. “You don’t need to worry about Rhett. He’s a good guy, okay? He won’t say anything.”

I hoped Simon was right. I’d been reckless tonight. Drunk, and horny, and dumb.

But it’d gotten me here. Gotten me what I wanted.

Simon still held me, his body like a warm blanket against mine. One I was reluctant to give up. My hands tightened around him for a moment before I forced myself to let go.

I pushed him back gently. “I should cover up.”

“Yeah.” He backed up, reaching down to pick up my shirt for me while I tugged up my jeans. For the second time, I’d be returning to my dorm a mess, courtesy of one Simon Prentiss.

At least this time he wouldn’t ghost me, I hoped.

“Next time, we need to find a better place to do this.”

Simon already sounded distant. “Next time?”

I stepped forward, grabbing him around the neck. Glaring, I silently dared him to argue as I said, “Yeah. Next time we fuck around, Simon. I want you naked, and we can’t do that in an alley.”

He swallowed hard. “The frat is full of people.”

“So is my dorm.”

“So, where does that leave us?”

I chewed on my lip. “In an alley?”

He smirked. “Such a dirty boy, letting me rip off half your clothes in an alley.”

“Shut up.”

“Anyone could have seen.” He tsked. “Can you imagine if someone had seen your co—”

I shut him up with a hard kiss, muttering, “You’re an asshole” against his lips.

He smirked. “You like it.”

“Find us a better place,” I said. “Then I’ll really show you how much I like your asshole.”

His eyes widened in alarm, and I laughed. “Don’t look so terrified. I’m just kidding. Mostly.”

I left him with that thought churning in his newly bisexual head. Would Simon want to top or bottom? Or maybe neither? I really didn’t care.

I didn’t care what we did as long as we did it together.

15

SIMON

After years of suppressing my attraction to men, Parker had fully opened the floodgates. I couldn’t think of anything else—even while sitting in Double D’s tiny dorm room to walk him through his Sports Leadership project proposal. We had the rest of the semester to finish it, but this was our last week to officially get our ideas approved.

“I don’t know,” he said after I spitballed another idea. “Sounds kind of negative.”

I dragged a hand down my face. “D, the point of the assignment is to fill a void. To address something that could be better. Isn’t that, by definition, looking for something negative?”

He shook his head, a scowl on his face. “Just doesn’t feel right to me.”

“Okay…”

While I waited for Darnell to tell me what the fuck felt right, my mind drifted back to Parker. More specifically, to our last hookup almost a week ago. The gasps and moans, the feel of his bare skin under my nails, the first taste of his cock—and the way it didn’t repel me in the slightest, but made my mouth water for more. There was no denying now that I was bisexual.

We hadn’t hooked up again, mainly because we had no place to do it. Being on the down low was a pain in the ass. I wasn’t ready to come popping out of a closet door while trumpets blared or anything, but I wouldn’t care about the frat finding out—especially if it meant I could get Parker alone again—except that no one could know about him. He was too recognizable around campus. If word got out, it could create problems with the team. I couldn’t see the guys being all that cool with it. It was a new day and all that shit, but football was a sport full of guys trying to out-macho one another. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to risk it either.

“…good even better, you know?”

Darnell was talking.

“Sorry, what?”

“That’s the second time you spaced out on me today.”

“I’m sorry.” I popped up from the chair and paced the tiny room. “Didn’t get enough sleep or something.”

Not entirely a lie. I’d been up late, messaging with Parker. We’d been chatting every day again. Sexting. Exchanging pics and videos. None of it satisfied me. If anything, it only made me crave him in the flesh even more. We had to find a place to hookup before I lost the few brain cells I had left that could focus on anything other than my need to touch him again.

“I was saying that I wished I could just focus on making something good even better,” Darnell said. “I like athletics. Sports saved my life, man. I don’t know if there are voids. If there are, I haven’t seen them.”

I nodded, thinking. “Tell me more about why sports saved your life?”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “The usual. Hated school. Skipped a lot. Figured it was going nowhere anyway. Got in trouble at school one day for fighting. Tackled this rude-ass white boy talking racist shit. Thought I was gonna get expelled. But Coach Freeman was there, and he told them to put me in football. Let me get my aggressions out in a productive way.” He shrugged. “It worked.”

I snorted. “You’re the least aggressive guy I know. If you tackled some punk, he had it coming.”

Darnell chuckled. “Oh, he did. For sure. But sports gave me a reason to go to school. Gave me something to be proud of.”

I nodded, thinking. “So how can you convert that into a project?”

“If I knew that, you wouldn’t be up in my private space, asking me twenty questions.”

I laughed. “All right, fair. How about…expanding athletics recruiting to at-risk kids? In the high schools, I mean.”

He wrinkled his nose. “Pretty sure that’s happening already.”

“Okay, then what about creating a program for juvenile delinquents?”

“I wasn’t a delinquent!” he protested. “There you go, making me into a criminal because of one fight.”

“I’m not saying you were. I’m trying to give you project ideas, D.”

He blew out a frustrated breath. “If you say so.”

I checked the time on my phone. I still had an hour until my shift at Tracks, but Darnell and I were losing patience with each other.

“Just hear me out,” I said. “What if there was a program in the schools for kids who get in trouble for fighting? Some sort of athletics program that explores giving them a physical outlet and a place to belong?”

Darnell pursed his lips in thought. “Maybe. But not all kids are a good fit for sports.”

“No, but there could be elements to the program that would benefit them anyway. Teamwork, trust exercises, healthy exercise, and other outlets for stress? I don’t know. Maybe keep thinking along those lines and see if you can come up with something. Maybe it could be optional, like deferring punishment, you know?”

“Maybe,” he said thoughtfully.

I was already edging toward the door. “You got this, D. Keep thinking about the ways sports helped you and how it could help more people, and you’ll find something that feels right.”

He looked dubious. “Okay. You got a hot date or something? You’re sure anxious to get out of here.”

I rolled my eyes. “No. I might if I had any privacy, but between living in a frat and having no car…”

“Oh, it’s like that, huh? That didn’t stop you with Kristin.”

“Yeah, well, Kristin didn’t mind people knowing we were hooking up.”

Darnell grinned. “The new girl is shy, huh?”

I bit my lip, averting my eyes. The idea of Parker as shy was laughable, but I couldn’t tell Darnell that. “Something like that.”

“Hmm. Well, if you need a car, I could let you borrow mine. As long as you treat her nice.”

I was stunned. “Really?”

“You’ve helped me with this project a lot. I know I was frustrating. I’m just stressed because it’s not my kind of thing, you know?”

I nodded. “You got this, though. There’s no right or wrong answer. Focus on something good and ways to make it better if that’s what works for you. Remember that it’s sports, and you know high school and college athletics inside and out. You can find some area to improve.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep thinking. Thanks, man. That helps.”

I nodded. “I better go. I work tonight.”

“Sure. Let me know when you want to borrow the car. As long as I don’t need it for something, you can use it to take your girl on a date.”

“Thanks, D. I really appreciate it. You have no idea.”

He laughed as the desperation came through in my voice. “Yeah, I do. But you best not stain my seats, you feel me? You’ll be paying the cleaning bill.”

I was still laughing when I opened the door. “No messes. I got it.”

* * *

PARKER

I heard a familiar voice in the hall and cracked my door. There, in the flesh, was Simon Prentiss. He was striding down the hall in my direction, phone pressed to his ear as he laughed.

It was too much temptation to resist. As he drew even with me, I reached out and snagged his arm. He startled as I yanked him into my room and slammed the door.

“What the fu—”

I kissed him quick and hard to silence him. Then moved my mouth to his ear. “End your call.”

Simon glanced down at his phone as if he didn’t know what it was. I smirked, enjoying that my kiss had shaken everything else out of his mind. After a brief pause, he lifted his phone to his ear. “Sorry, Chels. I’ve got to help a guy with something.” He listened for a second, then chuckled. “Oh yeah, he owes me big. Catch you later. Bye.”

He hit the disconnect button, then met my eyes.

“I owe you big, huh?”

“Oh yeah. You can pay up now.”

He grabbed my neck, yanking me into another kiss. I let him take charge for a moment, let him hold me immobile as he pushed his tongue into my mouth and kissed me deep. Then I pushed back, challenging his aggression with a little of my own as I dropped my hand and grabbed his cock through his jeans, squeezing.

He groaned. “Fuck. We can’t do this here.”

“We can.” I pulled him toward my bed. “Come away from the door.”

“What if someone sees me leaving?”

“You weren’t in the building to see me,” I said as I shoved him down onto my bed and crawled overtop of him. “Tell them the truth.”

“Yeah, but…but…”

Simon couldn’t seem to finish his sentence as I shoved up his shirt and licked a stripe just above his waistband. His hips tilted up a little, a silent plea for more attention to his cock. I ignored it, moving up instead, nibbling just above his navel.

He sucked in his stomach, hissing. “Jesus, Parker, I can’t think.”

I lifted my head to meet his eyes. “Sorry. I got carried away.” I smiled sheepishly. “You’re just so fucking hot.”

To my great surprise, Simon blushed. “You are too,” he said almost too quietly for me to hear.

I shifted, feeling him hard beneath my ass. He groaned and jerked me forward for another kiss.

“Want your dick in my mouth,” I whispered into his ear. “Let me?”

“Parker…”

I scuttled down, palming him through his jeans. He was already so hard, and he lifted his hips, pushing into my hand. With a smirk, I leaned forward and brushed my lips over the bulge in his jeans.

His hands slid into my hair. “You’re killin’ me here.”

“But you’ll die happy?”

“Who wouldn’t with that mouth of yours working them over?”

I looked up at him, slowly licking my lips. “Thought you hated my big mouth.”

“That was before it sucked my dick.”

I laughed, even as a small part of me wondered if my dick sucking was all that he liked about me. That wasn’t true, I knew. We connected online before we ever hooked up. And we still chatted regularly. It’s just that Simon was different in texts than he was in person. More open, more sensitive.

In person, there was such a sexual charge between us it tended to drown out everything else.

In the hallway, voices and laughter erupted—so loud they could have been in the room with us. Simon tensed, hands tightening in my hair.

“We can’t do this,” he murmured. “Someone could hear.”

I wanted to protest again or challenge him to stay quiet while I took him apart. But I knew he was right. It was too risky in my room, where any of my teammates might hear us.

“Fuck.” I flopped onto the bed beside him. “What are we going to do about this? I’m so horny.”

He laughed quietly.

“You probably like me suffering, huh?”

He rolled onto his side to look at me. “Nah. That ship has sailed.” He lowered his lips to my ear. “Now, I like you moaning.”

I shivered, reaching for him. Fuck risk. Fuck someone hearing. I needed him.

Simon rolled away and right out of the bed. “I think we’ve tempted fate long enough. I better go.”

I looked down at my cock, tenting my track pants obscenely. “You’re gonna leave me like this? You do want me to suffer.”

Simon shook his head. “I had no idea you had such a flair for drama, Reed.”

I pulled a face as I got off the bed. “Call me Parker.”

Simon grabbed my hand and pulled me close. “I’ll see you soon, Parker,” he murmured before brushing one last kiss against my lips. “Real soon. I’m going to borrow a car, and we’re going to go someplace private, and then nothing will stop us from having everything we want.”

He slipped away, cracking the door to peek into the hall—because that wasn’t suspicious—before slipping out. I closed the door and slumped against it.

Then I reached into my pants for my still aching cock. I could smell Simon’s scent lingering in the air, fueling the sense he was still with me as I closed my eyes.

I stroked myself as his words played through my mind.

I like you moaning.

I’ll see you soon, Parker.

Nothing will stop us from having everything we want.

I came with a frustrated groan, dissatisfied even as my orgasm washed through me. I wanted more, so much more.

Simon’s words weren’t much comfort. Could we really have everything we wanted?

If just hooking up took this much effort, I wasn’t sure how we’d ever manage the deeper connection I craved outside of text messages.

It was too soon to push Simon. It was too soon to be feeling this way. But our online flirtation and friendship had muddled my emotions. Our bodies were just now connecting, but my heart was already fully engaged.

And I feared what that might mean for me.

Because how could Simon possibly feel the same? I was still the guy who’d benefited when he’d been kicked off the team.

I knew Simon. He wouldn’t just forget that I’d been his rival before I became his fuck buddy.

16

PARKER

I arrived at House Pledge on Saturday, body wound tight with sexual tension. It had been a long week—each day dragging more than the last as I impatiently waited for the opportunity to get Simon alone. A few more hours of frustration and he’d be all mine. Naked, hot, aggressive.

I shivered at the thought. Time to get to work before my fantasies could run away with me the way my dreams had the past few nights. I’d woken hard—and in at least one instance, on the verge of coming as I stroked myself—with the dreamlike images of Simon so vivid I swore I could still feel his body heat.

Luckily, I had a single dorm room or that would have been really awkward for my roommate.

Cooper and Trace stood in the center of the front yard, handing out assignments to the volunteers who were arriving. It was strange to think that I hadn’t been here since before Simon and I hooked up. I had no idea what to expect. Would he pretend to hate me for the benefit of everyone else, or give me one of those devastating smiles that made me want to drop to my knees and beg? Whatever he did, I’d play along. But I couldn’t deny that I wanted a smile—something to tell me that he wanted this as much as I did.

Because some days, it seemed as if I were obsessed, and I didn’t want to be alone in that.

The two-story house stood regal and stately, looking incredibly different than my first day on site. It was a bright spot of color in an otherwise drab, aging neighborhood. Its owner, too, was brighter—smiling as he stepped out onto the porch to wave to the crew.

“Parker, why don’t you work on the north side of the house today?” Cooper said when I checked in with him. “We’re just touching up trim, and then we’ll be finished! Afterward, we’ll get a round of drinks to celebrate, thanks to my sugar daddy here,” he said, nudging Trace playfully.

Trace gave him a mock scowl. “I knew you were after my modest middle-class income.”

They laughed together in that way couples had when they were sharing private jokes, and it made my heart thump hard and my gaze search the yard for Simon. Could we ever have that kind of closeness?

Online, we meshed so well. But in person, our time since ceasing hostilities had been too limited to really see how we’d click as a couple. Not that we were a real couple. I wasn’t naïve enough to believe we could just forget all the negative history between us.

But the thought of privacy with Simon still made my heart flutter like a schoolboy with a crush.

It’d been a long time since I’d felt anything like that.

Intimacy with anyone was highly unusual for me. I’d barely managed a few one-off hookups with men since starting college—and my relationships with women had been short-lived as well. Football had taken up so much time and energy that I’d been satisfied with nothing but casual sex for a while. But the more I couldn’t indulge my attractions to men, the less satisfaction I took in dating women. It felt as if I were only going through the motions.

Until BiCuriousStud.

He’d given me the one thing I’d wanted deep down. A real connection.

That he turned out to be Simon, who I already had amazing physical chemistry with, was just icing on the cake. It was the daily messaging, the flirty banter, and the joking around, and the bitching about our days that had really hooked me.

Even when we weren’t telling each other anything about ourselves, we were kind of revealing everything that was important. Our personalities complemented one another. I never would have believed it possible if we hadn’t connected online first. Simon hid so much of himself from people, but online he’d let his guard down and allowed himself to be seen. I didn’t know if he’d ever allow himself to be so vulnerable in person.

Simon stood with a few of the guys on the south side of the house. Opposite from where Cooper had directed me. I knew that was probably at Simon’s request from the days when he’d hated the sight of me.

I took the long way around the house so that I could pass by him. I paused to speak. “You don’t have to keep avoiding me here, you know.”

He turned and smiled. “Hey. I’m not avoiding you.”

Score 1 for Parker’s fragile ego.

“Right. Well, I’ll be on the other side of the house. Where Cooper wants me to work.”

His lips quirked in an almost smile. “Well, he’s the boss.”

“Uh-huh.” The other two guys Simon had been chatting with had already turned away to get started on their work. They paid us little attention. “If that’s how you want to play it…”

Simon nudged me a few more feet away from the crew. “It’s not about playing, okay? I can’t work with you.”

I bit down on my lower lip, unsure how to respond. He still didn’t want to work with me? After everything?

Simon lifted a finger, pointing. “See? That right there. How can I concentrate on working when you’re doing that?”

“What?”

Simon took a quick look around, then used his thumb to pull my lip from between my teeth. “That,” he murmured. “I can’t be expected to use tools around you. Someone will get hurt.”

I smiled slowly, feeling a flush of pleasure work its way up my body. Maybe Simon wasn’t ready to fall on his knees and confess love to me. But knowing that Simon wanted me to distraction? Now that was still pretty damn good—and an excuse for avoiding me that I would happily accept.

“Well, we can’t have that. It might ruin our plans for later.”

Simon gave me a searing look. “No, we really can’t risk it.”

I shivered a little, glad the breeze would disguise my reaction to anyone looking. I gestured behind me vaguely. “Guess I should go…work then.”

Simon nodded once, eyes intent. “We’ll play later.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s my line.”

Simon grinned. “I guess you’re rubbing off on me.”

I smirked. “Not yet, but with any luck…”

“Get out of here,” he said with a mock scowl, “ or I’ll never get any work done.”

With a laugh, I headed for my side of the house, pulse already accelerating in anticipation of the night ahead. I had no doubt the sex would be incredible. And I wanted it, badly.

Even if I never got everything else I wanted, it would be amazing. I had no doubt. But I really, really hoped that I’d also get the chance to know this new Simon better.

The one who was beginning to look a bit more like the BiCuriousStud I’d been falling for before we ever discovered our real identities.

* * *

SIMON

After we wrapped up the final touches on the house, Cooper invited the crew out for drinks. I was very tempted to pass on it—desperate to get my hands on Parker—but everyone else said yes, and I’d feel like a real asshole to ditch my friends. Still, it was testing my restraint after a week of barely any contact. Since our aborted make-out session in Parker’s dorm room, we hadn’t seen one another. Hadn’t even sexted thanks to our conflicting schedules. And I was horny as fuck.

Horny for a guy. That was still a little strange. Not in a bad way. The reality just hit me every now and then. I’m bi and I like guys. I’m bi and I like Parker. I wasn’t honestly sure which realization was more difficult to accept. I’d never dreamt that the guy I punched, the guy who’d kissed my ex-girlfriend, might one day be getting naked with me. When I thought back on that scene, I still felt the old jealousy flare—except it’d changed targets. I wasn’t jealous that Parker was kissing my ex; I was jealous that someone else was kissing Parker. That someone else knew how amazing his mouth was. I had a serious infatuation with those lips.

Unfortunately, those lips were frowning just now. Parker clearly wasn’t impressed when I walked right past him to take a seat at the far end of two tables pushed together at the Keg House. But hell if I could handle sitting beside him in public without outing us both. We were both so amped for tonight we’d probably end up making out on the table. Wouldn’t that be a surprise for the rest of the guys?

Trace ordered a couple of pitchers, and we shot the shit, making small talk as Cooper poured beer into mugs for each of us. I pulled out my phone and shot Parker a message.

You’re pouting.

I watched him check his phone, then shoot me a look. He tapped out an answer, and it was a trip watching him type, realizing that was exactly the way he looked all those times we’d exchanged messages back and forth. I couldn’t see his face, just his tousled blond head bent over the phone; his broad shoulders curved forward slightly as he leaned his weight on his elbows as he typed. He looked up, those blue eyes locking on me at the same moment my phone vibrated on the table. I casually checked it as if I weren’t eager to see what he’d said.

I was promised some privacy with you, and yet here we are…surrounded by other people again. When am I going to see you naked?

I flicked my glance toward him, but he’d shifted away to talk to the guys around him. Just as well. We didn’t need to draw too much attention. We might not be fucking on the table, but I felt like every time our eyes met, we were advertising our desire to strip one another and get busy.

Good things are worth waiting for?

He responded within seconds. They better fucking be.

I squirmed in my seat a little, trying to discreetly adjust my misbehaving cock. Tonight could not come soon enough.

“Simon, did you hear me?”

I blinked, realizing that Cooper was speaking.

“Sorry, what?”

“I’m going to spend next weekend with Trace. You cool running the show again?”

I nodded. “Sure. Whatever you need.”

“Maybe skip the paint fight this time,” Trace said dryly.

My gaze went straight to Parker at the reminder, but he wasn’t looking my way. He was laughing, deep in conversation with one of the guys from the work site, Ethan. I watched them critically for a moment, unable to ignore the fact that Ethan was cute, if a little skinnier than I’d like in a guy. He had a liveliness to him, a quirky wit that was charming.

“Why is Ethan volunteering on this project? He’s not in the frat.”

I realized by the way Cooper and Trace looked at me that I must have interrupted their conversation. I fumbled, suddenly embarrassed that I cared. “I mean, I just realized I didn’t know him, is all.”

Cooper and Trace exchanged a look.

“The project is open to volunteers outside the frat now,” Cooper said.

I flushed, feeling stupider by the second. “Yeah, I know, but there’s still not that many.”

He nodded. “Yeah, Ethan knows Linc.” He shrugged. “Not sure exactly how. But he showed up one day.” He paused. “Just like Parker.”

My eyes had drifted back to Parker and Ethan, the pair of them sitting with their heads close together as they continued to talk. I jerked my gaze away at Cooper’s words.

“Parker only volunteered because Coach required it.”

I realized I’d spoken as if I was still on the team. As if Coach Jackson was still my coach. I cleared my throat. “His coach. Coach Jackson.”

“You two have a complicated history,” Cooper said, eyes searching my face for answers I’d rather he not find.

I laughed awkwardly. “That happens when you punch a guy.”

Cooper would be supportive if he realized I was into a guy, I knew. But I couldn’t risk outing Parker. He had a lot at stake if word got out about his sexuality. It could destroy his future. I knew all too well what that was like, and as it turned out, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.

Not that Parker was my worst enemy. No, that would be me.

“Parker seems like the forgiving type.”

I shrugged, trying to look unaffected. Then excused myself to the bathroom, in need of a minute to myself.

I wasn’t sure what had me so flustered: Cooper’s curiosity or the weird twist in my gut when I watched Parker smile at Ethan.

* * *

PARKER

From the corner of my eye, I saw Simon get up from the table. I’d been keeping half my attention on him even while talking to Ethan, who was entertaining a bunch of us with the disastrous story of how his last relationship ended.

“Dude, she did not cut up all your shirts,” Linc said, eyes wide.

“She did!” Ethan laughed, but I got the sense it was a “laugh, otherwise you’ll cry” situation. “She hated my ‘geeky’ shirts”—he raised his fingers to make air quotes—“so she cut all the graphics out of them.”

There was a chorus of voices as the guys reacted to that one. Laughter, sympathetic groans, a couple of sexist remarks about crazy girlfriends. It all flowed over and around me, my focus squarely on the guy who’d left the table.

I tried to wait him out. I really did. But our last text exchange was sizzling in my mind, stoking the fire for what was in store for tonight. I couldn’t sit there, patiently waiting like a good boy, a minute longer.

I pushed back from the table and headed for the bathroom. Simon stood in front of the sink, staring into the mirror. He didn’t look happy. He definitely didn’t look like a guy fantasizing about a hot night with me.

“Uh-oh,” I said as I came through the door. “Existential crisis?”

His gaze flicked past me to the door. “Did anyone see you follow me?”

“Nah. You’ve been in here ten minutes. If anyone noticed, they’d think it was a coincidence.” I gave a tentative smile, unsure of where his head was. “Glad to see you haven’t fallen in. I was getting worried you might have changed your mind about tonight.”

He gave me a hot look. “Hell no. Truthfully, I’m about to lose my shit and pounce on you. That is, if Ethan doesn’t pounce first.”

“Ethan?” I laughed. “Are you joking?”

His lips twisted sardonically. “Yeah, of course. I’m losing my grip on sanity with all this waiting.”

“Then let’s take the edge off.”

I flipped the lock on the bathroom door behind me, and his gaze went hot. Damn. This guy should come with a warning. Beware: Intense stare may cause recipient to come in his pants.

We both moved at the same time, crashing together in a tangle of limbs against the wall. Our lips met so forcefully it hurt. Teeth clacked, and then his silky, hot tongue met mine and it felt as if the planets aligned just for us. Perfection.

Our kiss softened, but it grew no less passionate. We kissed, and kissed, and kissed until I lost all track of time. My hands skimmed under his shirt, absorbing his body heat. He was still firm and muscular, with only a little give as I pressed in against him. Simon’s hands roamed too, dropping to my ass to squeeze.

As he pulled me tighter against him, I tore my mouth away from his to gasp air. Words tumbled from me. “I want you inside me so bad.”

“You…really?” He sounded stunned.

The words shocked me just as much. I’d never bottomed before. But there was something about the possessive way that Simon touched me that made the fantasy spring into my mind. I wanted to feel it, wanted him to pin me down and just fucking take me.

My heart raced as I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, only if you want. I get carried away sometimes.”

Simon’s hands tightened on my ass. “Are you kidding? I bet you feel amazing. I’d love to fuck you if you’re game.”

“Hell yeah,” I said.

Our lips joined in one more heated kiss before Simon pushed me back. “We better get back before someone suspects something.”

I glanced down. He was as hard as I was, his jeans bulging. “Sure you don’t want me to take care of that first?”

He placed the heel of his hand against his dick, pressing hard. “Not helping, Parker. Just back up and give me some space to calm the fuck down.”

I raised my hands and stepped back, grinning. “Sorry. You’re just so hot I can’t help myself.”

He laughed and shook his head. “That makes two of us. Hang back, okay? I’ll head out. You rejoin us in a few minutes. I don’t want anyone thinking too hard about why we were in the bathroom together. And we’ll get the hell out of here as soon as we can.”

I nodded, fully onboard with that plan. My body still tingled with the aftermath of our make-out session and the promise of what was to come as I retook my seat across from Ethan. That made me wonder, what had Simon’s weird comment about Ethan been about anyway? Had he really been jealous?

I slanted my gaze in his direction—catching him averting his eyes. Huh. Simon Prentiss jealous over me? Maybe he felt more than I thought he did. Maybe there was more to this than chemistry and hormones.

I crossed my fingers under the table and laughed along as Ethan told another joke.

17

SIMON

The driver’s seat in Darnell’s car was reclined too far. How the heck did he drive like this? I felt for the lever, adjusting the seat for the third time since Parker got into the car. He was watching me, clearly amused.

“So, where are we going?” I asked as I drove through the downtown district, bypassing Tracks, the ice cream parlor, the movie theater. Ahead, more residential neighborhoods awaited. To the west and east, the highway leading to other towns. And behind us, campus—the one direction I didn’t want to go.

Parker blinked. “You’re the driver. Don’t you have a plan?”

“Uh, not really.” I cleared my throat. “Getting the car was my plan. Should we just drive to some lookout and…”

“Get it on in the car?” Parker looked disappointed. “That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

We both glanced over our shoulders at the backseat. Darnell’s car was roomy compared to some, maybe, but cramming two football players back there wasn’t likely to be too comfortable.

“Kind of thought I’d left my backseat fumbles in high school,” I said.

Parker laughed suddenly. “Did you really get it on in the backseat?”

“You didn’t?”

He shrugged. “Nah. I mostly hooked up in spare rooms at parties. Booked a hotel on prom night, but otherwise…”

Ah, yes. Rich boy privilege. No way I could have ever afforded to book a hotel room. It took everything I could scrounge just to rent a tux. I bet he had a limo too, the whole works. I glanced sidelong at him, taking in his broad shoulders, his lean but strong build, and those long legs. I bet he looked hot as fuck in a tux.

He turned toward me suddenly. “Hey, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That depends,” I said. “What are you wearing in these thoughts?”

He laughed. “As flattered as I am you’re undressing me in your mind already, I think we should find a place where you can do it in reality.”

“You’ve got an idea?”

“I do. Head toward Riverton,” he said. “We can get a hotel room, just like I did for prom.”

“Uh, Parker, I’m not so sure about that.”

“It’ll be great,” he said, eyes bright. “We’ll have privacy, and a bed, and we can be as loud as we want. We can take our time, even spend all night.”

I hesitated, madly trying to add up all my earnings and expenses for the week, so that I could budget in this unexpected twist.

Parker placed his hand on my thigh, squeezing. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Oh, fuck it. I gave up trying to figure out my finances. Maybe I could pick up some extra shifts at the bar or, hell, go without eating for a couple of days. An entire night to fully explore Parker’s body and indulge in all my fantasies? I couldn’t turn that down.

“Do I get a corsage?” I asked dryly.

Parker snorted a laugh. “No, but you get a blow job.”

“Even better.”

We reached Riverton an hour later. Parker pulled up navigation on his phone, directing me step by step toward the hotel he’d chosen. It wasn’t some cheap roadside motel, but it wasn’t the Ritz Carlton either. I could make it work.

He was uncharacteristically quiet on the drive to the hotel, and I was growing more nervous by the minute. We’d had instant chemistry every other time we’d been alone together. I wasn’t sure why it was different now, but I was as jittery as if I were on a first date.

And that’s when it hit me.

This was a date.

A date to have sex, maybe, but a date. We’d made plans, I’d picked him up outside the Keg House about twenty minutes after taking off to get Darnell’s car and pick up some supplies, namely the condoms and lube Parker had recommended via text message.

We hadn’t eaten yet, and it was nearly seven now. As we made the final turn into the hotel parking lot, I blurted, “Should I buy you dinner first?”

Parker looked surprised by my question. Then, he started laughing.

“What?” I asked, feeling my neck and ears burn. Had I been too transparent? Did Parker not think of this as a date at all? That would make sense. We’d hooked up out of lust, not affection. I’d been an asshole in the beginning, full of hostility and resentment. The sex had been great though. And it just kept getting better. Maybe that’s all Parker needed. He had the team, after all. It wasn’t as if he could have a real boyfriend. And Jesus Christ, was I really thinking I wanted to be a boyfriend? My hormones were out of control.

“You’re offering to buy me dinner before I put out,” Parker said, still chuckling, face red from laughing his ass off at me. “That’s cute.”

I glowered at him. “I was trying to be considerate.”

“That’s nice of you.” He nodded, trying to look serious, but the effect was ruined because the fucker couldn’t stop smiling. Another laugh escaped.

I put the car in park and cut the engine. “Okay, let’s go. No dinner for you before I pound your ass.”

Parker grabbed my arm as I reached for the car door. “Wait, wait. I’m sorry. I’m just nervous, and that was funny because…” He grinned again, the asshole. “Well, a lot of reasons. But really, it’s better if I don’t eat before you fuck me. Don’t you think?”

He waited for me to understand, and then I did. And then I felt like an even bigger tool.

“Yeah,” I said, my mouth going dry.

“I couldn’t wait anyway, even if I was starving,” he admitted, his eyes fixed on me. “I want you too much. I feel like I’ll die if I don’t touch you—”

I lunged sideways, kissing him hard. He gasped against my lips and raised his hands to my head, tunneling his fingers through my hair. When my tongue pressed in, he met my advance with a needy sound that sent even more blood rushing to my cock.

I broke away, breathing raggedly. “Let’s get that room before I end up fucking you in the car after driving all this way.”

“Darnell would never forgive us if we made a mess.”

I laughed raggedly. “No, he really wouldn’t.”

* * *

PARKER

The room was nice, I guess. It had a king-sized bed, which was my priority. I took little notice of the rest of the furnishings. I had my sights set on Simon.

The second the door closed, I pulled him into another kiss.

He returned it eagerly, lust a language we both understood.

Checking in at the hotel had returned us to an awkward, nervous quiet that made me uneasy. I regretted laughing at Simon’s suggestion that he buy me dinner. It’d almost sounded like an offer to take me on a date. Why had I laughed? The way he’d blurted it out had caught me off-guard, and I’d simply reacted. But what if he’d thought I was laughing off the idea of dating? That couldn’t be further from the truth.

Of course, I still didn’t know that he’d actually meant it that way. Maybe he was just being considerate, like he’d said. We hadn’t had dinner. Maybe he was hungry. And even if he did want more too, how exactly would we accomplish that when we were both in the closet? Football kept me on the down low, despite being out to my family, and Simon probably hadn’t decided if or when he ever wanted to tell people about his own sexuality. Hell, he’d barely begun to discover his bi side—which was the reason we were in this room, wasn’t it?

My mind had been cluttered with what-ifs during our silent, tense elevator ride up to the room, but the moment our lips met, my head cleared. I met Simon kiss for kiss as we stumbled our way to the bed, already tugging at clothes.

He shoved his hands down the back of my pants, caressing my ass—a not-so-subtle reminder of where this was going. I swallowed hard, thinking of how it would feel to have him push inside me.

“Did you get the supplies?”

Simon swore as he pulled back, and my fantasy popped like a soap bubble. I’d been preparing all week for this event, using toys to stretch myself and get used to the feeling of intrusion, so that I could guide Simon. He didn’t need to know it was my first time. I was supposed to be the teacher, not the student, after all.

“It’s okay,” I said, trying to hide my disappointment. “We can do other stuff.”

“No, I got them. Just left the bag in the backseat.” He picked up his shirt, putting it back on. It seemed as if I’d never get this guy naked. “Give me two minutes to get it. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I’ll use the time wisely,” I said with a wink.

Simon didn’t seem to know what to say to that, but he’d figure it out eventually. While he left the room, I stripped and started the shower. Simon had gotten a chance to clean up and change before getting Darnell’s car, but I had stayed at the bar with the volunteer crew, hanging out so Simon and I wouldn’t leave at the same time. After working at House Pledge, I definitely needed to freshen up.

After stepping into the spray, I grabbed the hotel soap and did my best to work up a lather. When Simon came back, I wanted to be clean inside and out. I washed and rinsed, then luxuriated in the hot water, and before I knew it, the door slid open.

Cool air wafted in, raising goosebumps on my skin. Or maybe it was Simon’s intent gaze making me react.

“Jesus, your body is something else.”

“Something good, I hope.”

“Oh, it’s very fucking good.”

I bit my bottom lip, turned on and flattered as he studied every inch of me, his gaze sliding up, and down, and up again.

“You coming in? I’d love to return the compliments, but you’re wearing too many clothes.”

He smirked. “I do think you’ve mentioned wanting to get me naked.”

“Just a time or two…or dozen,” I said. “But who’s counting?”

He smiled slowly, looking very comfortable as he rested back against the bathroom counter. “I don’t know. Maybe I should stay dressed while I fuck you. I can’t possibly compete with your fine ass anyway.”

“Simon,” I growled. “Take off your fucking clothes and get in here now, or I swear…”

He raised a brow. “What?”

I leaned out of the shower, dripping water everywhere, and grabbed the front of his shirt, tugging him toward me. “I will tackle you harder than a linebacker and rip off every piece of clothing myself!”

It occurred to me a fraction too late that I probably shouldn’t use football analogies. The last thing I wanted to do was knock Simon out of the mood and remind him of the rivals we used to be. But he laughed, seemingly unfazed.

“As tempting as that sounds, I’ll come peacefully.”

I released him, and he stripped off his shirt, baring that gorgeous physique that had first drawn me to his pics on the app. His shoulders and chest were broad, more built than my own lean frame could support, but my focus was below the waist as he unbuttoned his jeans and stripped them off along with his boxer briefs.

Dark hair dusted his thighs, framing a thick cock that was bobbing before him, already hard as he stepped into the shower with me.

Our bare skin finally, finally slid together.

It felt like bliss. Just like I’d always known it would.

* * *

SIMON

Parker was wet and slippery, and the feel of him against me was too fucking much. I closed my eyes as sensations overwhelmed me. The texture of silky skin over hard muscle. The way our cocks kissed as we moved in close, flashes of sensation that shot sparks through me. The hot, stinging spray of the showerhead, pouring over us both, turning Parker’s lips wet, turning our first kiss even sloppier than usual.

When he pulled away, I blinked my eyes, trying to clear them of water. But before I could refocus them, tight heat around my cock pulled my gaze down. Parker had lowered himself to his knees. His mouth sealed tight around my cock, even as water dripped down his face. I groaned at the sight of him like that, eyes wide in a face that looked sharper—but also more delicate—with his hair slicked back. His eyelashes clumped into dark points, offsetting his blue eyes. God, he was gorgeous.

He sucked me intently, taking me deep before pulling back to tease at my head. I trembled, one hand pressed to the wall and the other touching his cheek as I tried to withstand the pleasure. He tried out different tempos—all of them so fucking good, but just varied enough that it kept me from tipping over the edge. I realized he was testing my reactions in order to learn what I liked best. And that was such a turn-on, that someone would want to suck my cock so fucking well that they’d take their time exploring and evaluating like that. Kristin certainly hadn’t bothered.

Her name in my mind, while Parker gave an exquisite blow job, was like watching a play go wrong on the field. I tensed, and Parker pulled back, swiping water from his face. “What is it?”

He was out of breath. Between my cock and the water, it was no wonder. I couldn’t take much more anyway. I put a hand under his arm, urging him to his feet, and kissed him. “You’re too good at that. Let’s take this to the bedroom before I embarrass myself.”

He smirked and looked me up and down. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Let’s hope not. I didn’t exactly know what I was doing, but I trusted Parker wouldn’t let me go too far astray. How different could fucking him be from anyone else? I knew the basic mechanics. I wasn’t a virgin.

Parker handed me one of the towels, and we each dried hurriedly before heading to the bed. I’d left a condom and lube on the bedside table. Parker picked up the small foil package and held it out to me. “Suit up.”

I raised the square to my mouth, tearing it open with my teeth, while Parker squeezed lube onto two fingers. I watched, heart beating hard, as he climbed onto the bed on his hands and knees. Lowering his chest to the mattress, he reached back and pressed his middle finger to his crease. I rolled on the condom, snagging the leftover lube to smooth down my shaft, hissing as the pleasure nearly undid me. Watching Parker was a hell of a turn-on.

His eyes met mine over his shoulder, and he smiled knowingly. Then his lips parted, and I suddenly needed to see what I was missing. I gripped his ass, parting his cheeks to reveal his hole stretched around his finger.

“Damn,” I muttered, eyes locked on that little hole that had to somehow accommodate me. “You sure you can handle me?”

Parker gave a breathless laugh. “Someone has a big head.” He glanced down at my cock. “Not that big though.” He winked.

I could feel myself blush at the double entendre. “I didn’t mean that. Just, you look so tight.”

“Mmph.” He grunted as he rocked his finger in, then out. “If you think that now, you should try feeling it.”

He withdrew his finger, and I edged forward, gently pressing my thumb to his entrance. I rubbed it up and down, then in a circular motion, just feeling him. Parker pushed back against me. “Don’t fucking tease. Been waiting a century for this.”

I pressed my thumb in, feeling his ass clamp around it. “Damn, that is tight.”

“Think about how good it’s gonna feel,” he murmured, but his voice was a little strained. I worked my thumb in and out, giving it a twist. With my other hand, I reached under him, slowly stroking his cock. He blew out a deep breath and seemed to melt into the bed, shoulders and face on a pillow, ass in the air.

I would have felt so vulnerable in that position. But Parker seemed at ease. And why not? He was hot as fuck like this.

“That’s better,” I said. “Relax, and I’ll take good care of you.”

He chuckled, voice muffled by the bedding. “Thought I was the teacher.”

“Maybe we can both learn from one another.”

Our eyes connected, and a frisson of something more than sexual energy passed between us. I felt as if an invisible tether tied us together. Something that ran deeper than flesh and bodily fluids. Something intangible, yet incredibly strong.

“I’m ready when you are,” he said.

And suddenly, I couldn’t wait a moment longer. I withdrew my thumb, applied a bit more lube, and positioned myself at his hole.

Please don’t let me fuck this up, I thought as I pushed forward.

I slid in a few inches before his body tightened like a vice. “Fuck,” he muttered.

“You okay?”

He blew out a breath. “Just give me a minute.”

I rubbed a hand up his spine soothingly. “Of course. Been a while?”

“Something like that.”

“How long?” I asked as I craned my head to the right so that I could see his face.

He licked his lips nervously. “Uh, well…”

I waited, stroking his skin, trying not to vibrate out of my own body or give in to the urge to rut into him wildly. My cock wanted friction, and it wanted it now, but I pushed down those needs so that I could focus on his face. There was something he wasn’t telling me.

“It’s okay if —”

“Never,” he blurted. “I’ve never done this before.”

I felt my eyes widen. “What?” I looked down at my cock, as if it were a sword I’d just accidentally skewered into my best friend. “Fuck, why didn’t you tell me? Am I hurting you?”

“I’m fine.”

I shook my head, feeling myself tremble. “Maybe I should…” I attempted to pull back, but Parker grabbed my thigh, holding me in place.

“No, don’t go. Want you in me.”

“But…”

“I just needed to adjust. You’re bigger than the toys.” Parker rocked back toward me, taking my cock a few more inches into his ass, and we both moaned. “There, see? It’s all good. Virgins can do it too.”

I laughed shakily. “You’re not my first virgin.”

“You player.”

Jesus, this was not how I imagined this going. Parker had been so experienced in everything else we’d done. Hand jobs and blow jobs weren’t new to me either, but doing them with Parker, being on the giving end of them, made them feel like firsts all over again. But I hadn’t expected any different tonight. I thought it would be a first for me, not him. And now here we were, making virgin jokes.

Parker rocked again. “Come on. I’m good. Fuck me.”

I tentatively pushed forward until my pelvis met his ass. “Good?”

“Yeah. Don’t hold back, Simon. I want to feel you hammering away. Pound me like you promised.”

“Oh, Jesus,” I muttered, thinking that I’d been a thoughtless idiot. But my body was already obeying his commands, withdrawing, then thrusting deeper into him.

He moved with me, rocking back to meet my thrusts, to force them deeper. Each thrust in, he cried out loudly. Each draw out, he gasped for breath as if he were suffocating. His entire body trembled beneath me. I hoped it was good trembling. I reached under him, feeling for his cock, needing to know this was good for him.

He was hard. Wet with precum. Thank fuck.

With a breath of relief, I fucked into him even harder.

“Yes!” he cried. “There. Right there.”

I angled my thrusts, attempting to hit the same spot again and again. I squeezed my hand around his cock, creating a tight fist for him to fuck into. Within minutes, Parker was shaking even harder. “Gonna come. Fuck. Gonna come with your cock inside me.”

“Yeah, baby. Do it.” I groaned, vaguely aware we’d tipped into corny sex talk territory and not even caring. “Come on my cock. Wanna feel it.”

He gave a whimpering cry I’d never heard before—not the one time I’d made him come before anyway. This was more primal, more desperate. Warmth gushed over my fingers, and his inner muscles pulsed with the echoes of his orgasm.

“Ah God,” I said as it all became too much. My balls drew up. My cock throbbed. And I came as I shoved hard into his body, trying to bury myself as deeply as possible. I was already in him to the hilt, but somehow it wasn’t enough.

I wanted it all, wanted everything. All of him.

My vision whited out, which had legit never happened before, as I pumped out my release. And when I came to, I was pinning Parker to the bed.

“Simon?” he asked.

“Fuuuck.” I pushed a hand into the bed, lifting myself from him on shaky arms, and withdrew. “Didn’t mean to crush you.”

Parker rolled over as I stumbled back, legs feeling like jelly. He smiled, those wide lips loose and looking a little goofy. “I liked it. Now, get in the bed before you fall on your ass.”

I gratefully collapsed next to him, still breathing hard. “Damn. That was…”

“Some high-quality fucking,” he said, rolling toward me to kiss my shoulder. The kiss there was brief, but something about it felt incredibly intimate. Such a small touch, and yet it conveyed so much gentleness. “I knew you’d be good, but damn. That was amazing.”

I scoffed. “Please, you’re the one who was amazing.”

His gaze held mine. “Maybe we’re both amazing when we’re together.”

“Maybe,” I said softly.

I didn’t know what else to say, so I kissed him and let my body do the talking for me. If Parker understood body language at all, then he’d know I was overwhelmed, amazed, and so, so grateful to have him in my arms.

18

PARKER

Simon rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom. I stayed on the bed, knowing I should clean up and unwilling to move just yet. I wanted to enjoy my afterglow as long as possible. Simon had been great, way sweeter than I’d expected him to be. That moment when he’d realized I was a virgin to anal sex? As embarrassing as it was, he’d reacted with such concern for my well-being that I knew this wasn’t just lust-crazed fucking. At a minimum, we were friends.

The touch of a wet, warm cloth made me jolt. I opened my eyes, watching as Simon ran the damp cloth over my skin, cleaning my most intimate places with a gentle touch. Our eyes met briefly, and I felt more naked than I’d ever been. My breath caught in my throat as he smiled down at me.

“Feeling okay?” he asked. “I didn’t wreck your ass too badly, did I?”

And just like that, he snapped me out of my sappiness. I slugged his arm. “Someone’s feeling good about himself.”

He smirked. “And why wouldn’t I? I just fucked the hottest guy in the room.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m also the only guy in the room other than yourself.”

He laughed. “Oh, did I say the room? I meant, any room.”

“You’re surprisingly sweet.”

He looked taken aback. Because I called him sweet, or because I was surprised? I wasn’t sure. He started across the room before abruptly turning back.

“I’m sorry—” I started, worried that I must have offended him.

Simon hovered at the side of the bed. “No, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve given you no reason to expect me to be anything but an asshole.”

I sat up, wanting to be at eye level. “That’s not true.”

“I punched you in the face, Parker!”

I winced. “Okay, yeah, I could have done without that, but I understand.”

He shook his head. “How could you understand something like that?”

“You were freaking out. All those injuries. The fear of losing the sport you loved. I get it.”

I might not love football with the same passion Simon did, but I could understand how much it meant to him. I could understand how it became someone’s whole universe. Maybe that was part of the reason I’d begun to question my place on the team. Shouldn’t the universe be bigger than one sport?

I wet my lips. “You know, I’d have traded places with you if I could have.”

Simon gave me a death glare. “Bullshit.”

“I would have,” I insisted. “I never wanted you off the team. I liked you. I’ve always liked you.”

The glare intensified, giving me goosebumps.

“Then you should have hit me back, asshole!”

“Sorry?” I said, laughing a little at his reaction.

Without warning, he tackled me sideways, knocking me onto my back and straddling my waist.

“Whoa!” I laughed as he pinned me. “Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t have looked nearly as bad if you’d hit me back.”

“You were fragile—”

He twisted my nipple in retribution, and I quickly corrected, “I mean, big and strong, but injured, bravely, on the playing field where you were king.”

“Idiot.”

I smiled, and I knew I had to look goofy as fuck. “I’ve always been stupid where you’re concerned.”

Simon snorted. “Ditto.”

“Seriously, though, I could never hit this face.” I raised a palm to cup his cheek.

He closed his eyes, and for one brief moment I could see everything I felt written on his face. Simon wasn’t the impenetrable force he sometimes seemed to be.

Then he opened his eyes and grimaced. “Clearly, I can’t say the same thing. I regret it.”

I mock gasped. “Is that an apology? Did Simon Prentiss just apologize for something?”

He scoffed. “Fuck no, I don’t apologize. You laughed in my face. And you could have dodged! You could have fought back. You made me look like a violent asshole. Clearly, this is entirely your fault.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you. Just the situation. You jealous of Kristin and me.”

His eyes narrowed. “Yeah, so?”

I needed to choose my words wisely. “I wasn’t interested in her. Ever. And you were so mad, and I just wanted…”

“Wanted what?”

I grabbed his hips, twisting so that he rolled beneath me. Our legs tangled, and I didn’t ask, just pressed a hard kiss to his mouth. “This. I wanted this. From you.”

“A kiss?”

“Yeah, Prentiss. A kiss. It’s the only thing of yours I ever wanted.”

His eyebrows shot up. I was venturing into dangerous territory. We might both be feeling things, but talking about them? Hell no. Neither of us was ready for that.

“I didn’t know that punch would cost you so much,” I said. “Or I would have kicked your ass, okay?”

He laughed. “That’s better.”

“I told Coach not to cut you loose.”

His lips quirked. “Your powers of persuasion astound me.”

“Hey, I got you into bed, didn’t I?”

“I’m still shocked. How did I get here anyway?”

“I’ll take that secret to my grave.” I winked, playing it cool, while my heart fluttered obnoxiously.

“Seriously, though,” he said, looking up into my eyes. “I’m sorry I blamed you. None of it was in your control. And I never, ever should have hit you.” He kissed me. “Forgive me?”

I blinked hard, stunned by how hard his words hit me. I’d needed that apology more than I’d realized. Not because I wanted him to say he was sorry. I didn’t even care about that punch. I took harder hits on the field on a regular basis, and Simon had been upset, jealous, and injured.

No, I needed the apology because I was so damn afraid he’d never let go of that grudge. We had a history that went beyond online chats and great sex, and neither of us could change that. But if he’d truly forgiven me, maybe it was possible to have a future. Someday, when we were both free to openly love, could we love each other?

“I already forgave you, Simon. You were forgiven the minute I hit the ground.”

He shook his head, looking stunned. “You’re something else, you know that?”

I smiled tentatively. “Something good?”

“The fucking best.”

He kissed me again, and this time, we let our bodies do the talking once more, not stopping until we’d both come to a shattering climax together. Somehow, coming while looking into his eyes—after that heart to heart—I felt even more exposed than when he’d been inside me.

* * *

SIMON

My stomach rumbled loudly almost the second my body stopped quivering with aftershocks. Sex with Parker was incredible, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever been so ravenous for something—hunger pains notwithstanding.

Parker gave a half laugh, half groan. “I’m starving too. Let’s get something to eat.”

“So I’m allowed to buy you dinner now?”

“Yup.” He didn’t sound the least bit repentant. “Priorities, man. You had to feed my other hunger first.”

I got out of bed, naked and sticky, and turned on the shower for a quick rinse. Parker didn’t join me, but that was okay. Probably safer if our naked bodies didn’t get too close until we got something to eat. Otherwise, we were likely to starve ourselves indefinitely in favor of other appetites.

I showered and toweled off, smiling when I grabbed my underwear from the floor and tugged them on. I’d always loved sex, and I’d had a lot of it my first couple of years at Hayworth. As a football player and frat boy, I’d had plenty of opportunities. But damn, I wasn’t sure anything could compete with Parker. Was it because he was a man, and it was all exciting and new? Or was it just him, sexy and feisty and genuine? To think he’d decided to bottom, just like that. No nervousness, no need to compete for top dog position. Just taking it—because he wanted to. I used to be annoyed by Parker’s free spirit, but right now? I kind of envied it.

“What are you doing?”

His voice startled me from my drifting thoughts. I glanced up, catching his disapproving expression in the mirror. “Uh, getting dressed so we can get some dinner?”

He shook his head. “No, no, no. I waited far too long to get you out of those clothes.”

Parker crossed the room to me, slipping his fingers under my waistband and pushing my boxer briefs down. My heart thumped as he sank to his knees, dragging the material down.

“I thought you were hungry.”

“I am.” He looked up, a mischievous grin on his face. “You can order me room service.”

He leaned in, teasing at my spent cock with his tongue. I let out a breath, and even now—after two orgasms less than an hour apart—I hardened for him.

“I could handle an appetizer though,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Go for it.” What else was I going to say? No? Not very damn likely. Once we got back to campus, Parker and I would be relegated to secrecy and little privacy. I wasn’t going to pass up any opportunity to feel that mouth on me—even if it meant I had to sleep for a week when we got back.

Parker leaned in, engulfing my cock with his mouth, and I slipped my fingers into his hair. “What did I do to deserve you?” I murmured.

He hummed softly, sounding pleased, as he sucked me.

I slid my hands down to cup his face. His gaze flashed up to meet mine. “Fucking perfect,” I rasped. “You and your mouth.”

His eyes darkened, and he sucked me more fiercely, taking me deeper, damn near choking himself as he swallowed around my tip. It was so fucking good, it made me want to do the same for him. But listening to his moans, watching his hand work his own cock, I knew he loved every second of this.

That, more than anything else, sent me spiraling to new heights of pleasure. Until finally, I couldn’t resist.

I came over his tongue, watching him swallow in a haze of endorphins.

When he stood and kissed me, feeding me my own taste, I only reveled in the intimacy of it. It didn’t seem filthy, as it once might have. Just one more way for us to share a part of ourselves that no one else got to see.

“Okay,” he said, bopping me on the nose playfully. “You can buy me dinner now.”

“Ah, good,” I said as he turned on the shower, apparently ready to take his turn getting clean. I couldn’t stay, or I’d want to have him all over again, and I wasn’t sure my cock could handle it. Pretty soon, I’d be shooting dry. “What do you want to eat?”

He made a face. “I should say chicken breast and veggies, but…”

“Coach putting the pressure on?”

He averted his gaze. “You know how it is.”

We hadn’t talked much about football, so I understood Parker’s hesitance to say much. I didn’t want him to be afraid to talk about his life, though, and football was part of it.

“Yeah, I remember. It’s okay to talk about it, Parker. I won’t freak out.”

He smiled tentatively. “Good to know. But I really don’t want to talk about it. It’s the last thing I want on my mind right now.”

“Fair enough.”

His eyes met mine. “Order me a burger. This weekend is all about decadence, right? A little guilty pleasure won’t kill me.”

“You got it,” I said, turning from the room before I could be tempted into more pleasure. But I had to wonder. Did Parker consider me a guilty pleasure too? I hoped not, because as secretive as we might have to be, I couldn’t imagine ever regretting this night together. The pleasure I felt with Parker was anything but guilty. Why would it be? I’d gotten lucky.

Lucky that Parker happened to message me of all those people on that app. Lucky that he was patient with me as I slowly waded into bisexuality.

Most of all, lucky that he’d been willing to forgive me.

* * *

PARKER

I woke disoriented and flushed with heat. I kicked off the blankets, huffing in annoyance, until movement drew my attention to the body beside me.

Simon.

Holy fuck, that wasn’t a dream.

Simon shifted onto his back and slung an arm over his head. In sleep, he looked different. More relaxed. His face seemed softer, his mouth slack. Unable to resist, I leaned over and brushed a kiss over those parted lips. He sighed as I trailed little kisses along that jaw that seemed so tight when he was awake, all the way to his throat.

Simon had bought me dinner, as promised. Or maybe as threatened? He’d teased that I’d need the calories before morning. But in truth, we’d both stuffed ourselves and reclined on the bed with the TV on. At first, it had felt a little awkward. Without the sex driving us, we were a little out of our comfort zone. But then I’d trained my eyes on the TV and ordered Simon to pretend we were having one of our late-night texting sessions.

I asked him about his weekend. He made a tacky joke about his first time having butt sex. I made a tackier joke about my first time. Then he’d turned to me and asked, in all seriousness, why I’d never done it before.

I didn’t have a good answer for that. Only an honest one.

“I’ve never really had someone I wanted that way. My hookups are infrequent, and they usually don’t involve night-long hotel stays…”

“You saying I’m special?”

His tone had been light, but there’d been a slight edge to his voice. I hadn’t been sure if it was because he wanted to be special, or because he feared it. I’d played it safe.

“You must be special if you’re getting my ass.”

“No doubt about that.”

Our eyes held a beat before he turned his gaze back to the television. “I never got the appeal of action movies like this. Are our lives so boring that car explosions do it for us?”

“Uh, yeah.” I nudged him. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t rescue little kids and kick bad guys’ asses on the regular.”

He smirked. “Maybe we need to toughen you up.”

“Pretty sure I’m tough enough if I can handle the linebackers slamming into me on the field.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I froze. I hadn’t meant that the way it had sounded. Simon’s body hadn’t held up under those conditions, but I’d never intentionally imply he wasn’t tough. In many ways, he was tougher than me.

“Guess that’s true,” he said blandly. Too blandly.

“Shit. I didn’t mean it that way. I mean, I wasn’t relating it to you—”

“It’s fine. Not like it isn’t true.”

“Simon, really.” I turned to him, grasping his arm. “I hate how shit went down with you. You were the best wide receiver Hayworth had since Baskins.”

He snorted. “Bullshit.”

“I know Baskins was drafted, but I’m serious.”

He shook his head slowly, eyes fixed on me. “You really do mean that, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“But it’s not true, Parker. You’re the best receiver in the last decade. Not me.”

“I don’t work even half as hard…”

“That’s what makes you so amazing. You’ve just got talent oozing out of you. I never would have made the draft. We both know it.”

“You had this intensity on the field that was incredible though. I always envied the way you put everything you had into every play. You were an incredibly smart player, Simon.”

His lips quirked. “Maybe, but that’s all over for me.”

My heart ached at the echoes of grief in his expression. Simon had lost so much. He’d covered it with hostility and resentment initially, but I always knew how much football meant to him. Even if he hadn’t expected to be drafted. Even if this year would have been his last. It was such a shame it ended the way it did. That he couldn’t go out on a high note, with positive connections with the coaching staff and memories to carry him through the transition to a future without ball.

“I wish I could change it,” I said softly.

“You can’t.” He squeezed the hand I’d put on his leg. “That’s okay. I’m dealing. And like I said before, I know none of it is your fault. It’s a competitive, brutal sport. My body couldn’t take it. And even if it could, you’re just better. I used to hate that about you.”

“And now?”

He rolled his eyes away, laughing a little sheepishly. “Now? Well, now I’m just another fan, I guess.”

I reached for his face, turning it toward me and kissing his lips. “I’m a fan too. Of you.”

He smiled wistfully. “Too bad we couldn’t have been friends on the field, huh?”

“Oh, we could have. You were a competitive asshole, though.”

He laughed. “I was.”

“What will you do now?”

He shrugged. “Move on. Make a life in sports administration. Not so different from what might have happened anyway, right? Just with fewer contacts after all the fences I burned.”

“Maybe some of those fences can be rebuilt?”

“Maybe.” He’d sounded noncommittal, and we’d changed the subject. But not before he’d said, “Be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Parker. You deserve it. You deserve all the success I know will come your way. Keep playing for as long as you can, and don’t throw it all away like I did.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I didn’t want all the things he’d treasured. I didn’t deserve football, because I didn’t love it. Not like he had.

But maybe I’d found something else to love. Something else that pulled at my passion.

Simon stirred, starting to wake, as I continued kissing down his body. When he pulled me into his arms and ordered me to sleep, I didn’t object, even though I was already overheated. I let him squeeze me close and drifted back to sleep.

I didn’t know what I’d do about football, or my future, or all the disappointment I’d bring down on the people who loved me if I gave it up. But I knew one thing: I wanted more nights with Simon Prentiss.

19

PARKER

I still ached, the echo of Simon’s cock inside me, as I showered and dressed Monday morning. I relished the feeling, the reminder that the previous weekend had been real. It felt a little like a fairy tale—an X-rated one anyway. My prince charming was sardonic and sweet by turns, taunting me playfully before whispering gentle words in my ear, and I hadn’t been able to get enough of him.

Waking alone was bittersweet. No matter how many reminders my body gave me, the reality was not a fairy tale. There’d be no riding off into the sunset for us. I had the usual packed schedule of training and class and study hall, and Simon would have work. We had texting and pics—and I knew we could work in the odd hookup if we got creative—but it didn’t feel like enough.

I’d been spoiled, and I didn’t want to go back to getting crumbs of Simon Prentiss. I wanted more, and for the first time, I was starting to think that maybe he did too. We wouldn’t be the most conventional romance story. We were rivals for the best plays on the football field, then he punched me in the face, then we connected on an app without realizing it, and finally, we fell in love.

Fell in love. That was a scary phrase. It was out of my comfort zone.

And if it was uncomfortable for me—someone who’d been hooking up with guys for years—how would it feel to Simon?

When I got outside, Darnell was leaning into his passenger-side back door, muttering to himself. I walked up behind him, my heart swelling at the fond memories this car elicited. Like how Simon had held my hand all the way home. The way he’d smiled at me, so easily, as if we’d never been at one another’s throats. Well, to be honest, he’d been at my throat; I’d always just wanted to lick his. But those were semantics that no longer mattered. Simon Prentiss liked me. It was still wild to think of how much things had changed in a matter of weeks.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Darnell jumped, bashing his shoulder against the frame of the car. “Ow! Damn, man. Why you gotta sneak up on me like that?”

“I wasn’t sneaking.” I glanced at the flashlight-type item in his hand. “What are you doing? What is that?”

“It’s a black light. Gotta make sure Simon didn’t spelunk in my car with his girl.”

“Spelunk? Did he go cave diving?” I snorted a laugh, even though the fact Darnell still thought Simon hooked up with a girl this weekend rubbed me the wrong way.

“You know what I mean.”

“He didn’t do that.”

Darnell turned baleful eyes on me. “And you’d know that how?”

Oh, right. I wouldn’t. “Uh, well, it’s just…Simon’s a stand-up guy. If he said he wouldn’t do it, then he wouldn’t.”

Darnell looked skeptical. “Even smart guys like Simon let their dick talk them into stupid things sometimes.”

So many things flew through my head, and what came out was idiotic. “I wouldn’t know anything about Simon’s dick.”

Did I sound defensive? I was a terrible liar at the best of times. Hell, Darnell hadn’t even asked me any questions to elicit this response. I felt as if my face was transmitting every dirty thing Simon and I did that weekend. Thank fuck we hadn’t gotten it on in the car. I’d never be able to hide the guilt.

“We’re gonna be late for training,” I said as Darnell looked at me like I was mid-seizure or something.

He tossed his fucking black light—and why did he even have one of those?—onto his backseat and closed the door. “Yeah, all right. No wonder the guys call you Coach’s pet.”

I rolled my eyes. “Kiss my ass.”

“Man, I ain’t going near that bubble butt. I’m not gay.”

“What?” My heart lurched. Was Darnell onto me? Was he suggesting I was hitting on him, because—

He burst out laughing. “Your face. Dude, learn to take a joke.”

“Seriously? That’s not funny.” I shook my head. “Being gay isn’t a joke or an insult, D.”

“Uh…sorry. I didn’t mean it was a bad thing. It’s just not my thing, is all.”

That didn’t reassure me a whole lot.

I was too raw over my feelings for Simon for my usual restraint. “We all need to get over this bullshit homophobic stuff, you know? There’s a big LGBT population on campus. What if someone heard the shit some of the guys say? Can you imagine how that might hurt?”

Darnell was quiet, and I worried I’d tipped my hand too far. We walked side by side, shoulders brushing occasionally because of the narrow sidewalks, without exchanging a word. As we neared the athletic training center, which contained the gym where we worked out, Darnell cleared his throat.

“Sorry, man. I was trying to kid around, but it was bad form. I can tell the guys to cut it out too.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine. Whatever.”

As fast as I’d gotten fired up, I deflated. I knew Darnell was a good guy and probably didn’t intend any harm. Today, I just couldn’t deal with the homophobic nature of the jokes that bounced around our locker room all too often.

I was a tangle of emotions, amazed by Simon and equally afraid that the real world would never end in a happily ever after for us. Darnell was a decent guy, and he hadn’t meant harm, but these jokes had a way of cutting me. Shallow cuts at first, then deeper and deeper. Sometimes it stung, sometimes it bled.

Worst of all, sometimes I was so numb to it, I didn’t feel it at all.

I tried to shake off the feeling as we went through our workouts. I pushed myself hard, until my muscles burned and my legs felt like jelly afterward. Martinez had to step in and tell me to ease up, which was not par for the course. Usually, he was the sadistic one ordering me to work harder.

Afterward, I wolfed a quick breakfast and went to my classes, but an unsettled feeling continued to plague me. It wasn’t just Darnell’s comments or the knowledge that locker room culture would be unlikely to accept me as I was.

I missed Simon. I needed to know I wasn’t the only one feeling unmoored after our amazing weekend together.

Texting wasn’t enough. I needed to see him, touch him.

More than that, I needed him to reassure me that I wasn’t alone.

* * *

SIMON

When I strode into the campus library Monday afternoon, I was in a glum mood. I was still short on sleep after my sex Olympics with Parker—and since we’d checked out of the hotel and stayed in Riverton until Sunday evening, I had a pile of work to do.

I didn’t regret it. Neither of us had been in a hurry to cut our time together short. We’d woken in bed together, surprisingly at ease wrapped around one another. I’d thought the morning after might be awkward—especially since I’d never spent the night with a guy before—but Parker was so easy-going that it had felt natural to kiss him good morning, have lazy sex in bed, then shower together.

This time, I sank to my knees and gave him a proper blow job. I was still a novice, but Parker enjoyed it. Maybe not as much as he enjoyed sucking my cock, but it was tough to be sad about that. Parker was a very oral guy, and I wasn’t about to complain about being the beneficiary of that.

Even after check-out, we’d lingered in town, grabbing brunch and hitting a “barcade”—a bar full of classic arcade games—for an afternoon of laid-back fun. By the time I returned Darnell’s car Sunday evening—after reluctantly dropping Parker off a few blocks away, of course—I was getting anxious texts from him telling me that if I’d wrecked his bae I’d be dead.

The extra time with Parker had been worth it—even if Darnell gave me a look that said I’d never get to borrow “bae” again. That man had a serious relationship with his Chevy Caprice. Must be all that crushed red velvet. I felt like I’d gotten to know Parker a lot better, and not because of the sex, but because of the talking. We’d started slow, fixated on how desperate we were to gorge on one another’s bodies with the privacy to finally explore at length, but by the time we returned, we were talking comfortably. Like old friends.

Or maybe—my stomach fluttered at the thought—boyfriends.

But this morning, reality had been a bucket of cold water.

I’d woken alone. No warm body in my arms. No generous mouth ready to kiss me awake. I’d spent the night with Kristin on occasion, but all in all, I was used to sleeping alone. So, why did it feel so wrong now? One night with Parker should not have changed my habits so entirely. But there’d been something about cozying up to his broad back, draping one arm over his waist and resting my palm against his tightly ridged abdomen, that I’d liked. He was so muscled, far from soft, so it wasn’t really that he was comfortable. But holding him, holding someone so strong, made me feel stronger. Parker was the more athletic of the two of us, the more resilient on the football field. There was no contesting that. But he didn’t make me feel inadequate. Quite the opposite. He had all that strength, and he simply…handed it over to me.

Now, it was back to business as usual—which was dissatisfying as hell.

Parker had sent me an early morning text, and it’d been sweet, but it only made me miss his presence more.

Just in case you woke up as lonely as I did, he’d written. Below his words was a selfie of him in bed. His blond hair was ruffled in waves, a few pieces sticking up, but somehow he made bedhead look good. Not just good—fucking sexy as hell. His signature grin was in place, a little flirty gleam in his eye, and his shoulders and chest were bare. I could picture him sitting in bed, the blankets pooled in his lap, probably naked beneath the sheets.

He didn’t look lonely. He looked inviting.

You’re a tease, aren’t you? I’d shot back.

In retaliation, I’d sent him a full-frontal selfie while I was getting ready to shower. It was no chore to get hard for the pic; I had a feeling I was going to be jerking off a lot again.

He hadn’t answered. Probably busy with training and classes. We didn’t talk as much during the day, so I went about my business. Made small talk with Cooper in the kitchen while I grabbed some coffee and toast. Went to classes. Then the library to catch up on research time I’d skipped in favor of studying Parker in intimate detail.

Around four, I got a text that I answered with relief. After two hours at the library, I was ready for a break. I rolled my neck, stretching, as I picked up the phone to read Parker’s reply.

Where are you right now?

Library

There was a pause. Then another message came in.

Want to be at the student rec center instead? Alone with me, in an empty bathroom, maybe?

My heart skipped a beat. We’d been so careful leading up to our weekend in Riverton, but I couldn’t resist the siren call now. It wasn’t a hotel bed, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Be there in five.

I gathered up my notes and shoved them into my bag, then packed up my laptop. I left in such a hurry I nearly stampeded Ollie. I was swerving to avoid a collision before I recognized Jonas’s former hookup. He’d been a regular at the frat party scene for a while, but I hadn’t seen him lately. Maybe he’d only been there for Jonas, and my former frat brother was long gone. Living in Colorado, last I’d heard, with a serious boyfriend.

I overcorrected and bumped into the table across the aisle, grunting. “Damn, sorry.”

“Someone’s in a hurry,” Ollie said teasingly. “You’re Simon, right? From Jonas’s frat?”

“Yeah, but like you said, I’m in a hurry.”

It wasn’t the friendliest thing to say, but Ollie was an infamous flirt, and I didn’t have time for that.

He smiled, despite my dismissive tone. “Lucky you.”

“Lucky?”

“Have some fun for me. Me and my guy are both working all evening, and I have a paper to write.” He pouted. “Not going to be much playtime in my future.”

How did he know I was meeting someone? Was I really so transparent? I stared at him for a moment, at a loss. “Uh, sorry?”

Ollie waved a hand. “Go on. I didn’t mean to hold you up.”

I got the glint of gold on his hand. Was that a ring? “You’re engaged?”

I was sure I sounded incredulous. But the Ollie I knew was hooking up with just about every available guy he could get his hands on. Plus he was still pretty young.

He blushed. “Oh, this.” He rubbed at the ring on his finger. “It’s more like a promise ring, I guess? I doubt we’ll get married for a long time. I’ve got two more years of school. It’s just…when you know, you know. Why lie to yourselves?”

I spent the rest of the walk to the rec center thinking about his words. When you know, you know. Was that why I missed Parker so much? Why it had felt so right to spend the night in that hotel bed? Why I missed him ten times more than I’d ever missed Kristin?

I’d never really subscribed to the soul mate nonsense. That there could only be one person for you seemed incredibly unrealistic and cruel. What if something happened to that person? What if they were born on the other side of the world? No, I was sure there were more opportunities for love than that. But, I couldn’t totally ignore the part of me that did believe that when you met the right person, you’d feel it.

Parker was different. It wasn’t just that he was my first time with a guy. It was more than that.

But I wasn’t ready to process what that might mean or how we could ever be a couple when no one could know about us. I could come out. I felt a little nervous about it, but I was pretty sure my grandparents would accept it. My mom and sister would be cool. I didn’t care what my dad thought. The guys at the frat accepted Cooper easily enough. They’d do the same for me.

But Parker didn’t have that luxury. He had another year on the football team. And he really was good enough that graduation might not be the end of the road for him. He might get drafted or signed, and if he didn’t, he might decide to play in Canada or do the arena league for a few years. With the right connections, he could go into coaching and be involved in sports forever.

And what about me? Even with the bridges I’d burned, I was planning to work in athletics. I’d almost certainly have to deal with homophobes, even if I was working in administration.

It was too much to think about now.

Parker was waiting for me—and regardless of our future, I very much wanted him right now.

20

PARKER

Simon and I found places to meet up around campus.

They were dangerously public, and it wasn’t a thrill I was seeking. I craved his touch, his warmth. Unfortunately, we had to rush. We got off, and sometimes we spent a minute or two talking, but we couldn’t really connect. Not like we had in Riverton. I missed that. Not just the night in the hotel room, though the freedom for us to take our time and really experience sex at a different level was amazing, but the day spent in Riverton hanging out, talking about our families, our friends, our favorite video games, and movies, and music. Talking about everything—except what we meant to one another.

That had been carefully kept under wraps. I didn’t know about Simon, but I’d been too afraid to put it all out there. Afraid Simon might not want the same things I did.

I was still afraid, but I was also no longer satisfied with hookups. I wanted more than a fuck buddy.

Today, Simon and I were in an empty classroom in the science building. I’d noticed a floor cordoned off for renovations. The building was fairly quiet after my physics class. I’d hung around one day to scope it out, and it was a relatively safe place to meet up, so I’d texted Simon about meeting me on the third floor.

I sat on a desk at the front of the room, and Simon crowded close, between my legs, as he kissed me. He was a great kisser, and he was so aggressive that I usually melted into a puddle of want for him.

“This is the most privacy we’ve had for a while,” he murmured into my ear.

“Yeah.”

“The door is locked, and I have a condom…”

My heart skipped. Did we dare do that? I liked the thought of him inside of me again. And he was right, the building seemed fairly abandoned right now, especially this floor. Still, I hesitated.

He pulled back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I tried to pull him back into a kiss, but he resisted, stepping back.

“You’re miles away, Parker.” He shook his head, looking disappointed. “If you don’t want this, why’d you text me?”

“I missed you.”

“Well, I’m here. So, what’s the problem?”

“It’s not just the sex I miss.”

The words were out, floating between us. I bit down on my lip and looked away, feeling heat creep into my face. It’s not as if I didn’t want sex with him. But hasty hookups weren’t doing it for me. Even with a smidge more privacy today, there was always the chance we’d be interrupted. We had to keep our guard up, always listening, always just a little on edge.

“Oh, hey.” Simon put his hand on my cheek, gently guiding my gaze back to his. “I miss you too.”

He took a few steps back from me, making me hop off the desk as anxiety shot through me. “Where are you going?”

“Just right here.” Simon took a seat in the first row of seats. He rested his forearms on the desk, leaning forward a little, his eyes on me. “Hi.”

A laugh burbled up. He honestly was so sweet sometimes. “Hi.”

“How are you?”

Despite the playful small talk, his words weren’t the empty platitude I often heard from friends. He wanted to know. His eyes were full of warm concern, and he was about as far from the hostile Simon I’d first known as was possible. This Simon was genuine, sincere.

I knew, instinctively, this Simon cared about me.

“Lonely,” I said honestly. “I have this great guy who hooks up with me and texts me every day. He’s seriously great.”

He nodded. “But?”

“We can’t really just be together, you know? We never hang out. When we see one another, it’s always hurried. Secretive.”

“He might wish it was different too.”

“Yeah?”

Simon unfolded himself from the desk to approach me. He cupped my face. “That weekend in Riverton broke me.”

My heart skipped. “What do you mean?”

His eyes searched mine. “I want another weekend like that. All the weekends. All the days.”

It was my turn to ask. “But?”

He smiled wistfully. “You’re the star wide receiver here. Not exactly low profile. You need to stay on the down low. I can’t change the fact we can’t date openly.”

“I know.”

He studied me for a minute. “But that doesn’t mean we couldn’t be friends. Publicly, I mean.”

“Friends?”

His lips quirked. “Friends who meet up for lunch now and then. Or catch a movie. Or grab coffee. Friends who hang out.”

“Friends,” I repeated, my spirits lifting. “So you’re saying Simon Prentiss can forgive Parker Reed? People will be shocked.”

Simon laughed. “I bet they will. But even assholes can turn over a new leaf.”

“Is that what you’re doing?”

“More like a whole tree,” he said, leaning in to brush a kiss over my lips. “You bring out things in me I never would have expected, Parker. I wish…”

“What?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper against his lips.

“I just wish things were easier, that’s all.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. “This part is pretty easy.”

“Yeah.” He put his hands on my waist, squeezing as he lifted me back onto the edge of the desk. Damn. He really was strong. “Never felt so close to anyone before.”

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him tight against me. “Yeah? Tell me more.”

He laughed huskily. “I miss being inside you.”

A shudder ran through me. “I miss that too.”

He rubbed his hands up and down the back of my thighs. I grew fully hard at the thought of him pushing inside me. We hadn’t had that since Riverton. Never enough time or privacy. There was still a risk, but the room was locked, and with the promise of spending more time with Simon—with knowing he wanted to be with me beyond these hookups too—I was suddenly raring to go.

“I’ll take you out for an early dinner,” Simon said. “Before work.”

I smiled into his next kiss. It reminded me of his offer to buy me dinner before we had sex in Riverton. “Always such a gentleman, feeding me when I put out.”

He laughed into the join between my neck and shoulder, sending goosebumps rushing over my skin. “Shut up. You wanted to hang out, you said.”

“Oh, I do,” I said. “Right after you fuck my brains out.”

* * *

SIMON

We walked downtown, my body still humming from the amazing sex. Our shoulders brushed occasionally as we shared the sidewalk. The right side of my hand grazed his, and my fingers twitched with the urge to hold his hand.

I didn’t.

We might want to hang out more, but we still weren’t out. We couldn’t be, as long as Parker was on the football team. It was just too risky for him.

“Where would you like to eat?” I asked.

He pursed his lips in thought. “Take me to your favorite place.”

“You sure? It’s not fine dining.”

Parker smirked. “You don’t have to wine me and dine me. I’m already a sure thing.”

I snorted. “Lucky for me. I’m too broke to impress anybody.”

“Oh, you already impressed me,” he said suggestively, bumping my shoulder with his. “I can still feel you.”

I laughed a little, feeling warmth heat my face. Parker was so comfortable with his sexuality. Not just that, but with sex in general. I liked sex. I liked to think I was good at it. But I wasn’t much for talking about it when I was dressed.

“Aw, there he is!” Parker exclaimed. “There’s the guy I wasn’t sure I’d ever see.”

I glanced sidelong at him. “What does that mean?”

“Online, you’re different, you know?” He waved his hand toward my face. “This small bit of shyness. This blush. It’s what I might have expected when I met up with BiCurious—”

“Don’t say that stupid name.”

“Stud,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not shy.”

“But you are blushing.”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

He laughed. “Isn’t it my turn by now?”

Parker probably had a point. I’d been an asshole to him enough times.

“I’m sorry for being such a jerk to you, Parker.”

He shook his head. “Nah, you already apologized. No need to bring it up again. I’m just teasing you.” He bent his head toward me, murmuring into my ear, “You look so damn adorable when you blush.”

I blushed harder, even though I wanted to stop. Maybe turn invisible or sink through the ground. I knew Parker was just being playful, but Jesus Christ, I felt like an idiot.

“Please shut up,” I said. “We’re here.”

Marcello’s Pizza Parlor was tucked in a row of downtown restaurants, bars, and shops. A colorful, green awning extended over the glass door. Tracks was two blocks down. I’d have to clock in there before long, so this was a good place to grab dinner. But that wasn’t the only reason I’d chosen it. Parker wanted to see my favorite spot, and this was it.

“Marcello’s is your fave, huh?” Parker said. “Good choice.”

I pulled the door open, waving him through. He smirked at me, and I could just hear the words going through his head. Such a gentleman.

I glared, daring him wordlessly to continue teasing me. Yes, I was fucking blushing. No, I might not stop. Fucker.

Parker heeded the warning and didn’t say anything as we walked up to the counter where a dozen variations of pizza slices were on display.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Parker said as we examined the large menu above the counter, “but why is this your favorite place? I thought Mexican was your favorite food.”

By this point, we’d shared all our favorites in online chats. Favorite food, favorite color, favorite band. I knew Parker loved Indian food, the spicier the better. I was more of a Tex-Mex guy, I’d told him. I want the flavor without burning off my taste buds.

“Yeah, I guess it’s not about the food. It’s the feeling this place gives me. Had a lot of good times here with friends,” I said. “The guys at the frat love it, and they’ve had my back, so…”

The owner emerged from the kitchen, eyes lighting up when he saw us. “Ah, boys. What can I get you tonight?”

We put our conversation on hold to order a couple of slices. To my surprise, Parker ordered the veggie pizza and a water. I selected a piece of taco-style pizza with chopped beef, onions, and refried beans, along with a root beer.

I whipped out a twenty before Parker could even think about paying. He glanced at me, but didn’t say anything until we’d slid into a plastic booth near the window.

“You didn’t have to buy my dinner,” he said.

“I wanted to.”

“But—”

“I wanted to, Parker.”

Wisely, he shut up and cracked the bottle of water, taking a sip. I took a bite of my pizza, savoring the spice of the beef and onions together.

“So, here we are,” Parker said.

“And the world’s still standing,” I agreed.

He smiled tentatively. “Thanks for this.”

I shook my head. “Don’t thank me. Especially not for veggie pizza.” I wrinkled my nose. “Please tell me that isn’t your favorite. I thought you loved spicy food.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, if I eat veggie, I can pretend I’m not abandoning the healthy diet Coach has ordered. The final game of the year is coming up. Not that it’s really a big deal, but… You know how he is.”

Oh, I knew. “Every game is an important game,” I said, emulating Coach Jackson’s tone. “Your bodies are temples. If you fill them full of crap—”

Parker finished with me. “—you’ll play like crap!”

We both laughed as I slid my plate across. “What Coach doesn’t know won’t hurt you. Taste this, it’s amazing.”

He looked from the pizza to me. “You’re corrupting me, Simon.”

“Oh, you don’t want to be corrupted? Okay—” I started to pull back the plate, and he grabbed my wrist, stopping me.

“I didn’t say that.”

With a burning hot look, he picked up the pizza and took a bite. Watching him eat my food was something else. I wouldn’t have expected it to affect me, but a blazing heat spread through my chest. This wasn’t sexual. It was…satisfaction. I felt supremely satisfied that I could give Parker food, that I could make him hum with delight as he chewed.

“That’s amazing,” he said when he’d swallowed. “I might have to quit football if it means eating like this all the time.”

I scoffed. “Not necessary. Just get plenty of exercise, and no one need ever know.”

He smirked. “I can think of one or two ways to burn off calories.”

In truth, calories weren’t a problem for football players. They burned so many calories in training that they had to eat a lot to meet their bodies’ needs. No, the real issue was what kind of calories you dumped into a primed athletic machine. But I didn’t bother ruining Parker’s joke with semantics. I was sure he knew, as well as I did, the reason Coach frowned on pizza, beer, and other junk food.

Parker started to push the pizza back toward me, but I shook my head. “Keep it.”

“But it’s your dinner.”

I pulled his plate toward me. “We’ll trade.”

His eyes widened. “But you looked disgusted by the veggie.”

I laughed, feeling that blush threaten again. “It’s no big deal. I just want you to experience the best my favorite restaurant has to offer.”

Parker looked stunned as he sat back. “I don’t know what to say.”

I laughed, embarrassed. “It’s just pizza.”

He seemed to see right through me. “No,” he said. “It’s a lot more than pizza. But thank you.”

I knew I was blushing again. But this time I didn’t really care.

The door jangled, admitting a crowd of jostling guys. They paid no attention to us as they lined up at the counter, joking around as they waited to place their orders.

Parker and I gazed into one another’s eyes, smiling smugly, feeling like we were getting away with the world’s biggest prank. We were on a date, and no one was the wiser.

21

SIMON

Parker and I meandered across campus Saturday afternoon with no destination in mind. It was a nice day, breezy, but without much chill in the air.

“If you keep feeding me junk food, I’m gonna get too bloated for the game next week.” Parker paused, giving his chocolate-banana shake a suspicious look. “Was that your evil plan all along? Bring down your rival with junk food?”

I laughed. “No, but it’s not a bad plan.”

Parker shook his head. “The betrayal…”

I licked my ice cream, swirling my tongue around the top suggestively while Parker watched.

“Don’t worry. We’ll work it off before then,” I said with a wink.

Flirting this way was different. Playful, rather than overtly sexual. We weren’t leading up to anything. Just enjoying the intimacy that expanded between us in so many little ways.

Since Parker’s confession that he wanted more than quickies around campus—which had matched my own growing feelings—we’d been meeting up to hang out more often. After we went to the pizza parlor last week, Parker had walked me to Tracks and bought a beer while I started my shift. He’d patiently nursed it, waiting for the few minutes I could snatch between customers to talk to him until he had to leave for his study center hours.

The next day we’d met up for a jog around campus. I was pretty sure he was humoring me when he said he needed to get in a run. Parker got plenty of exercise with his team training. But I needed to get back into the habit of more exercise. I’d lapsed since leaving sports. Daily exercise had become twice weekly, then weekly, then bi-weekly. If I continued on that path, I’d be down to semi-annual visits to the gym within a year.

Parker had been a good running partner. We were pretty well matched physically, and he was in better shape than me, so he pushed me just enough to make it a real workout.

But today’s meetup was more relaxed.

After a series of rainy days the week before, we were soaking in the sunshine. It looked as if the rest of the student body had the same idea, though. The campus was buzzing with activity.

The odds of running into someone we knew were high. But we were just walking. And after a few hangouts with no dire consequences, I was feeling too relaxed to worry about it.

“Uh-oh,” Parker said.

I followed his gaze to the patch of green in the center of a courtyard. A little park where a small group of students sat clustered near some trees. In the center, a handful of guys were horsing around with a Frisbee.

No, not guys. Football players.

I swallowed, a surge of nerves tightening my throat. “Okay,” I said, sounding calm. “No big deal. We’re just hanging out.”

“Right,” Parker said, his voice a shade fainter than usual. “We just bumped into one another at the ice cream stand, and… Yeah. It’ll be fine.”

That was all the time we had to discuss it. Hinkel spotted us and jogged over.

“Hey, Prentiss! Long time, no see. What are you guys up to?”

Ten thousand dollar question. “Watching you assholes embarrass yourselves apparently,” I said.

“Hey!” Cruz objected from behind him. “Like you could do any better.”

“I guarantee I can,” I said with a smirk. “What do you say, Reed? Should we show these jackasses how to catch something?”

Parker snorted. “They’re pretty hopeless. Not much of a challenge.”

I felt the old competitive spark ignite inside me. I grinned slowly. “Fine, you and me then. Let’s see who’s better.”

Parker eyed me warily. “Who’s better at Frisbee?”

“Yup.” I was still grinning like a loon. Or maybe like a shark, judging by how Parker looked at me. I didn’t care that it was a silly game of Frisbee and not football. I felt my adrenaline kick in at the idea of a challenge, and I relished the feeling.

“Okay, sure. You’re on. But what do I win?”

I snorted. “You don’t win. I do.”

Hinkel watched us both. “Uh, it’s just Frisbee, guys. We’re not even really playing.”

“I win, you have to help me with a project for my sports leadership class,” I said.

“Okay. If I win, you have to help me rearrange my dorm room.” His eyebrow arched. “I want to move all the furniture.”

A flash of heat went through me. I knew what he was up to. I almost wanted him to win, but my pride wouldn’t allow it.

I strode past him. “Stop fucking around and let’s play, guys!”

* * *

PARKER

I was pretty sure Simon was possessed with a need to prove himself, which made me uneasy. I didn’t want to show him up, but I was an athlete. Like hell I was gonna lose intentionally. Simon would never buy it, even if I did.

So I found myself running full out across the green. Johnston had thrown it long—and it turned out he was a lot better at tossing the Frisbee than the football.

Simon was at my heels. We were pretty evenly matched, but he’d been out of the game for a while. I was going to beat him.

I jumped. My fingers brushed the Frisbee, which Johnston had thrown high.

“Got—”

A weight hit my waist, taking me to the ground. Hard. My shoulder hit first, then my arm and hip. Fuck!

“You dirty cheat,” I groaned.

“Prentiss, what the fuck!” Cruz yelled. “We need Reed functional, man.”

Simon lifted up and nudged me onto my back. He looked sheepish. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to do that.”

I took the hand he proffered, letting him pull me up.

“You didn’t mean to tackle me and keep me from catching that disc?” I asked skeptically.

He winced. “Okay, yes, but I didn’t mean to take you down so hard.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I got carried away. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head, smiling a little. “You don’t have anything to prove, you know.”

He tensed. “I wasn’t—”

“Everyone here knows you were a great player, Simon.”

“Were.”

His voice held a tinge of bitterness, and it was my turn to wince. “I’m sure you still are. I always admired you on the field.”

Simon snorted. “Admired or admired?”

Before I could answer, the guys reached us. Johnston shoved Simon playfully but aggressively. “Don’t be wrecking Reed before the game next week, man. We need him.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you okay, Reed?” Cruz asked.

“I could always take his routes next week,” Hinkel volunteered, showing a little competitiveness I’d not seen before.

“I’m fine, but thanks for the heartfelt concern.”

Simon snorted and raised his hand for a high five. “Well played, Hinkel.”

Hinkel, grinning unashamedly, slapped his palm. “Maybe you could tackle him again? Help me get a leg up?”

“Hey!” I protested.

Simon laughed. “Nah, I’m pretty sure Johnston would kick my ass.”

“Damn right I would. Sports injuries are nothing to laugh at.” He glowered. “As I’m sure you know, Prentiss.”

Simon sobered. “I do.”

“How about we play Frisbee and you leave the tackles to the linebackers, huh?” Cruz added.

Simon nodded, lifting his hands. “No more unnecessary roughness. Got it.”

Johnston held out his fist for a bump. “Miss you on the field, bro.”

Simon didn’t answer.

As the guys jogged across the green, I turned to him. “You okay?”

“Isn’t that my line?”

I rolled my shoulder. It was a bit sore, but no serious harm had been done. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? I hit you pretty hard—”

“I’m sure,” I cut in, then eyeing him hard, I said, “Don’t think I can’t handle anything you dish out, Prentiss. In a fair game, you’re going down.”

He laughed, looking relieved. “I hate to say it, but I’m pretty sure you’re right.”

“You’ll only beat me if you start hitting the gym more often, pretty boy,” I added with a wink.

He gave me a mock glare. “It’s not over yet.”

“Then bring it.”

* * *

SIMON

We played Frisbee for the next hour with the guys, and it was an exercise in self-flagellation. Not only because Parker whipped my ass, always a step ahead as we raced after the Frisbee, but because we were so close—running side by side, brushing against one another, pushing and shoving playfully.

I didn’t tackle him again, as promised, but we still touched one another. And each time we did, the urge to grab him and kiss him senseless grew inside of me.

Some of the other guys joined in the game once I’d toned down my competitive streak. Hinkel tried to keep up with us. My ego stung that Parker beat me so easily, but at least I was still outplaying the younger wide receiver.

By the time we called it quits, I was panting and sweating—and horny as fuck.

“I win,” Parker said. “Time to pay up.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. I gotta collect before you can dodge me.”

“We’re going for pizza. Wanna come?” Cruz asked.

Parker shook his head. “Nah. I’ve been eating junk all weekend. Think I’ll skip this one.”

“Cool. See you guys later.” He socked Simon in the arm. “Good to see ya, Prentiss. You gave Reed a good run for his money.”

I rolled my eyes, muttering, “Not good enough.”

It bugged me that I’d let myself lose my edge. I’d been wallowing in self-pity for too long. Maybe I couldn’t play football with the team, but I could still compete in club sports. Keep active and in shape. I loved the thrum of adrenaline in my veins and the rush of endorphins as I competed.

Playing today—even though it wasn’t a real sport—reminded me of that. It was time to stop grieving and time to start filling the void in my life. That’s what my After Sports project was all about, after all. Finding fulfillment beyond a single sport. I’d thought that meant defining yourself as something other than an athlete. But maybe I’d been thinking about it all wrong. There were a lot of ways to be an athlete. Maybe it was just the definition that needed some work.

I filed that away for more thought as Parker nudged me. “Let’s go. I’ve got a lot of furniture to move.”

I snorted, heading toward the sidewalk with him after waving off the guys. “You really think that’s fooling them?”

“What?” he asked innocently.

“Furniture.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You actually want to rearrange your room, not—”

Parker jerked me into a narrow path running between the science and engineering buildings. Crowding me up against the brick exterior, he kissed me hard.

“No, I don’t give a fuck about my room,” he said, breathing hard, eyes locked on mine. “But their hetero minds will never suspect anything.”

“No?”

“No.” He kissed me again, slipping his hands under my shirt. “It’s completely safe.”

Parker was fooling himself. It was risky as hell. But I wanted him too much to protest. The guys we’d played with were going out for dinner. If we hurried, I could be gone by the time they returned.

“Then let’s go,” I rasped. “Time’s wasting, and we have to move at least some furniture before I leave. Just in case anyone checks.”

Parker laughed, breath gusting against my neck. I shivered as he pulled away. “You worry too much, Sunshine.”

“Maybe, but someone’s got to look out for you,” I said. “I won’t be the reason you have problems with the team.”

He opened his mouth, looking ready to protest again, but then just shook his head. “You don’t have to come back with me if you’re worried. I know you’re not out. I don’t want to create problems for you either.”

I tugged him into another kiss. “I’ve got nothing to lose. You’re the one taking a risk.”

Parker drew back, pulling me by the wrist to follow him. “I can handle it, Prentiss. Just follow my lead.”

As if I could do anything else. I’d been following Parker’s lead since the moment he messaged me on that hookup app.

* * *

PARKER

The second we got to my room, Simon lost all his reservations. He shed his clothes and followed me into my bed.

We weren’t exactly fresh daisies after all that running and sweating in the sun, but there was something primal about it that did it for me. The smell of us both mingled, the musk of our sweat, the spicy tang of aftershave, and a slight hint of grass. Our sweat-slick skin slid together. It shouldn’t have been appealing. But it gave everything a visceral quality. It anchored me in the moment, imprinted our movements into my sense memory.

Simon pushed me onto my front, pinning me as he reached for the condom and lube. He fingered me roughly, impatiently, and my nerves fired up. Despite the rough handling, I craved more. Craved him.

I’d never really thought of myself as a bottom, but I loved the way he filled me. Loved how it made me feel taken and claimed. The way his entire body surrounded and dominated me. It was overwhelming sometimes, how much it made me feel.

When Simon pushed inside me, we both moaned quietly. I shoved my face into the pillow to muffle my sounds as he pulled back and thrust in harder, angling to stimulate my prostate.

“Fuck, you feel so good. So tight. This ass is a national treasure.” He palmed a cheek and squeezed.

Simon talked a good game while having sex. Later he’d blush if I brought it up. I loved it, though. Loved that he lost his inhibitions when we connected like this.

I lifted my face from the pillow to rasp, “Go harder.”

“Oh, hell yeah.” He slammed forward, his pubic bones smacking my ass. The force made my balls swing and my cock rub against the sheets beneath me. “You can’t get enough, can you?”

I shook my head, unable to speak.

Simon pushed my shoulders down, and my ass only raised higher as I pushed back into his thrusts. “Yeah, baby. You want it deep,” he murmured. “I’m there. So deep in you that I’m part of you now.”

I groaned into the pillow as his words and his cock both hit me just right. My body lit up. He slowed, making me feel every inch as he rocked into me. Deep, deeper. We really were one entity now, both straining toward the same conclusion.

Simon reached under me and enclosed my cock in his fist. The motion of our bodies pushed my cock through his tight grip. I could feel him everywhere: inside me, outside me, all around.

I tensed with building pleasure, body coiled tight, and released with a muffled cry.

Simon followed shortly after, collapsing on me, cock still impaling me as he quaked through his orgasm.

“So good,” I slurred.

“Mm-hmm.” He sighed, then chuckled. “Now, we have to move furniture.”

“Fuck that.”

“Your great idea, not mine,” he said as he carefully withdrew. I felt empty without him, but I was roasting under all the body heat. We couldn’t remain joined forever, no matter how much I loved the feeling of Simon deep inside me.

“I’ll tell the guys we got back here and decided we were too tired.”

Simon kissed my shoulder. “If you’re sure.”

“More than sure.”

“And if anyone heard all that noise?”

I shrugged. “I’ll think of something.”

Simon sighed. “We can’t keep doing this.”

I sat up, heart kicking. “What do you mean?”

“We’re taking too many risks.”

I blew out a relieved breath. I’d thought for a second that he wanted to call quits on us. I wasn’t ready for that. Each day, I wanted more, not less.

Simon was worried again, though—now that sex wasn’t driving him. He wasn’t wrong about the risks either. We were bound to get caught if we kept pushing the limits of secrecy.

“I’m tired of living this way,” I said. “Hiding, you know?”

Simon picked up his shirt from the floor. “I get it. But you’ve got a lot to lose. Some of the guys might be cool if they found out, but a lot of them wouldn’t. I don’t think Coach Jackson is the most progressive guy either.”

“I know,” I said, watching as Simon tugged on his shirt. “But what if I don’t care?”

He shook his head, smiling as he stepped into his shorts. “Of course you care. You’re poised to be the MVP next season, Parker. I can’t ruin that for you.”

“It wouldn’t be on you—”

He leaned over the bed and kissed me. “I love that you want to be free to date openly. But I don’t mind, Parker. You’ve still got your dream. Hold on to it, okay? I’ll head out, and no one will be the wiser.”

I watched silently as he finished dressing and left, trying and failing to find the words to explain to him:

It wasn’t my dream. Not anymore.

My dreams had changed. And the thing I wanted more than anything else?

Was Simon himself.

22

SIMON

I adjusted my laptop bag strap and pulled my vibrating phone from my pocket, then did a double-take at the Caller ID. “Grandma? Everything okay?”

“Simon, honey! Everything is wonderful. I’m so glad I reached you.”

That was Grandma, always sunny and optimistic. In contrast, Grandpa was prone to grousing and grumping everywhere he went.

Not so different from Parker and me.

The thought startled me, but I didn’t have long to dwell. Grandma was chatting excitedly.

“Your sister met the nicest man, and he’s been treating her like gold. She’s taking those online culinary classes already. Did you know?”

“Uh, no.” Chelsea had mentioned the possibility, but I thought I’d have time to change her mind. She shouldn’t have to give up her dream because I’d fucked up. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I’ll graduate soon, and I’ll help pay for her to go to a real school.”

“Oh honey, it’s real enough. She’s been baking Grandpa and me the most delectable treats! She wants to open her own bakery. She said the restaurant business is too stressful and the hours are awful. She has to think of Joey too, you know.”

I frowned. “We’d all help with Joey. She should do what she wants, not—”

“This is what she wants, dear. You really need to trust her to know her own mind.”

What could I say to that? I suspected she was trying to be practical. She didn’t think she should work long hours in a competitive field with a child to raise. But that didn’t mean that in her heart, she didn’t long to be a chef. I would help her, though. Grandma and Grandpa would too. Same as they’d done for me.

“I just want her to know I’ll support her in whatever she wants to do.”

“Good,” Grandma said, as if that was the end of the conversation. “But that’s not why I called.”

“No?”

I shifted forward in line at the rec center coffee stand. It was still four deep, but I’d have to wrap this call up soon.

Despite showing me up at Frisbee—and really, I should have known, because Parker always shows me up—he’d offered to meet me at the library to study with me. The least I could do was bring coffee.

“No,” Grandma said. “I wanted to tell you Grandpa and I are coming up for Parents Weekend!”

My heart leapt. “What? Why? Grandma, you remember I’m not in football anymore. I won’t be playing.”

They’d supported me by attending in past years. But I hadn’t expected them to come up this year. There was nothing to see.

“Simon, honey, you know we love you. Football has nothing to do with it.”

“I know, but I won’t be playing, so there’s no reason for you to come all that way.”

“Of course there is.” She sounded indignant. “We haven’t seen you since Christmas, and that wasn’t a happy time for you. You’ve sounded better these past few weeks. Your emails have been more upbeat.”

I edged forward in the coffee line. “I guess I’ve been adjusting.”

“As you should. It’s heart-breaking, of course, but you have a whole life ahead of you.”

A life without football.

Though, perhaps, a life of athletics still awaited. Perhaps I could channel my passion into other aspects of sports. Or even football. With my degree in sports management, I was bound to work with athletic programs in some capacity.

“You’re right, Grandma. Playing football was never going to be forever.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You were better than that Hanson kid that got drafted.” She sniffed.

I laughed. That was not even remotely true, but that was Grandma. Supportive, even if it meant deluding herself.

“It’s nice you want to see me, Grandma, but—”

“No buts, no sir,” she said sternly. “We’re coming up. And now that you don’t play football, you can show us the frat. Your father went there too, and we’d love to see it.”

The frat? Oh, hell no. “It’s not really suitable for—”

“We want to see it, Simon. We want to know about your life!”

“Okay…”

“And I especially hope to see you smile again, dear. It’s been too long. We’ll be there by Saturday afternoon. Love you, honey! Bye!”

Like a tornado, she leveled me and then was gone. I re-pocketed my phone and stepped up to the counter in a daze. “A caramel macchiato and an Americano with an extra shot. Thanks.”

I watched the barista make the drinks and handed over my credit card. The whole time my head circulated one question. How can I make our frat house—our beer-stained and condom-strewn frat house—ready for a visit from my grandparents? And on the weekend right after a party too?

I fired off a text to Cooper, hoping he knew what to do. I’d have to get the guys to help me in an emergency cleaning session, and no one would be better at getting them to rally than Coop.

Otherwise, I’d never be able to show my face to my grandparents again.

* * *

PARKER

I arrived at the library before Simon and chose a table in a quiet area on the second floor. While I waited, I texted to let him know where I was and scanned the building for good hookup spots.

When I realized what I was doing, I rolled my eyes. This secret relationship stuff had corrupted me. Before Simon, the only places I’d ever had sex were in a bed—either at hotel or on the sly while my parents were away. That was laughable now.

Simon arrived, smelling of aftershave and coffee. His thick, dark hair fell over one eye as he leaned in to set a cup before me. “You really didn’t have to study with me. I know you get plenty of study hours in already.”

I watched him unload his laptop from his bag before settling in the chair across from me. He took a quick sip of his own coffee before setting it aside.

“I’m taking an extra class this semester, so I’m a little behind.” I raised my cup, sweet caramel bursting on my tongue. Simon had remembered my favorite coffee. “Thanks for this.”

“Sure. Why the extra class?”

“I changed the focus of my major from secondary education to elementary.”

I hadn’t yet told my parents about the switch. It meant I’d work with grade-schoolers instead of high school students. It also meant I wouldn’t be doing any coaching unless it was for a rec league.

Which sounded pretty good to me, but I had no idea how they would take it.

“Oh, so what grade would you teach?” Simon asked.

“First grade, I hope. I want to get the kids before they’re totally corrupted.”

He chuckled. “So you can do the warping of young minds?”

“Exactly.” I grinned. “Might as well mold them to be decent human beings.”

“That’s a nice thought.”

I nodded. “I have to finish all my requirements in time for student teaching next spring.”

“I kind of thought you’d teach high school.”

“So that I could coach?” I guessed. When he nodded, I said, “That was the original plan. But… I don’t know. I like younger kids. And if I’m going to leave football behind, I just want to leave it behind.”

Simon smiled wryly. “Wish I could have had that attitude about leaving the team. Actually, that’s what inspired this project I’m doing.”

“What is the project?”

He turned the laptop toward me. The title page read, Life After Sports: A program for student athletes.

“That looks interesting. What’s in this program?”

“Well, I’m still developing it. Mainly it’s a program to encourage athletes to think harder about life after sports. Not just a fallback career. Most of us have that, right? But more about creating a life that’s well-rounded, you know? Like…forming an identity beyond your position on your team. Making friends outside your sport. Finding interests. All those voids that suddenly appear when you have to leave your team or graduate to new things.”

My heart clenched, thinking of how Simon must have hurt when he was cut from the team. How lost he must have felt to create an entire program to address that loss.

“That’s a great idea,” I said.

He shook his head. “I’m struggling with it a little. Is it realistic? I’m not sure I would have listened, even though I knew football wasn’t forever, you know? I loved it, and I was determined to keep loving it and worry about the aftermath later.”

I nodded. “I think…it’s about planting a seed, you know? Getting them to start thinking about it. It won’t work for everyone, but then, what does?”

“Good point.” Simon sighed. “I don’t know. I just felt so unprepared to have my world cut out from under me.”

I reached across the table, clasping his hand briefly. I wasn’t sure I even cared if someone saw. “I get it. Moving on is hard for a lot of people.”

“Well, with any luck, you won’t have to,” he said with a wistful smile. “If anyone at Hayworth can get drafted or signed, it’s you.”

I tensed. “Not too likely.”

Hayworth had a couple of draft successes in its recent history, fueling hopes that it could happen again. It used to fuel my hopes too. Now I wished I could rewrite that history to make my change of heart easier for others to swallow.

It wasn’t something I thought Mom would understand. Dad would be okay. While he loved football and was proud of my accomplishments, he wasn’t as driven by lofty dreams as Mom was. Mom was a superfan, which was great, because she’d always been so supportive of me. But she also checked in with Coach, kept tabs on me a little too much, and watched and read every scrap of sports industry news to feed me tidbits about team business plans, player trades, and drafts.

But I didn’t want to go pro. I wanted Simon in my future—not the limitations that would come with being in the NFL.

I couldn’t be me if I went pro. I couldn’t have the life I really wanted.

I’d continue to be closeted. I’d have to watch what I said and did even more than I did now. And I’d push my body to the brink of its physical limitations, only to last a handful of years.

No, I was ready for something else. Not that anyone would ever understand. Walking away from the possibility of fame and fortune wasn’t easy. Even though I was relatively sure it was right for me, it felt wrong. Like throwing away a winning lottery ticket.

But the ticket came at a steep price.

“You’re a natural talent,” Simon added. “It comes easily to you. Not everyone has that gift.”

I wanted to dismiss his words, but I knew that they cost him. Simon would have rather died than compliment my athleticism a few months ago.

“Life after sports still comes, whether it’s at the end of college or a few years down the road,” I pointed out. “Even if you go pro.”

“I guess that’s true. At least then, you’ve lived the dream, right?”

“Right,” I echoed.

This would be the perfect opening to explain that I didn’t want to live the dream. But listening to Simon’s wistful words, the ache he must feel in his heart where football once belonged, I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t tell him that I didn’t want the one thing he’d longed for most of all.

23

SIMON

People streamed into the frat house Friday night. Dirty, messy, disgusting people who were sure to leave spills and stains and trash—empty cups, condom wrappers, and who knew what else?—all over the house that my grandparents were going to see in less than twenty-four hours.

I groaned inwardly. Why had I joined a frat again?

Of course, they’d saved my ass when I lost my scholarship. Without their free room and partial scholarship, I might not even be in school. I wouldn’t have met Parker. I’d probably be back home, more bitter than ever, instead of picking myself up and moving on.

I forced a semblance of a smile onto my face as I checked a redhead’s ID, then stamped her hand when she held it out. Over-21’s received a stamp so they could get served beer. We couldn’t entirely prevent underage students from drinking, but we did our best to prevent any outrageous oversights.

Ever since a kid had nearly died of alcohol poisoning, the whole Greek system at Hayworth had agreed to take the issue seriously. It was that or be shut down by the university.

I waved the redhead through, checked the next ID, and the next. After a while, Linc took over for me so that I could make a circuit of the party.

I’d volunteered for the unpleasant duty of DSS—designated sober schmuck—in the hopes I could keep a handle on just how messy this party got. I had no doubt I’d be up at the crack of dawn to clean like a madman, but anything I could do tonight could potentially mitigate the damage.

Sadly, Cooper had a brunch in the morning, so he wouldn’t be much help to me in making the house fit for family to see. I’d extracted reluctant promises from a couple of younger frat brothers to pitch in, but I wasn’t holding my breath. They’d probably be hungover.

I wound through the party, the chatter washing over me as I eyed all the surfaces covered in abandoned beer cups. At least the food was mainly contained to the kitchen, where people stood grazing at a spread of chips and crackers and cheese. No doubt, the counters and floor would be covered in crumbs. That was the least of my worries, though. If I could ensure my grandparents didn’t stumble upon any condom wrappers or random undergarments—and that the house didn’t reek of beer—I’d be happy.

Linc had been ecstatic when I’d volunteered for DSS duty. He often got stuck with it as an underage but senior member of the frat. He couldn’t drink anyway, so it made sense. And he wanted a room at the frat next semester, and a seat at the table as a leader, so he could hardly refuse.

“Aren’t you working?” Cooper had asked me.

I spent most weekends behind the bar at Tracks. But with Grandma and Grandpa coming up, I’d requested the weekend off.

“Nope. I have to keep you idiots from burning down the place before my grandparents see it.”

Then again, if the house burned, my family wouldn’t see anything too embarrassing.

“Awesome!” Linc was all smiles. “People will listen to you better anyway. You just glare, and they do what you want.”

Cooper snorted a laugh. “Kind of true.”

I shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d been told I was intimidating.

And now that glare was in full effect as I watched a guy tip his cup and pour beer in a stream onto the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I snarled as I grabbed the cup, tilting it upright.

“Oops!” He laughed. “Sorry, man.”

I rolled my eyes and turned on my heel, taking the cup with me. I’d grab a towel and save myself a sticky mess tomorrow.

“Hey, what about my beer?” he called out.

The cup was still a third full. Fuck that. I called back over my shoulder. “You’ve had enough for the night!”

I heard him protesting, but I ignored it and went to the kitchen sink to pour out the rest. Then, grabbing the roll of paper towels, I returned to the scene—where, of course, people were already walking through the beer.

Jesus Christ. I suddenly felt like my mother when she’d yell at us for tracking mud through the house.

I crouched down, pushing at legs, to get people to clear out and mopped up the spill. “Fucking slobs,” I muttered to myself. “No respect.”

“Simon?”

I glanced up, startled to hear Parker’s voice.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sounding amused.

“What’s it look like?”

“It looks like you’re trying to clean in the middle of a frat party.” His lips twitched. “I admire the sudden dedication to cleanliness, but I’m pretty sure you’ll be on your knees all night.”

I felt heat rush to my cheeks at the sexual tone to his voice. No doubt he was picturing me on my knees in a very different context.

“What’s going on?” Darnell, Johnston, and Cruz all crowded in. “You two aren’t fighting again?”

I surged to my feet, suddenly needing to be at eye level. “Hell no.”

Johnston chuckled. “Parker would probably be the one on the floor if they were.”

“Hey!” Parker tried to shove Johnston, but he barely swayed from the effort. “Fuck you. I could sucker punch Simon.”

Cruz snorted. “You’re too nice.”

I winced. The guys were right. Parker was far nicer than me. I didn’t deserve such a great guy. Especially after I’d sucker punched him. I’d apologized to Parker, of course, but I felt the need to make amends again.

“I was an asshole to Reed,” I said. “I never should have hit him.”

“We know,” D said.

There was an awkward lull. Then Parker, ever the peacemaker, said, “Ancient history.”

“Right,” Johnston agreed, head bobbing. Cruz nodded along because those two were always in sync.

“So, what’s going on with the cleaning during a party?” Parker asked.

I caught a glimpse of a kid hunching over, hand clamped over his mouth in the universal sign of, I’m about to barf.

“Shit!” I glanced around wildly for something, anything to prevent the inevitable mess. The cleanup would be bad enough without vomit in the mix. Despite all the drinking, puking accidents were rare. Most people got themselves outside, but there were way too many people between this guy and the door. He wasn’t going to make it.

My gaze landed on a large bowl of chips on the kitchen counter. I rushed over, dumping the chips onto the floor. Irony, right? Cleaning up chips was better than cleaning up puke, though.

I ran, shoving people out of the way, and extended the bowl just in time. A horrendous sound escaped the guy, and he clutched at the bowl as if it was his saving grace. I backed away as nature took its course, and the people crowded around him suddenly parted like the red sea, wrinkling their noses, most of the girls squealing in disgust while the guys laughed and made fun of the poor schmuck. Society at its finest.

He glanced up, still green at the gills. “What should I…”

I answered from a few feet away. “Take it outside and hose it out. By the corner of the house out front.” I pointed, and he obediently slunk outside. I was pretty sure if he wasn’t pale from puking, he’d be red from embarrassment.

From there, it was one mess after the other. Arguments and sloshing beer. A sorority girl throwing beer in a frat guy’s face. Dorito-dusted fingers being smeared on the sofa—right next to a couple going at it like this party was their personal porn video. Fucking hell. I’d have to make sure Grandma and Grandpa didn’t sit on any of the furniture. A quick, thirty-second tour. I’d insist on taking them to lunch. That would work, right?

I made another circuit of the house and the front and back yards, checking hands to make sure no under-21’s were obviously drunk. As I rounded the corner of the house, I spotted a used condom in plain sight on top of the shrubbery.

“Ugh, animals.” I wasn’t touching that with my bare hands. I’d have to make a sweep of the yard, too, tomorrow. While wearing gloves. Because no. Just no.

By the time I made it inside, I was tightly wound, and the glare had morphed into low-key murderous rage. People took one look at me and scurried away.

Then Parker stepped into my field of vision. “Okay, you’re coming with me.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You look ready to do violence. I think you need to take a break from whatever…this is.” He grabbed my arm and began to pull me toward the stairs.

“Where are we going?”

“To your room. You can take a breather, and the messes will still be there when you get back.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I muttered.

But I trailed after him like a puppy, nonetheless. I was pretty certain at this point that I’d follow Parker anywhere—anywhere possible, that is. I wasn’t so sure I could follow him if he really did get drafted to the NFL. He’d leave me behind, and rightly so. It was the dream of a lifetime.

The thought made me sad, though.

I hoped he’d make it. I really did. At the same time, I couldn’t help picturing a different life. Parker teaching first grade. Me working with an athletic department in the same town. Both of us coming home to each other.

But that dream was selfish. That dream was the ideal for me, not for Parker. My dream would undoubtedly be a disappointment for Parker, just as it had once been for me. And I didn’t want that for him.

I wanted him to get everything his heart desired.

“Which room, Simon?”

His question brought my spinning thoughts to a halt. Jesus. The way I was mooning around, you’d think I was in love with Parker Reed.

I felt flustered and unsettled. I wasn’t in love. Was I? Could you love a guy you’d hated just a few months ago? I liked him. A lot. I wanted to see him every day. Talk to him, kiss him. He made me smile more, made me laugh. None of my exes had accomplished that. I was too damn serious for my own good sometime.

“Simon?” he prompted again.

“Sorry.” I cleared my throat and pointed to the third door down. “Right there.”

Parker led me inside and closed the door behind us. He turned me around, kneading my tense shoulders. “So, what’s going on with you?”

I sighed, feeling tension leak out of me as Parker worked my muscles. I sagged back against him. “My grandparents are coming to town tomorrow. They want to see the house.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. They said noon, but knowing them, they’ll show at ten a.m., and I can’t handle them seeing all that.” I waved a hand vaguely toward the door to encompass the house at large.

Parker chuckled. “I’m sure they know the frat has parties.”

“Yeah, but still. These are my grandparents. I can’t have Grandma stepping on a used condom, for fuck’s sake, or Grandpa slipping on a beer spill.”

“Fair enough.” Parker gave me a nudge, turning me to face him. “But driving yourself crazy isn’t the answer. Clean up in the morning.”

I groaned. “I know. I thought maybe I could save some time, but…”

Parker’s lips quirked. “You’re only ruining the night for yourself and everyone who crosses your path?”

“Watch it,” I growled.

Parker’s gaze dropped to my lips. “Oh, I am.”

We both stepped into the kiss at the same time. We were more often in sync than not these days. I parted my lips, sighing, letting Parker take the lead for a change. I loved to push him around and exert my strength, knowing he could take anything I dished out, but tonight I wanted to sink into him and luxuriate in his full lips and slick tongue.

Parker didn’t disappoint, kissing me deeply, taking the time to flirt with my mouth before reeling me over to the bed. He shoved me down and pulled his shirt off, then climbed over me.

“Let me help you relax,” he murmured as he pushed up my shirt to nuzzle my lower stomach.

I lifted my hips, the move involuntary as my cock got the message that it might get some loving. Parker grinned as he popped open my button. “Looks like you’re on board.”

“Hell yeah,” I said. “Can’t ever turn you down. You’re my Kryptonite.”

Parker lifted his gaze to mine. Our eyes locked as he drew down my zipper. “You addicted to me, Prentiss?”

“You know I am, Reed. Like nothing else.”

He surged up to kiss me hard, and I felt the truth settle in me more comfortably this time.

I loved him. The need to see him, touch him, taste him. Text him about annoying customers, listen to him vent about Johnston’s noisy ass on Sunday mornings. It all made sense.

I was in love with Parker Reed.

And I had been for a long time now.

* * *

PARKER

Simon was never soft—especially his body—but his eyes were filled with something almost vulnerable as he gazed up at me. I pressed my forehead to his, my body draped over him, and drank in the moment. I knew we were growing closer. Knew I was more than a hookup to Simon. But how much was never really clear to me. We had to hide our relationship, so how could we begin to define it? There were so many parts of his life I longed to share.

Meeting his grandparents, for example. I’d love to see the couple who did so much for their grandkids that they were like surrogate parents to Simon and his sister. Wanted to meet his niece. Get to know his frat brothers, who’d been there to support him when Coach had cut him off from the team.

But first, I had to be honest with him. About what I wanted. About the life I hoped to live—hopefully with him by my side.

“I feel so close to you right now,” I murmured.

He brought his hands up to cradle my face. “I feel the same.”

“Yeah? There’s just so much sneaking around that sometimes it’s hard to know where we stand.”

“I wish we didn’t have to do that.”

My heartbeat quickened. A smile spread. “Really? Because I want to have everything, you know? I want us to come out as boyfriends, and screw everything else.”

His hands tightened on me. “What? We can’t.”

Had I misread him? He’d looked so full of love moments ago. We’d been so in sync.

“But why not? If we both want that, then—”

The click of the door opening, followed by a wash of light and noise, caught me off guard.

“Oops!” A girlish giggle drew my gaze to the door, where a hazy-eyed blonde was swaying in the doorway. “This isn’t the bathroom. Wow. Two guys. Hot!”

Simon shoved at me, cursing, and I fell to his side, bouncing onto my back.

Just in time to see Darnell’s wide-eyed gaze above the tipsy blonde’s head. Oh, shit. I could swear I’d flipped the lock, but it must not have engaged.

“What the— You two are— Are you two, uh, together?” he asked while steering the tipsy coed toward the bathroom without taking his eyes off us. “Like, you know—”

“Yes,” I answered, almost relieved to be honest.

“No!” Simon blurted at the same time, his voice nearly drowning out mine. “No, we were just drunk and goofing off. No big deal.”

“And Reed just lost his shirt by accident?” Darnell asked skeptically.

“He was overheated, and—”

“Just stop,” I said. “He knows, okay?”

“He doesn’t know anything,” Simon said harshly. “If you know what’s good for you, he’ll continue to know nothing.” He turned hard eyes on Darnell. “Right, D? You didn’t see anything. You don’t know anything.”

Darnell lifted his hands up. “No need to get all aggro, bro.”

My heart clenched at Simon’s adamance. Was it really so terrible that someone knew? Maybe Simon wasn’t ready for people to know his sexuality, even if I was eager to tell someone, anyone, that I’d met the best guy ever.

“He won’t tell anyone, Simon, if you’re not ready to be out,” I said, flicking a glance at Darnell. “Right?”

“I don’t gossip, and I don’t even want to be here right now, so…” He started to back out of the room.

“Wait!” Simon scrambled out of the bed. “I don’t care if you tell people about me, but leave Parker out of it, okay? He’s got the team to think about.”

Darnell nodded. “Yeah, like I said…Your private business is yours. That goes for Reed too.”

He was gone a second later, the door closing on a much less sexually charged atmosphere. But still tense.

“Fuck!” Simon raked a hand through his hair. “This was not supposed to happen!”

“It was a matter of time,” I said. “You can only sneak around so long before someone busts you.”

He shot me a dirty look. “You’re the one who brought me up here. I wasn’t thinking straight. I was stressed and worried, and you…you…”

“Go ahead and finish that sentence,” I said. “I dare you.”

Simon picked up my shirt and tossed it to me. “Get dressed. You should go. I’ve got to check on the partiers. I’ve been neglecting my duties.” He chewed his lip. “I lost the plot somewhere. I should have remembered…”

“Remembered what? You’re not even making sense.”

“Remembered that this, you and me”—he waved a finger between us— “is a fantasy. You can’t afford to be outed. You need to think about the team and your future.”

“Fuck the team, Simon!” I exclaimed. “I don’t love the fucking team. I love you.”

My words seemed to suck the oxygen out of the room. Silence made my ears ring. His silence in the face of my love was hard to take. I knew he might not feel as strongly as I did, but I didn’t realize how much it would hurt.

I raised a hand to my chest, pressing it over the ache in my heart. It was hard to breathe.

“I should go,” I croaked.

“You love football. I can’t take that away.”

Anger ignited, flashing through my body. “Fuck you! You don’t know what I love. I’ve been thinking about giving up football for a while. It’s you I want.”

He shook his head. “You’re just saying that because you’re not thinking through the consequences. Football is your dream.

“Not anymore.”

“It is,” he insisted. “You can’t just walk away. You’ve got so much talent. Anyone would give their left nut to be in your position right now. You can’t give that up for me.”

“You fucker.” I smiled despite the pain. “You really don’t get it. I’m not giving it up for you. I’m doing it for me. So I can have a real relationship, and a real love, without fear or worry. I don’t want to shut down half of myself to play a game. I don’t want to have secret boyfriends and worry about getting outed in some tabloid. I want freedom to live my life. And no one—not even you—can tell me how to do that!”

He stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. “I’m not, I just—” He swallowed hard. “I want you to have your dream. I don’t want to be an exception. I don’t want you to make sacrifices. I can’t ask for that.”

“You’re not.” I clasped his face, looking into his eyes. “You’re not asking. And I understand if you can’t come on this ride with me. But I’m done hiding, and I’m done putting football first when it’s not what I want most anymore. It’s not what I want, Simon. Can you understand that?”

“No,” he rasped. “No, I don’t get it. You’ve got everything—and you’re throwing it away?”

“Not everything.” I willed him to give me something, anything. To give me a shred of hope. But he remained speechless, and my throat was growing too tight to continue this talk. “Maybe when you figure that out, you can find me. I’ve got an early morning with my parents, and you’ve got the party stuff to deal with, so yeah. I’m going to go.”

I turned for the door, and he didn’t stop me.

As I stepped into the hall, I heard him say once more, “I just don’t get it.”

With a heavy heart, I walked away, knowing that Simon might not ever understand putting my wants ahead of the sport we both loved, that he might not ever respect my choice to be a pansexual person first and a wide receiver second.

But what hurt most of all was the realization that he wouldn’t choose me if our situations were reversed.

I loved Simon, but I wasn’t so sure he loved me back.

24

SIMON

The next morning, I hounded a few of the younger frat guys into helping me with cleanup. It was ten by the time I could get them out of bed, and I’d been cleaning for three hours by then. Not like I could sleep well after the way things had ended with Parker.

Ended. That word had such finality. Things hadn’t ended. They’d just been paused. Right? We’d get past this—even though I was still a little confused about what this really was. Parker couldn’t really want to walk away from football. He said it wasn’t about me, but what if it was? What if he gave it up, and then I wasn’t worth that sacrifice? What if he regretted it?

I only wanted him to be happy. Wanted him to have every dream come true. I’d lost my dream, but he could still have his. And hell, I wouldn’t even be jealous. Much. I’d be so damn happy for him. Parker deserved all the best things in life. He really was such a great guy. I couldn’t fathom why I’d hated him so much. It felt like another life. Another Simon, maybe.

My arms burned as I aggressively mopped the kitchen floor with the little Shark wet/dry vacuum the frat owned. It was good for normal cleanup, but sticky beer spills and food ground into the wood floors were a bitch to get up. I might have to break out a sponge and go old school on its ass.

I glanced up to see one of our freshman brothers, Daniel, coming down the stairs. He peeled off rubber gloves.

“Bathroom’s done. Can I go now?”

“Both of them?”

He grimaced, pausing halfway down the staircase. “Just the guest one. Do I have to do the private one too?”

His eyes beseeched me for mercy. He did look a little green around the edges, his eyes bloodshot, and his skin pale. If I made him keep cleaning bathrooms, what were the odds he’d end up puking in one?

“Fine, go.”

“Bless you,” he said, making the sign of the cross. “In the name of the holy spirit—”

“Get out of here before I make you check the bushes for condoms.”

I’d already made a thorough search, but Daniel didn’t need to know that. Since giving up on sleep early this morning, I’d filled four trash bags with party detritus: plastic cups, soda cans, water bottles, plates of half-eaten snacks, along with all the food that had sat out all night.

Daniel tossed the rubber gloves in the trash and made tracks before I could change my mind. Rob was wiping down all the counters with a cleaning solution, and Linc had tackled the sofa with an upholstery cleaner.

As soon as I finished the floors, we’d move the furniture back to the center of the room, and I’d call it good. It wasn’t really good, I thought, as I eyed the walls that were speckled with dry food, the dusty ceiling fan in the kitchen, and the smudged appliances. The windows probably hadn’t been cleaned properly in years. But it would have to do.

We were all exhausted, and I was hoping to catch a catnap before Grandma and Grandpa arrived.

I should have chased Parker down last night and made sure we were okay. I’d felt torn between my urge to talk to him and my responsibilities to the party—not to mention my stress about the mess I’d have to tackle.

I’d texted him last night, letting him know that I wanted to talk soon. But he hadn’t replied yet. Every time I pulled out my phone, my last message to him mocked me. It sat there, unanswered, practically a neon sign screaming, He doesn’t want to talk to you! You screwed up.

Just to torture myself more, I’d opened the Thrust app for the first time in weeks. Once Parker and I had become regular hookups, we’d exchanged numbers to bypass the dating app system.

The first unread message from a random dude reminded me why I’d happily ditched the app as soon as Parker and I met. It came from someone who actually thought SwalloworUnfollow was a good idea for a user name.

Hey, your pics are hot! Wanna satisfy your curiosity with a pic of my big dick?

I grimaced and clicked block on the match. Requests had continued to flood in from horny guys with no tact. Maybe my standards were too high, but dick pic offers did nothing for me. I wanted someone who would put in a little time and effort. Maybe ask a question or two about me. Hell, even a flirty come-on would be an improvement.

Maybe Parker had spoiled me. Because no one else even attempted the funny, witty lines that had amused and intrigued me when HotPan22 first talked to me.

Hey BiCurious! How about we find out if you like sucking dick? I volunteer as tribute.

I snorted. Well, there was a smidge of humor in that message. His name was more humorous than offensive too: Bottomosaurus. Maybe if Parker dumped me, I could take him up on it. That thought was incredibly depressing.

I didn’t want another guy. Even if things didn’t work out with Parker, I couldn’t imagine casually hooking up with strangers. Maybe I just wasn’t wired that way. Parker had wooed me with flirtation and gentle nudges, and by the time we did hook up, I felt like I knew him.

Not the football player I’d antagonized and blamed when things went to shit with the coaching staff. But the patient guy who’d coaxed me out of my straight-guy shell to explore a new side of myself. Someone who’d shown interest in my day, as well as my sexual preferences, and who’d made me smile on more than one occasion when I’d been in a crappy mood.

No. No one else would do.

In the end, I deleted the app.

I wouldn’t be replacing Parker, ever. If he really wanted to give up football, I wasn’t going to stand in his way. I still didn’t fully understand it, but I’d try. I’d try anything if it meant I could stay with him.

Even come out with him, face down the football team, and build a new dream together.

* * *

PARKER

“I don’t understand.”

I was beginning to hate that phrase. First Simon, now Mom.

Not that she even knew the worst of it yet. I’d only told Mom and Dad about the change to my education degree. I figured it was best to give her the news in stages. Maybe blurting it all out would be more akin to ripping off the Band-Aid, but I wanted Mom and Dad to have time to process.

Or maybe I was just too cowardly to lay it all out. I needed to hedge my bets. Give myself time to backtrack if it went to hell.

Like you should have with Simon.

I couldn’t think about him now. I’d woken to a text message that he wanted to “talk.” It had twisted my stomach into even more knots. I didn’t have the emotional fortitude to deal with my parents, the coaching staff, and face Simon. I’d hidden my phone and tried to pretend he wasn’t about to dump me.

Mom, Dad, and I sat around a pub table at The Fieldhouse for a late lunch/early dinner before my evening game against the alums. I’d spent most the day with them, but I hadn’t gotten up the nerve to approach the subject until now. And once I was done here, I still had Coach Jackson to face.

I wasn’t sure who intimidated me more: him or my mother.

Mom was already wearing her Haymakers jersey with my number, 22, on the front and my last name, Reed, on the back. Dad was dressed more casually, sporting a regular T-shirt and jeans, but with a Haymakers championship cap circa 1998.

To say my parents were fans was an understatement.

I fidgeted with a coaster. I was probably more nervous than the day I’d come out to them as pansexual. It didn’t help that we were surrounded by Haymaker memorabilia, autographed photos of Hayworth athletes who’d gone pro—mostly football and soccer, but also a few female basketball players—and sporting equipment displayed as décor.

“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about my future this year,” I said. “I want to work with younger kids.”

“What about our plan, honey? We talked about all this.”

“You don’t want to coach high school football?” Dad asked, cutting to the heart of it. I was grateful for his direct approach.

I shook my head. “I know I went into education as a fallback plan, but I really like it. When I picture teaching, it’s not to a classroom full of teens with more interest in their social lives than the subject. It’s working with younger kids, kids who are still excited to learn. Kids who are still innocent and sweet and little sponges soaking up information.”

“You have always been good with children,” Mom said reluctantly. “I can see why teaching younger grades might appeal to you. If you’re sure you really want to give up the chance to coach…”

She trailed off as if she hoped I might jump and say that I’d changed my mind. When I didn’t, an awkward silence settled over the table until Dad broke it.

“It’s your life,” he said. “You should be the one to decide your future.”

They were trying. That was something.

“Of course, it hardly matters if you get drafted,” Mom said with a little laugh. “This is all just Plan B.”

I winced, unable to hide my expression.

“What?” she asked, her hand tightening on the sweating pint glass before her. The pale ale had hardly been touched. Maybe I should have waited until she’d downed more of the beer. Taken the edge off.

Maybe this news should wait until later. After I’d talked to the coaches. Or graduated.

“You can tell us anything,” Dad said.

I let out a breath, nodding. “I know.”

My parents were amazingly supportive. I knew this would be okay in the long run. It didn’t make it easy to disappoint them though. When I’d come out, it had been the same. Mom and Dad had said all the right things, even when they hadn’t fully understood what pansexual even meant. Their love had been evident, their desire to understand.

Of course, I hadn’t wanted to come out to anyone but family. I’d been in high school, not at all ready to proclaim my sexuality to the world. Mom had been relieved, telling me that it would certainly make my life easier if I wasn’t out publicly.

But I suspected Mom was a lot more attached to the idea of me playing football than me being straight.

“I, uh, have some other changes I want to make,” I said.

“Okay,” Dad said encouragingly. “We’re listening.”

I wet my lips, then lifted my water to take a few gulps. My mouth was dry as the desert despite swallowing half the contents of my glass.

“Football,” I croaked.

“What about it?” Mom asked, sounding wary.

I took a breath to settle my nerves, and a strange sense of calm descended on me. I’d made my decision. My parents would understand—if not now, then eventually. And I’d already told the most important person of all. If I’d lost Simon because of this choice, my parents’ reaction hardly mattered.

I would take it back if it meant having Simon—but it never would. I couldn’t have football and Simon. I couldn’t have football and freedom. I was in a catch-22.

My parents would understand or they wouldn’t. But I was done hedging my bets.

“I’m going to quit football,” I said.

Mom looked shocked. “What?”

“When you graduate college?” Dad asked. “Or before then?”

“Today, I think.”

Mom shook her head, eyes wide as if I’d given her terrible news. “But your senior season… You could get drafted or signed—”

“Those are long odds, even with a great season.”

“Not that long,” she argued. “Cortez is graduating, and you’re positioned to be the top wide receiver in the conference. Parker, this is your chance to have everything you want!”

“It’s not what I want.”

“But why?” She looked ready to cry. I heaved a sigh, and stood up from the table to hug her. She clutched at me. “Why, Parker?”

I kissed the top of her head. “I found something I love more. That’s all, Mom. It’s not a bad thing, is it, if it makes me happy?”

“Are you sure?”

I pulled back to look into her glistening eyes. She hastily dabbed at the tears forming. “I know this is a big decision. I’ve been thinking about it a long time.”

Mom excused herself to the bathroom as I retook my seat. Dad squeezed my shoulder. “She’ll be okay.”

“Yeah?”

“She just needs time to sit with it. Your mom gave up some big dreams once upon a time. When you started football, she lived through yours.”

I nodded. I knew Mom had been a dancer when she was young, and that she’d given it up for her first husband. She’d always regretted it, and ultimately, it had led to their divorce. Then she’d met Dad, had kids, and tied her dreams to ours.

Only for me to take them away again.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know how much she wants this.”

“It’s your life,” Dad repeated. “You can’t live it for your mother. She knows that too. She loves you, and whatever your dream is, she’ll love it too—because it’s yours.”

I nodded, feeling more emotional than I thought I would. I’d been sitting with this worry for a long time. Not that they’d be angry or disown me or something dramatic. Just that I’d hurt them, make them feel all the pride and support they’d given me over the years was wasted.

“We’re proud of you, Parker,” Dad said as Mom returned to the table. “If you need to walk away from the demands of football, that’s okay.”

“Just promise me one thing,” Mom said.

“What is it?”

“Promise me you’re not doing this for a girlfriend, or…”

“I have a boyfriend,” I said. Then swallowed as an ache shot through me. “I hope anyway. I’m not doing it for him. He’s about as happy as you are about it.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I might like this guy. Who is he?”

“You remember Simon Prentiss?”

“Simon Prentiss?” she hissed. “Oh no. No, no, no. You’re not telling me that the player who hit you is now your boyfriend.”

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. “I don’t know, Mom. Depends on whether he forgives me for quitting football when it meant everything to him and he was forced to give it up.”

“Because he hit you,” she muttered.

“I recovered. He’s the one who lost everything.”

“Not everything,” she argued. “If he has you, then he’s got something special. I hope he’s smart enough to see that.”

Bringing out Mom’s protective nature had worked wonders in getting her to accept my news. I wasn’t under any illusions though. She’d spent too many years as a proud booster to accept this easily.

“What about the game tonight?” Dad asked. “Are you going to play?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, please play, Parker,” Mom implored. “One last game, and then you’ll have the summer to think it over. You don’t have to quit right now.”

And there it was. The resistance I’d expected.

“I’m not going to change my mind,” I said.

“But what harm will finishing out your senior season do? It’s not preventing you from pursuing elementary education after graduation.”

“Because I can’t openly date a guy and be on the team,” I said. “How do you think that would go?”

Her tone sharpened. “I thought this wasn’t for Simon.”

“It’s not. It’s for me, Mom. I don’t want to hide who I am or who I want to date. I want freedom. Football is not my future. I hope Simon will be, but even if he’s not, I have to do this for me.”

“But—”

“Sharon,” Dad cut in. “The boy has made up his mind.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I hate to disappoint you.”

“Oh, you could never do that, hon.” She gave a tremulous smile. “Just make sure you’re really ready to walk away. I don’t want you to live with what-ifs like I do. I want you to be so happy, Parker, in whatever you do.”

I agreed. It was an easy promise to make. But while Mom might be worried I’d have what-ifs about football, I knew my own mind. It was losing Simon that would keep me up at night, wondering about the future we might have had.

I didn’t want to live with those regrets.

As soon as I got through this day, I was going to talk to him. I would help him understand. And if he felt even a fraction of the love I felt for him, he’d accept my decision. And if he didn’t, well then, that would hurt.

But it was a reality I might have to live with.

25

SIMON

My family had arrived just as Linc and Aidan helped me slide the sofa back into place. I hastily shoved cleaning supplies at them. “Put them away and take off. Hurry!”

I smoothed down my hair and clothes, thankful I’d made time for a shower, before opening the door.

“Honey!” Grandma hugged me tight, smelling of vanilla, flour, and bleach. I wasn’t sure how she possibly smelled that way when surely she hadn’t done any baking or cleaning—but I was extra glad I’d cleaned so thoroughly.

When I pulled back, Grandpa enveloped me in a hug, smelling more of cigar smoke and coffee, but that was no less familiar and made my heart swell. Chelsea stepped forward, smiling, and held out a large plastic container. “Grandma and I made a batch of muffins this morning. You can share with the frat.”

That explained why Grandma smelled of baking. I thought perhaps the smells had seeped permanently into her skin after so many batches of cookies and rhubarb and apple pies. Chelsea had gained her own love of the kitchen from hours spent at Grandma’s side.

I lifted the lid, peering inside. “Blueberry?”

“Your favorite.”

“Looks great, I’ll put these in the kitchen.”

I started to turn when I noticed a guy hanging back near the door. He was dressed casually in jeans and a black T-shirt, brown hair a bit long and brushing his collar. When I looked down, I saw that my nephew Joey was holding his hand.

Chelsea followed my gaze. “Simon, this is Jackson. He’s a good friend.” She raised her eyebrows, and I got the hint that he was a very good friend. “I met Jackson at my job at the bistro. We do a lot of baking there, and Jackson is an old pro.”

“Does that mean I have even more baked goods in my future?” I asked, hefting the container.

Jackson chuckled. “Could be.”

“Then welcome to the family.”

Chelsea swatted me playfully, blushing, and I suddenly realized Grandma and Grandpa had wandered off. That was a scary thought. I hurried toward the kitchen, blanching when I saw my grandparents reading the chore list posted on the wall—right above a bowl of condoms. Shit! It was always there, so I didn’t even notice it anymore, and it had entirely escaped my cleaning frenzy.

Jackson’s gaze went straight to the bowl, and he smirked. Before I could get irritated by his amusement, he cleared his throat. “It’s nearly lunch. Anyone else hungry?”

“Yes!” I seized on his lifeline. “Good idea.”

“But the muffins…” Chelsea trailed off when Jackson gave a small shake of his head.

“Oh, the muffins are great. But I’d rather not spoil my lunch. I’ll eat one later. The guys will be really excited.”

Grandma looked around. “Where are all the boys? I thought I might meet some of your friends.”

“Everyone is busy,” I lied. Linc and Aidan had left through the backdoor. Most everyone else was still sleeping off the party. “Parents weekend, you know? Let’s go downtown. You love that Italian place if I remember right.”

“I can’t get enough of those breadsticks,” Grandpa said, rubbing his hands together.

With only a little more cajoling—and a supersonic tour of the main floor—I was able to lure them out for lunch. And I owed Jackson for helping me distract them.

His laidback nature reminded me of Parker, sending a pang through me. I bet Parker would be great with Joey. Grandma and Grandpa too. He was the kind of guy that most everyone liked. I wasn’t sure why it had taken me so long, but now I liked him more than anyone I’d ever met.

I just hoped I hadn’t pushed him away for good. I wanted him to meet my family. Wanted them to see how much he meant to me.

After we’d all stuffed ourselves with carbs, we lingered out front while Grandpa went to fetch the car. I’d offered to drive it, but Grandpa let no one touch his car. Never had. It was the only thing he’d ever been stingy about. “A man has to have something to call just his own,” he’d said to me when I was a teenager. “One day you’ll understand.”

I thought I might get it now. But it wasn’t a car I wanted to call my own.

“I want to see where you work,” Grandma said, sounding eager. “What was the name? Something to do with trains or rails?”

“Tracks.” I laughed. “Like music tracks, not railroad tracks.”

Grandma swatted my arm. “Don’t laugh at me, Mister. I changed your diapers.”

“And I am eternally grateful.”

“As you should be,” Chelsea said. “And as you should be,” she added pointedly to her son, Joey, tousling his hair. “I had to clean your dirty butt so many times.”

“Mooooom!”

Chelsea’s boyfriend, Jackson, laughed and said to Joey, “She’s embarrassing, huh?”

“Yeah!”

“All good moms are.” He swung Joey up and flipped him over his arm, making him squeal, before setting him down again.

I hadn’t been too sure what to think when he’d shown up at the frat house with my family, but he seemed like an easygoing guy who was great with Joey. Grandpa pulled up in his Lincoln Town Car, ready to drive us to our next destination after lunch.

“I don’t think we should take Joey to a bar,” I said after everyone had piled into the car.

“Oh, probably not,” Grandma said with a frown. “Can we at least drive by?”

“Sure.” I gave them directions and sat back, watching the buildings pass by, wondering where Parker was right then. His parents were coming up this weekend. Was he in a car somewhere, just like me, visiting spots around town that were important to him? Would he tell them what he’d told me? That he wanted to give up football?

What if they tried to convince him he was making a mistake? What if they reacted badly?

Like I did.

Shit, I’d really screwed up, hadn’t I?

“Is that it?” Grandpa asked, slowing the car to a crawl as we approached the unassuming front of Tracks with its beer signs in the window, dim and lifeless during the day, rather than the neon bright invitations they were at night.

“Yep. You’ve now seen all of my exciting life.”

“I doubt that,” Grandma said.

“Yeah, judging by the way you’ve been checking your phone, there’s a big piece of your life we’re not seeing,” Chelsea said with a smirk.

The brat. Now that she had a boyfriend, she thought she should meddle in my love life. I shot a glare her way, but she was unfazed. Big sisters were the worst.

“Do you have a girlfriend, honey?” Grandma asked. “I’d love to meet her!”

I shook my head. Chelsea had no idea what she’d started. “How about we do some shopping?” I pointed to a cute boutique a few doors down, hoping it would distract them.

“Oh, look at that purse in the window,” Grandma said. “It does look nice. Pull over, Roy.”

Grandpa put on his blinker and puttered over to the curb, making a production of parking that made me and Chels smile at one another. Jackson leaned in, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle and shake her head. I watched them closely—until Jackson gave me a knowing look and nod of approval. As if he knew I was assessing whether he deserved my sister, and he was more than fine with it.

We all climbed out and headed for the shop. Chelsea fell back to keep pace with me when I tried to lag behind the group. “You dodged that question, but we’re not done with the subject. You’re different.”

“Different?”

“Happier.”

I snorted a laugh. Happier? I’d been stressed as fuck and worried about my relationship with Parker all day. And Chelsea thought that passed for happier?

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nothing. Just… You don’t read me as well as you think you do.”

“Really?” She cocked her head. “You’re still simmering with rage over the team? Grieving for football? You haven’t brought it up once today.”

“Okay, so maybe I’ve moved on,” I said. “That doesn’t mean I’m happy.”

“I didn’t say you were happy,” she snarked. “I said you were happier, as in less cynical and jaded. You’ve smiled today. Laughed. You telling me you’re not in a better place than you were over winter break?”

“No, I am.” That was thanks to Parker, I realized. Thanks to letting go of my grudges and misplaced blame. And maybe a little thanks to me too, and my work on the After Sports project. I’d found some purpose, found that life went on even without playing a sport I loved.

And maybe that’s what Parker had been trying to tell me too. His purpose was larger than his position on a football team. He wanted more. And who was I to question that?

Bells chimed over the door as we entered the boutique, drawing the attention of the shopkeeper. She smiled. “Good afternoon.”

“Hello,” Grandma said. “You’ve got a cute place here.”

“Thank you.” The woman, whose nametag said Claire, came around the counter and began to give Grandma a tour of the store and all its merchandise. I wandered the aisles, checking out funky candles and funny magnets—including Haymakers with slightly menacing grins. Farm machinery made for a weird mascot, but Hayworth was committed to the idea.

Eventually I came to a small cooler section that contained bouquets of flowers. A sudden urge struck me to send Parker flowers. He’d be busy with the game tonight, but he’d see them when he was done. And I could write him a message, let him know I wasn’t the asshole I’d seemed.

“See something you like?”

Claire stood at my shoulder, ready to help. I hesitated. Buying a bouquet would only make my family more curious about my dating status. But did that matter? Parker was more important than having to explain myself.

“I was thinking about getting something for my…” I swallowed. “But I don’t know if he likes flowers. Maybe it’s a bad idea.”

Chelsea turned around, eyes wide. Shit.

“He?”

I shrugged. Maybe if I acted like it wasn’t a big deal, it didn’t have to be. I didn’t want to make a production of coming out, but I didn’t want to keep Parker a secret from my family either. “Parker Reed.”

Her eyes went even wider, which didn’t seem possible, while Jackson watched us. If nothing else, this would be a good homophobe test for her boyfriend.

“The wide receiver, Parker Reed? The guy who showed up at a party with your girlfriend? The one who got you kicked off the team?”

Her voice was steadily rising.

“It wasn’t his fault,” I said weakly. “I mean, I punched him.”

Claire tactfully sidestepped to another cooler and withdrew a bouquet of candy. There were Kit-Kats, Hershey bars, Snickers, and M&Ms, each standing tall and proud, arranged in layers like flowers. Interspersed in the bouquet were individually wrapped Red Vines. It was all wrapped in red cellophane, like the most romantic of offerings. “Perhaps he’d like this if you’re not so sure how he feels about flowers?”

Well, that made a statement. Parker probably shouldn’t eat all that candy—but wasn’t that the point? To tell him that he was more than an athlete and football player. That he could eat whatever he wanted. Could have anything he wanted.

Hopefully he still wanted me.

“Yeah, I’ll take it.”

Chelsea gaped. Jackson had yet to say anything regarding the boyfriend situation. Grandma and Grandpa were on the other side of the store, helping Joey pick out a toy.

“Oh my God,” Chels finally said, and I braced myself. I didn’t think she was closed-minded, but I knew it was probably a surprise given how many girls she’d watched me date. “You’re in love with a guy you brawled with.” She rolled her eyes. “Only you, Simon.”

I grinned. I couldn’t help it.

I was in love with him. And suddenly, I really didn’t care who knew it. If Parker was ready to come out and claim me, I’d happily do the same. The urge to talk to him grew.

“How do you guys feel about catching the football game?”

“Sounds great,” Jackson said eagerly. He was probably happy to get out of more shopping.

“He’ll be playing?” Chelsea asked.

“Yeah. I need to talk to him if I can.”

She lowered her voice. “You going to tell Grandma and Grandpa? Mom? Dad?”

“Everyone,” I said firmly. “Well…maybe not Dad. He’s an asshole, and I really don’t care what he thinks.”

She smiled and threw an arm around me. “I couldn’t agree more, Sy-Sy. I’m proud of you.”

“You are? I thought you were mad I was dating a guy I punched.”

She snorted. “No, now that I think about it, it’s oddly fitting. This is why you’re happier?”

“A big part of it, yeah. But I’ll be a lot happier if I can fix what I broke last night.”

“Uh-oh, what did you do?”

“The usual.”

“Grandma, Grandpa,” Chelsea called as we crossed the shop to the checkout. “We gotta go. Simon was an idiot.”

“Thanks a lot,” I muttered. But I couldn’t help but smile. Chelsea had taken the news I was dating a guy in stride, and I knew she’d help me tell Grandma and Grandpa. Not that I was too worried. Those two didn’t have a judgmental bone in their bodies.

I shot a glance toward Jackson, but he simply nodded at me again. Guy code for, We’re cool. I nodded back and turned to make my purchase. With any luck I could catch Parker before the game and apologize. If not, I’d be there waiting at the end.

Either way, I wasn’t going home until he knew how I really felt.

I was in love with Parker. I should have told him last night, or even before then. But I hoped late was better than never.

* * *

PARKER

I thrummed with tension as I paced the sidelines, watching the team get set at the line of scrimmage. The ball was snapped, and our QB caught it and fell back a few steps to search for an open receiver. He unleashed a perfect, arcing spiral that dropped into Hinkel’s outstretched arms as he raced up the sideline.

Like a perfectly orchestrated dance, Hinkel was in the exact right spot at the right time. He caught the ball mid-stride and dodged a few would-be tacklers before stepping out of bounds.

It was a good play. Hinkel was a good receiver with a ton of potential. But it was still hard to watch. Part of me wanted to charge onto the field and take over, if only to ensure the team won.

But that wasn’t my job today.

After breaking the news to my parents, I’d sought out the coaching staff. Coach Jackson hadn’t been pleased with my decision. He wanted an explanation, but he’d heard me out. Talking about my sexuality with Coach Jackson wasn’t high on my list of favorite things to do, but he’d been respectful. He understood why I might have concerns about being openly pansexual in the NFL, but he assured me that he’d make sure the Haymakers accepted me. That if I wanted to play my final season, I’d have his full support.

Then he’d said something I never would have expected.

“Road blocks don’t come down until someone smashes through them,” he said. “Some NFL players have come out after retirement. It’s not the same as starting a career that way, I understand. But it has to start with someone if anything is ever going to change.”

He was right, but in my heart I knew, it wasn’t only my sexuality that had led me to this decision. Football had been a big part of my life, too big maybe. It tended to take over and consume everything. Ambition was healthy. A competitive spirit was healthy. Within limits. A lot of these guys, their entire self-worth was tied into how they played in each game. Was that healthy? I didn’t know. Maybe some people were able to separate their athletic goals from their personal value. But it wasn’t easy.

“You might be right, Coach. But it’s not what I want for my life.” I shrugged. “Maybe it seems strange that I’d walk away from a possible future of fame and money, but…those are not the things that matter most to me. I don’t need to be larger than life. I just want to live a good one.”

Coach had smiled. “That’s a healthier, more mature attitude than a lot of pro ballplayers have, son. If you know your mind, I won’t pressure you to pursue anything different. I’d prefer if you finished your last season, though. Losing you will hurt the team, and we’ve got other players who could use the scouting attention you’d bring.”

I hesitated. “But I’d be taking playing time that Hinkel could use to prove himself. You’d want me to stay, knowing that I didn’t care to stay in football after graduation?”

He chuckled. “Hell, son, I’m a coach. All I care is that you win me games while you’re here.” He was joking—mostly—but there was a kernel of truth there. Coach didn’t want the team to go down the drain. If keeping me meant having an ace up his sleeve, he’d rather do that. “And Hinkel is young. He has a lot to learn. He’s the only one with the speed and build to take over the routes you and Prentiss have covered these past couple of years, but he’s not quite ready.”

I chewed my lip, feeling uncertain. “I don’t know, Coach. I’d need to think about it. I came in here today ready to move on.”

He nodded. “Take your time to think about it, but suit up tonight. We’ve still got a game to win.”

I knew how much my parents wanted to watch me play one last game, so I nodded. Halfway to the door, he said, “I’m gonna keep you on the bench unless we need you. Give you a view of exactly what you’ll be missing.”

Now, as I paced the sidelines, Coach ambled up to me. “Feels different, doesn’t it? Knowing you can’t go in and save the day?”

I glanced sidelong at him. “You wouldn’t let us lose.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t. But I want you to see and feel exactly what you’re giving up.”

I knew that was his goal. But it wasn’t going to work. Yeah, I was antsy when I watched. It was hard not having any control over how the play turned out. My hands tingled with the urge to snatch the football from the air. But that was natural, considering how many years I’d been playing. I didn’t feel envy, though. Didn’t feel like I was missing out.

I was at peace, watching Hinkel speed down the field.

“I know already, Coach. Catching a touchdown pass is an amazing feeling.”

What Coach didn’t know was that one of Simon’s smiles could quicken my heart rate. His touch could shoot adrenaline through my limbs.

Simply holding his hand could feel as good as any touchdown.

Better even. Because it was a win just for me.

* * *

SIMON

I waited nervously outside the stadium after the game. There were a few family members and girlfriends also hanging around near the team and staff exit, and I felt incredibly conspicuous with a candy bouquet in my arms. Thankfully, my own family had taken off already, my grandparents worn out after a full day. I couldn’t have handled doing this with them as an audience too.

Bad enough that one middle-aged blonde woman kept shooting me glances. When my gaze dropped to her jersey and I caught sight of the 22 on the front, my heart leapfrogged.

Parker’s mom. Had to be.

What if this was a monumental mistake? He’d played less time in the game than usual, but maybe Coach had wanted to give Hinkel more experience. It didn’t mean Parker had told anyone he wanted to quit the team. He could have changed his mind. His parents might not even know about his sexuality, and I was standing here like an idiot about to out him.

I turned to go but made it only a few steps before the woman called out. “Prentiss, wait.”

She approached me as I reluctantly turned back, a nervous smile on her face. “I’m Parker’s mom.”

“Yeah, I know.” I nodded to the jersey. “You’re wearing his number.”

Her eyes went to the bouquet. “Is that for him?”

I felt my face flash hot. “I should go. I don’t want to get in the way of family time.”

She grasped my forearm, keeping me from running away. “It’s really sweet. I’m sure he’ll want to see you.” She pursed her lips. “He says he wants to leave the team.”

“I know.”

“Did you ask him to do that?”

My mouth dropped open. “I would never do that. I know what it means to give that up. I’d never ask someone to do that for me.”

She nodded once. “I believe you.” Then she smiled conspiratorially. “I always hated you a little.”

Okay…this was going well.

She laughed at my expression. “You were too good. Always the top receiver. I wanted Parker in that spot. I was angry you hit him, understand?”

Shame swirled up. “I’m sorr—”

“But I was relieved too, I’m ashamed to say. You were gone, and Parker could shine. And now…” She trailed off, looking just as lost as I’d once felt. “It’s gone—or will be soon enough. It’s not what he really wants. But you’re different, aren’t you? You still want it?”

That was difficult to put into words. She was so sincere that I found myself trying. “A part of me will always want it,” I said. “Another part of me, the part that likes Parker, is ready to move on. There’s more to life than football. Parker showed me that.”

Just then the doors opened and the team spilled out. Mrs. Reed and I turned toward the doors expectantly. Parker saw his Mom first, nodding, looking more tense than usual for him. Then his gaze skated to me and stopped.

Our eyes locked, and I felt as if I couldn’t breathe.

Mrs. Reed vanished along with the rest of the crowd. I could only see Parker. My heart pounded and my palms sweated as he approached me.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out before he could say anything. “I love you too.”

Parker looked stunned, eyes flicking to his mother. Shit, she was still there, wasn’t she?

“Uh, Mom, can you give us a minute?”

She murmured assent, backing away, and Parker’s focus returned to me. Then his gaze dropped again to the bouquet in my arms, and his lips twitched. “Is that for me?”

“Yeah. Is it stupid? I was going to have it delivered with a card that said, like, ‘Eat anything you want, do anything you want, be anything you want. I support you.’ Or something cheesy like that.”

“It’s great,” he said softly, taking it as I extended it to him.

A sudden awareness of the many witnesses in the parking lot hit me.

“Is it okay that I’m doing this? The team, and your mom…”

“Mom knows everything,” Parker said. “I talked to Coach, but the guys are probably going to be surprised. I don’t care about any of that. Just…tell me again, how you feel.”

“I was an asshole last night. I was just caught off guard, and I didn’t understand. But I support you, Parker. I want you to have anything you want out of life—even if it’s not football.”

He laughed, eyes shining. “Even if that’s hard to wrap your head around, huh?”

“I’ll get there. I promise.”

“But that’s not what I meant. I want you to tell me again how you feel. About me.”

“Oh. Uh…”

“Three words. First word starts with I—”

“I love you, smartass. I love you, okay? I don’t care who knows it. I want to be with you. Be a real boyfriend. If football isn’t going to be your future, then I want to be. I really fucking do, and I haven’t worked out all the details of how to make that happen yet, what with me graduating and you with another year, but—”

“Simon,” he cut in sharply.

I realized I was babbling. I never babbled. But this was a big moment, my heart was racing, and I knew that if I didn’t put my feelings into the right words, I could lose everything.

Not football. Not a game. But Parker. A real, living person. The person I wanted in my life more than any other.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” he said, grinning.

Then he kissed me.

In front of his mom, a random assortment of fans, and half the football team.

When he broke the kiss, I said softly, “The world is still turning.”

“Only because you’re here for me.”

“It was the only way to keep it turning,” I agreed solemnly. “Otherwise, destruction for all of mankind.”

26

PARKER

Simon walked me back to my dorm room. This time, it didn’t matter who saw us enter or leave—and I planned to keep him close all night.

He held my hand as we walked. “Everything okay with your mom?”

“Yeah, she wanted to say good-bye. My parents are leaving early in the morning, and she didn’t react all that great when I told her I wanted to leave the team.”

“Is it official then? You talk to Coach?”

“We talked. He wants me to play next season. Promised he’d handle any fallout related to me dating a guy.”

“Do you want to do that?”

“I don’t know. I feel guilty for wanting to leave. What if it hurts the team’s prospects? But I want to focus on my future, and I don’t want to get in the way of younger players who want opportunities. But if I stay, the team would have to accept my sexual orientation. Maybe that’d make it easier for someone else to come out, you know? I know there have been queer players at other colleges, but Hayworth hasn’t had that yet.”

Simon nodded. “There’s no wrong answer. Only what’s right for you. Whatever you decide, it’ll be okay, Parker.”

I squeezed his hand in thanks. “I noticed Double D talked to you while I was with my mom?”

“Yeah. He just said that we were still cool, and that when he told me to stop hitting you, he hadn’t meant to start hitting on you.”

I laughed. “That sounds like D.”

“Yeah, he’s a good guy,” Simon said. “Some of the other players, I don’t know. They were keeping their distance, but I could feel them watching, feel the what-the-fuck in their stares, you know?”

“I know. You didn’t have to do all this. Come to the game, make the public gesture. Last night, I was just thinking about what I wanted. I should have considered whether you were ready to be out. I’m sorry.”

Simon pulled me to a stop in front of the dorm building. “Parker, I’m ready. I was only worried for you. I didn’t want you to give up football for me.” I started to shake my head, and he kissed me before I could say anything. “I know you weren’t saying that. I know now. But the idea you’d want to quit football for your own peace of mind didn’t compute. I guess I leaped to the conclusion you were leaving it for me because it was something I could understand.”

I was about to tease him about his giant ego when he said the last thing I expected.

“Being with you is just about the only thing that would have ever tempted me to leave if I was still with the team. So that made sense to me, you know?”

“Oh hell, Simon.”

“What?” He sounded wary. “Did I say the wrong thing again?”

“No.” I smiled slowly. “The opposite, really. You said the perfect thing, and now I’m dying to jump you.”

His eyes fixed on mine, as intense as the first night we hooked up. All that anger had fueled his passion then. Now, it was something else, something deeper. But the passion, the chemistry still sparked between us.

“Gonna invite me in, then?” His voice was deceptively light. But his gaze was so intense that my skin prickled and my nipples and cock hardened. I felt exposed under that stare despite remaining fully dressed. As if he were already stripping and claiming me—all without moving an inch.

“Simon, you don’t need an invite. My bed is yours.”

“Yeah, and what about your heart? Is that mine too?”

“Everything.”

* * *

SIMON

Somehow we made it to Parker’s room before crashing together in a messy, desperate kiss. I’d had a lot of kisses with Parker by now, but this one consumed me. Our tongues slid together, wet and hot, but I wanted us to be even closer, needed a deeper connection.

Parker broke away with a gasp and pulled his shirt over his head. He was freshly showered, his hair still a little damp. He sported a fresh bruise spreading over his ribs on his right flank. Another on his left hip.

It was nothing I hadn’t experienced myself, but it made me aware of the aches and pains he likely felt. When I reached for him, I was more gentle. I stroked my hands down his bare arms, watching goosebumps chase my fingers. When I dropped a kiss on his shoulder, he shivered. I loved that I could affect him like this. Loved that he wanted me like that.

I reached the waistband of his track pants and pushed them down while I kissed the hollow of his throat. “Get on the bed.”

He toed off his shoes and kicked away his pants and briefs, then turned toward the bed. In a single dorm room, he had a full-size bed. It would still be a tight fit for two guys of our size. I watched his muscular ass as he crossed the room and climbed onto the bed on his hands and knees.

An idea started to take shape in my mind. It made my heart pound, but it felt right.

“Turn over, babe,” I said. “Want to look into your eyes tonight.”

He flipped over, smiling at me. “You just going to look? Or you going to get your ass in bed with me?”

He stroked his cock, more to tease me than for his own pleasure, judging by his light touch. It was flushed pink, almost purple at the head, similar in length to mine. And yet against his lean build, it suddenly looked exceptionally large.

Wetting my lips, I forced my eyes from him long enough to focus on stripping my clothes and grabbing supplies from his nightstand. When I joined him on the bed, he reached for me.

“Finally,” he murmured, tugging me down against him, skin to skin. He felt hot beneath me, his lips soft but the rest of him so very hard. My cock dragged over his thigh before bumping into his length, and a flash of pleasure lit me up.

Our eyes met and held.

“I need you,” he said, sounding soft and vulnerable. Parker was always better at opening his heart than I was. I spoke better with my body than with words. But I tried, for his sake.

“Love you,” I murmured. Leaning down, I kissed his eyelids, his temple, along his jawline. By the time I reached his lips, he surged up to kiss me with a broken, needy sound.

I reached for the lube, then slicked two fingers and pushed them into Parker. He moaned as I invaded him, his body opening and relaxing easily.

Then, I added more lube to my fingers and reached behind me, pushing them into my own hole. I’d practiced a little, anticipating doing this at some point. But I hadn’t been ready until now. It felt right tonight, to show Parker that I wanted everything with him, any position, every form of making love.

Parker’s eyes widened as he watched me. “Simon?”

I bit down on my bottom lip. “Is this okay? I want you to fuck me tonight. I want to take you, but I want you to take me too.”

He pushed up on his elbows, brushing his lips over my shoulder. “Of course it’s okay. Damn.” He shuddered. “That’s… You better fuck me first, though. I might not last if I get inside you.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Challenge accepted.”

With hurried movements, I grabbed two condoms. Might as well save some time when the action was under way. I rolled one down Parker’s cock, then let him put the other one on me. I lifted his legs up and back, lining up with his glistening hole.

“Ready for me?”

“Always,” he said breathily. “Want you inside.”

I pushed inside, feeling his body stretch to accommodate me, tight and hot around my cock. Would I feel the same to him when he fucked me? Would my body let him inside, let him impale me with his long shaft? The thought made me shudder. I wanted to find out. I’d ordered some toys off the Internet to make sure I’d be ready, but I knew it would feel different with Parker, with a real, living person taking up space inside me. How could it not be? It was an incredibly intimate thing, sharing bodies like that.

“God, Simon,” he said, lifting his hips to take me deeper. “Fuck me. Please. I need you to move.”

I refocused on Parker, rather than the anticipation of what was to come. I pulled back, then thrust in, punching a moan from him. I did it again and again, picking up speed, angling my hips to hit him in just the right spot to draw out the most delicious sounds of pleasure.

His hand flew to his cock, squeezing and stroking over the condom. “Fuck, I need—”

I pulled out, and he made a sound of protest until I moved forward, crouching over his hips. I grabbed more lube, slicking it over his cock and pushing a bit more into me.

His eyes were wide, his lips parted as he panted. “You sure?” he asked.

I nodded. There might be better positions for a first time, but I wanted to be in control. This felt most comfortable for me. And I wanted to do everything, give Parker all the pleasure without making him work for it.

I pressed his cock against my hole, and Jesus Christ, it felt huge. I pushed back tentatively, gritting my teeth at the pressure.

“Wait,” he said, grasping my hips. “Not yet.”

I lifted up, and he slid his fingers to my hole, gently circling, stroking nerves awake. I’d pushed lube inside, but this was different. Parker wasn’t prepping me; he was seducing me. With teasing touches, gentle then firmer, he made me crave something more. When he pushed his index finger into me, I groaned from somewhere deep in my chest and curled over him.

“There you go,” he said softly in my ear. He stroked my insides, and it was such a strange feeling. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I whispered, feeling awkward. “Give me more.”

He added a second finger, spreading me wider, and I rocked back against his hand. It was both similar and different from using toys. My body remembered the stretching burn. But knowing it was Parker inside made all the difference. It turned something methodical into something magical.

He used his free hand to bring me in for a kiss, and when his tongue thrust into my mouth at the same time his fingers speared into my ass, I cried out.

“I think you’re ready,” he said.

He extracted his fingers, leaving me feeling empty, and I grasped his cock. My heart beat hard, not with nerves this time but anticipation. My hole throbbed a little, unused to so much activity, but it also left me burning to be filled again.

I shifted back until I felt the pressure of his cockhead, then pushed my hips down. Slowly, inch by inch, Parker slid inside of me. By the time I was seated, his full length in my body, we were both shaking.

“You’re inside me,” I said, sounding awestruck. It was stupid, maybe. I’d been inside him so many times. But accepting someone into my body felt so different. It felt as if I were peeling myself open and inviting Parker in.

“I really am.” Parker’s voice was thick with emotion. “Didn’t know if you’d ever want this.”

“You could have asked.”

He stroked his hands up my thighs, then skated his palms along my flanks. He brushed his thumbs over my nipples, making me tingle everywhere. “I didn’t want to rush anything. Besides, I love having you inside me. But this is…” He didn’t seem to have the words to express it. He changed tack. “You feel amazing.”

I could feel his cock flex inside me. It was an incredible feeling, knowing in this moment, he was part of me, touching my insides, reaching me in places no one else ever had.

“I need to move,” I gasped, suddenly desperate for more. I rocked my hips. “Fuck, I need it…”

“Yeah, fuck me.” Parker stripped off my condom and squeezed his fist around my cock, making me shudder. “Take what you need. Anything. I’ll give you anything.”

I ground down harder, working my ass up and down his shaft while he stroked mine. It felt amazing, pleasure lighting me up inside and out. The burn of his entry had subsided—or perhaps transformed was a better word. It had transformed into a burning, dark pleasure that wound me tighter and tighter. My body felt like a live wire thrumming with electricity and throwing sparks.

When Parker licked his palm and then stroked me with a slick hand, while suddenly powering his hips up, fucking me harder, I felt the tide of my pleasure rising, ready to sweep me away.

“Come with me,” I gasped. “Please, Parker, come inside me.”

“Oh God, yes.” He stroked me even faster. Fucked me harder. “Let go. I’m right there with you.”

My stomach tightened as he battered my prostate and jerked my cock. I couldn’t last another second. I trembled, forcing my eyes open to see his face. He was gazing at me, and there was no missing the wonder in his eyes, the love he had for me.

Pleasure lit me up, and I cried out hoarsely as I came over his fist, ass tightening on his cock still deep inside me. Seconds later, Parker gave a broken sound, thrusting once more into my still shuddering body and came.

I collapsed down onto his chest, kissing his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close.

“Sleep here?” he asked, sounding tentative.

We were still joined, his cock softening inside me. I couldn’t have dreamt of saying no to his request in this moment—and I didn’t want to anyway. I wanted every night with him. Every moment we could each spare.

“Where else would I sleep?”

His arms tightened around me, and his sigh made my hair flutter over my ear. “Good. I feel so close to you. I just can’t handle letting you go right now.”

“You never have to let me go.” I lifted my head enough to brush a kiss to his lips. “I’m serious, Parker. I’m all in.”

“Actually”—he thrust his hips a little, making me feel him inside—“I’m all in.”

He was still half-hard, and I tightened around him a little, making him hiss.

“Guess we both went all in tonight,” I said with a smirk.

“Yeah,” he said with a smile so bright it lit up the entire room. “I guess we did.”

* * *

PARKER

After we cleaned up, Simon and I curled up in bed, in each other’s arms, and it felt more natural than I’d ever expected. We hadn’t been this close—sleeping in a bed together—since our weekend trip to Riverton. That time, we’d just begun falling in love. I could see it now, how smitten we both were. But there had still been so much uncertainty between us.

That was gone now. I no longer carried a secret guilt about my position on the team and my wish to leave it behind. Simon knew, and he accepted and loved me anyway. And Simon seemed different too: more open, more vulnerable.

He could be so aggressive and dominating with sex—which was thrilling to experience—but tonight he’d given me something more. He’d let me inside his body, no easy move for someone as guarded as he was. He’d opened himself to me, shown me so much love that I had no doubt his feelings ran as deep as mine did.

Simon nuzzled my neck, seeming comfortable entangled with me on the bed, one of his legs over my thigh, his chest pressed up against my shoulder.

“I promised my grandparents I’d have breakfast with them,” he said.

“Oh.” That was disappointing. I’d hoped to spend a long morning in bed. Maybe if we set the alarm, we could make love before he had to leave?

“They’d, uh, like to meet you,” Simon said, arm tightening around me, giving away his tension.

I caught his eye. “You told them about me? About being bi?”

He nodded once. “Will you go with me?”

“Yes.” I smiled, so much warmth washing through me I wouldn’t be surprised if my skin started to glow. “I’d love to meet your grandparents. They sound great.”

“They really are.” He frowned a little. “They don’t want me to pay them back for school. Chels changed her plans. She was going to go to culinary school, but instead she took a job at a local bistro and enrolled in an online program.”

I shifted onto my side, putting us face to face. “Is that bad?”

He paused, as if thinking it through. “No. It’s just… I spent so much time feeling that I owed them, that I’d cost Chelsea her chance by losing my scholarship.” He sighed. “They all seem so happy though. Content. How can I argue? I thought I’d get a job close to home after graduation, work my ass off to repay them, and now they’re telling me I’m free to do whatever I want. It’s hard to wrap my head around.”

“I don’t know your family, but if they seem genuinely happy, maybe you should trust them. If your sister changed her plans, she probably has a good reason. Her own reasons, not yours.”

He smiled sheepishly. “Kind of like you had your reasons for giving up football?”

“You’re so passionate, Simon. I get why it was hard for you to understand my motivations. It’s why I took so long to tell you. I was afraid you’d never forgive me for giving up something you wanted so much.”

Simon kissed me. “You don’t have to want the same things I do—or did anyway. That Simon feels like another person. I only want you to be happy, to have everything you want, and I sincerely hope that one of those things will be me.”

“I do want you,” I said quietly. “I always will.”

“Then you have me,” he said. “Simple as that.”

Epilogue

SIMON

Three Weeks Later

Tracks was crowded, noisy with drunken chatter and laughter—no live band tonight, but music piped in through the sound system—and for once, I was happy to add to the explosion of sound. I blew a noisemaker near Parker’s ear, making him jump.

“Simon!” He laughed, shoving it away.

“Want another drink?” I asked, miming throwing back a shot since he might not hear me. Tonight, I was on the other side of the bar, part of the celebration after spring graduation. In fact, I’d never be behind the bar again, and I couldn’t say I was sad about it, though I’d miss Rhett.

Parker nodded, leaning in to speak in my ear. “Make it a Haymaker!”

“You’re living dangerously,” I said back.

“Make it two. You’re joining me!”

We had to press close, practically clinging to one another to speak and be heard, but it hardly mattered. We were a couple—and everyone here knew it. We were surrounded by friends, including Double D and his girlfriend; Johnston and Cruz, and their dates; Cooper and Trace; my sister and her boyfriend.

After some initial shock—and a few negative reactions on the part of the team—the closest of our friends had accepted our relationship. Darnell was still suspicious about what we might have done in his car, and Parker had spotted him searching the backseat with a black light. We both still laughed about that and refused to tell him whether we got up to any hanky-panky on his red velvet interior. Johnston and Cruz had been surprisingly laid-back about the whole thing, shrugging it off.

Hinkel had been the little punk of the bunch, but Coach had put him soundly in his place. Even with Parker’s final decision not to return to the team—lacking the desire, and fearing he’d only fuel his mother’s hopes for a change of heart—Coach had made it known that his team didn’t include homophobes.

Tonight, that was all behind us. We were celebrating graduation and a new chapter in my life. It was bittersweet for Parker and me, though. After the past few weeks of living in each other’s pockets—finally free to share a bed every night, alternating between the dorm and the frat—we’d be apart again.

But maybe we didn’t have to be. I hadn’t told him yet, but I had plans for us.

Parker held up two fingers, a challenging gleam in his eye. He was daring me to join him in knocking back the potent drink. I could play along—for now. But I didn’t want Parker getting so drunk we couldn’t talk about our future.

Now that I had something concrete to tell him, not maybes or what-ifs, the words burned on my tongue, eager to spill out. I went to the bar to order our drinks. I didn’t want to shout my news into his ears over the noise of the bar, but I didn’t want to prolong his anxiety. I knew Parker was concerned about where life would take me now.

Despite all our talk of our commitment to one another, our future had remained hazy. I hadn’t had a clear picture of where I would go after graduation. I’d had to talk to my family, search my heart, and consider my priorities.

In the end, it all came down to one thing.

Parker.

He was my heart, my soul, my calm in the shitstorm of life. It was sappy stuff, but true. He was my priority, and tonight, I wanted to make sure he’d always know that.

Tracks was busy, and I had to wait in line. When I finally got to the bar, I placed my order with a new bartender and glanced around for Rhett. I knew he’d be working on a hectic night like tonight. Like Parker, he had another year until graduation.

I spotted him at the far end, leaning in over the bar, gaze fixed on a slender guy in jeans, short-sleeved button-down, suspenders, and bowtie. His outfit gave him a hipster geek sort of vibe. He turned his head slightly, and I recognized him with a start. Ethan, from that day at the Keg House, when I felt almost jealous by how much he’d captured Parker’s attention.

He seemed to have captured Rhett’s entire focus now despite the lines of thirsty patrons. Ethan straightened, taking a step back, and Rhett put a hand on his wrist.

I raised an eyebrow as I watched them. I’d always suspected Rhett was into guys, and there was no missing his intense interest in Ethan. I toyed with the idea of wading through the crowd, teasing Rhett about it, but something in his expression changed my mind.

“Two Haymakers.” I looked back to the new bartender, a young woman with short, dark hair and vivid blue eyes. “Proceed with caution. These aren’t for the faint of heart.”

Smirking, I handed over my cash. “This is my boyfriend’s idea of a dare. I’ll make sure we don’t overdo it.”

It still gave me a weird thrill to call Parker my boyfriend aloud. It was nerve-racking, knowing that some people grimaced rather than smiled when hearing me say it, but it got easier each time.

The bartender smiled. “He must be the hot guy with eyes only for you. You’re a lucky one.”

I glanced over my shoulder, laughing when I got sight of Parker doing a ridiculous but oddly seductive dance while motioning me to come back to him. “That’s him. And, yes, I’m lucky as hell.”

I handed over my cash, slipped a couple of bills into the tip jar, and took the drinks. Parker took his from me and we clinked glasses before throwing back the burning liquor.

Then I leaned in close once more. “Let’s get some air.”

* * *

PARKER

I followed Simon out of the bar, my heart pounding—both from the rush of that shot and from a sudden fear that he wanted to talk about the future. I wanted a future with Simon desperately, but the reality of what it might require scared me.

Avoidance had seemed easier than having a heart to heart about how we might make long distance work. I was willing to wait out my senior year, put my head down and work, and subsist on phone calls, texts, and occasional visits. But would that be enough for Simon? And if he moved far away, into another state, how hard would it be to rejoin our lives once I graduated? I could teach in other states, but only if I got the proper certifications. And there was no guarantee there would be a job opening wherever he was.

A jumble of thoughts rushed through my mind, even as my heart knew that Simon and I would stay together, whatever obstacles we had to face. These past few weeks had been the happiest, most peaceful of my life. Simon and I had settled into a routine, practically living together. We spent most of our free time together. On weeknights, we grabbed dinner and went to the frat, playing video games with the other guys, or watched movies on my laptop in my dorm, before crashing together in bed. On weekends, I hung out at Tracks, flirting with Simon between customers, dancing with people for fun—and as a form of foreplay—until Simon dragged me off into an alley to make out like mad.

We got to know one another even better. And a relationship had never felt so right.

Still, at Simon’s serious look, my heart jumped uncomfortably.

“We should go back in and dance,” I said as soon as we stepped into the brisk air. “We’re celebrating!”

Simon tilted his head, eyes locked on mine. “I think we should talk about what comes next.”

I took a shaky breath. “Plenty of time for that tomorrow, right?”

Simon drew me away from the door, clearly unmoved by my desire to put off this talk.

“Parker, why are you so worried?” he asked as he pulled me close. “Don’t you know I’m all in? Didn’t we both say we’d make this work?”

Now, I’d made Simon worry. I winced. “Of course we’ll make it work. Yes, I know you’re all in. I am too.”

“Then why the avoidance?”

I cupped his face, leaning in to kiss him quickly. “Simon, I’ll do whatever it takes. Wait however long it takes. But thinking about you leaving…” I couldn’t go on.

Simon pulled me into an embrace. “Parker, babe, I’m not leaving you.”

“I know,” I said quickly. “I meant—”

“I know what you meant.” He drew back a little. “I’ve been waiting until I was sure, Parker. I just got word today. I don’t want you to think I’ve been holding out on you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I got a job offer at a little community college outside Riverton.”

“Riverton? But that’s so close.”

Simon nodded, lips twitching as if he were fighting a smile. “Easy driving distance. I’m going to look at apartments tomorrow. I want you to come with me if you want—”

I let out an unmanly squeal. “Really? Yes!”

Simon laughed a little, then pushed a hand through his hair. He was nervous, I realized. “And you understand what I’m suggesting, right? I don’t just want you to help me pick a place to live. Riverton is close enough to commute to college.”

The full impact of what Simon wanted hit me. My hands tightened on his arms, and I realized I was clutching him in a bruising grip. “You want to live together?”

He smiled tentatively. “I do. I did some checking, and Riverton schools is an option for your student teaching, right?”

“Yeah.” I felt numb. “How long have you been considering this?” My eyes narrowed. “Why wouldn’t you tell me this sooner?”

He drew a breath. “I knew you were still torn about Coach’s request that you play one more season. I didn’t want to influence your decision. Living off-campus would be too hard with that grueling schedule. But since you decided not to return, I’m hoping maybe you want to stay as close as we can? If you don’t want to leave campus, I’ll understand, and we can still see each other.”

“Oh, shut up! Of course I want to live with you, Simon.” I kissed him hard. “I still wish you would have told me sooner. Thinking of you leaving, maybe having to move out of state, was killing me.”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to do the right thing. I didn’t want to pressure you into choosing me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, you had to go turn into a good guy who only wants to do right by me. When did that happen?”

Simon laughed. “No idea, somewhere between punching you and sexting with a guy named HotPan, I started to fall in love.”

“It was the awesome screen name, wasn’t it?”

Simon snorted. “I pictured a frying pan so many times when talking to you.”

“You’re one to talk, BiCuriousStud,” I said. “I still can’t believe I fell for someone with such a big…ego.”

He gave me a little shove. “It was short for student.”

“Suuuure, it was.”

Simon shook his head, smiling at me with not just his mouth, but his entire body. Every pore seemed to radiate contentment and love. I could feel it like a physical caress.

“Come on, let’s go get that dance, and then later you can enjoy my big…ego.”

“All night?”

“Every night, babe. Me and my ego are yours.”

I clasped his hand, drawing him back toward the bar, to the graduation celebration that suddenly felt more like a party with our future stretching out more clearly before me—and toward a new dream.

One we would build together.

THE END

Next up! 

Ethan Greene: Shy geek, secretly bicurious, and ... experimenting with my gay roommate? Pre-order Tapped By My Roommmate now.

Want more Parker and Simon? Download a free bonus sex scene!

Thank You For Reading!

Thank you for reading Simon and Parker’s story! Matched By My Rival is not really a sports romance—though it does include football players—and that’s because I know nothing about sports, especially football. I couldn’t ignore such a big part of the characters’ lives, sadly, so I did my best. You can thank my husband for any details that are correct. And any that aren’t? Go ahead and blame him too! That’s true love, right? Thanks, also, to my assistant, Sabella Long, who researched rigorous college athlete schedules and typical routines in the off season. I sincerely hope you enjoyed getting to know Simon and Parker and all their great friends. Darnell, in particular, is quite charming. But he will never get a book. Football and me? Never again! (I know, never say never. But writing sports is hard!)

Seriously, though, every book takes so many people to make it the best it can be. I have to thank Brigham Vaughn, my alpha reader and a fabulous author in her own right; beta readers, Susan, Michael, and Anita; my copy editor, Kayleigh Sky; my proofreader, Julie; my cover designer, Cate Ashwood; and all of my readers who keep me going by reading and loving my books. Thank you for sharing the word about my romances and writing lovely reviews. You help indie authors like me so much!

Next up in the series we have Tapped By My Roommmate, featuring flirty bartender, Rhett Hayes, and his roommate, the lizard-loving geek, Ethan Greene. See, this is much more my comfort zone. You can expect many more geeks in my future, particularly sweet, flustered, somewhat inexperienced geeks who charm the pants off casual players.

If you missed Cooper and Trace’s story, make sure to grab SwipedBy My Dad’s Best Friend.

If you enjoy my work, I hope you’ll join my Facebook group DJ and Company for fun teasers and other goodies! I also offer extras on my Ko-Fi page, so don’t miss out!

About the Author

DJ Jamison writes romances about everyday life and extraordinary love featuring a variety of queer characters, from gay to bisexual to asexual. DJ grew up in the Midwest in a working-class family, and those influences can be found in her writing through characters coping with real-life problems: money troubles, workplace drama, family conflicts and, of course, falling in love. DJ spent more than a decade in the newspaper industry before chasing her first dream to write fiction. She spent a lifetime reading before that and continues to avidly devour her fellow authors’ books each night. She lives in Kansas with her husband, two sons, one snake, and a sadistic cat named Birdie.

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Books by DJ Jamison

Thrust Into Love

Swiped By My Dad’s Best Friend: Cooper is a frat boy, general screwup, and…Daddy’s boy?

Matched By My Rival: Simon is an ex-football star, a bitter rival, and…falling for the enemy?

Love Notes

Secret Admirer: I’m his brother’s best friend. He doesn’t know I’m also his secret admirer…

Naughty & Nice: He’s my ex-stepbrother, he’s never liked me, and now we’re snowed in together. Good thing he doesn’t know I’m in love with him…

Boyfriend Freeze: I’ve sworn off men for sixty days. I can’t possibly have him. But a cute geeky librarian has never been so tempting…

Marital Bliss

Surprise Groom: Caleb is shocked to learn his family could lose Bliss Island Resort—unless he can pull off a marriage of convenience with an investor’s gay, go-go dancing son.

Wrangling a Groom: Wyatt and Diego made a childhood pact to get married one day. But they grew up, life got messy, and young love wasn’t enough. When Diego visits the ranch, they have one more chance…Can they get it right in time to fulfill that marriage pact after all?

Nobody’s Groom: A sexy ranch hand and a naïve country boy ignite each other’s tempers—and passions—in this bisexual awakening, cowboy romance.

Faking a Groom: Avery Kinkaid has been repressing his deepest urges for as long as he can remember. But when his father pushes him too far, he’s ready to call his bluff. All he needs is a groom, and his first love is the perfect man for the role of fake fiancé.

Hearts and Health

Heart Trouble: Nurse Ben Griggs is leery of trusting his heart to anyone, let alone a thrill-seeking patient, but he agrees to a series of dates, if only to prevent more injuries!

Bedside Manner: Zane Kavanaugh is still recovering from a traumatic coming out, but he finds himself drawn to the calm, collected, much older ER doctor who treated him.

Urgent Care: Surgeon Trent Cavendish returns to his hometown—and his first love. Xavier isn’t the kid he remembers, but a sexy man in lace and a competent nursing student. And neither version of the man is going to make it easy for Trent to find his second chance at love.

Room for Recovery: When Beau is bullied, teen heartthrob Wade comes heroically to his rescue. But their growing attraction won’t come without painful truths.

Surprise Delivery: A thrill-seeking doctor teaches a workaholic administrator how to live in the moment before the responsibility of a baby arrives, and in return he finds love after loss.

Orderly Affair: A bi-curious orderly explores with a geeky lab tech, but between Ian’s reluctance to come out and Callum’s annoying ex, they’ll have to work for their HEA in this hookups-to-lovers romance.

Operation Makeover: A cute but insecure X-ray tech and a gorgeous hairdresser join forces for a makeover that brings them both a love they never saw coming.

Rapid Response: A firefighter discovers a new side to his sexuality with a bossy male paramedic. Their chemistry is red-hot, but Sean will have to come to terms—not just with his attraction to a man, but with his desperate need to please.

Real Estate Relations

Full Disclosure: Can a new real estate agent negotiate a happy ending with a sexy but enigmatic client in this humorous mystery romance?

Buyer’s Remorse: Can Lee find his second chance—at life and love—and solve the mystery of dying teens before he ends up taking the blame?

My Anti-Series

My Anti-Valentine: Jaded by relationships gone wrong, Bret throws an anti-Valentine’s party, never suspecting he’ll meet someone who could love him and accept his graysexuality.

My Anti-Boyfriend: Two friends with benefits must make a choice about their future when Brad realizes he’s in love and can no longer play it casual.

My Anti-Marriage: One drunken night in Vegas and a pair of wedding rings bring together two ex-boyfriends in this enemies to lovers, second-chance rom-com.

Standalone Romances

Yours for the Holiday: Remy loves to hate his brother’s best friend. Or maybe he hates to love him. Either way, sparks fly when the two share a room during a holiday vacation.

All I Want is You: One kiss under the mistletoe destroyed a friendship. Will another Christmas kiss remake it into something better?

Five Fake Dates: How many fake dates will it take to decide if your best friend should be your boyfriend, and whether one kiss was a fluke or only the beginning of a bisexual discovery? Five, obviously!

Love by Number: Aidan doesn’t have the best record with relationships, but he’s had a lifelong love affair with baseball. When he needs a ride to the World Series, though, he must rely on a sexy artist who is as spontaneous as Aidan is rigid. Will their differences add up to love?

Want more?

This is just a sampling of my books. See my full catalogue on my Amazon author page.