Jesse grabbed Chuck’s wrist, stopping him from any further teasing. “You’re fucking with me. Those tickets are impossible unless you’re a player, fucking a player, or you’ve been a season ticket holder for forty years.”
Chuck arched an eyebrow.
Jesse scrubbed his hands over his face, a smile popping out for the first time this morning. “Or you’re a famous sports photographer.”
“It helps. So, you up for it?”
“Now you’re definitely fucking with me. I’m in for damn sure. When?”
“That’s the hitch. They’re for Sunday’s game. So, we should probably leave tomorrow morning and head out.”
“Don’t want to fly?”
“Why would we? It’s only about seven hours and we can do that in one shot. Road trip, man. We can book a room close to the stadium then tailgate Sunday morning.”
“Fuck it,” Jesse said, slapping his palm on Chuck’s thigh. “Let’s take off tonight, it’s Friday anyway. We can skip tonight’s league game, go partway, and crash somewhere. I’ll take Monday off so we can linger a bit. Take two days to get back too.”
“You like road trips, huh?”
Jesse gave a sly grin that had Chuck’s heart speeding. “I’ll bring the gummy bears.”
Chuck sputtered. “That was not at all what I expected you to say.”
“How about, I’ll bring the condoms and lube, you bring the beer?”
“That’s more like it.” Under Chuck’s feet, Precious shifted, and Chuck rubbed at her side until she flipped belly up. “You have someone who can watch her for the weekend?”
“I’ll drop her off at Kam’s. The kids love her.”
“Perfect.”
“You know what would be even more perfect?”
Chuck surveyed the mischievous glint in Jesse’s eyes. “I think I may have an idea.”
“All those hours on the road. Just the two of us. Makes a man wonder how we’ll fill all that time….”
“I’ll load up my Britney playlist,” Chuck deadpanned.
Jesse kicked at him playfully. “You are an asshole.”
“Says the Katy Perry fanatic.” Chuck cackled when Jesse’s eyes went wide. “Oh yeah, no getting away with that hidden love. I scrolled through your playlists. We can alternately torture each other with our popsugar fluff of choice.”
Jesse set his foot on Chuck’s groin and rolled his foot over the bulge. “That’s not the kind of torture I was thinking about.”
“It’s my truck we’re taking,” Chuck replied, “so I’m going to be the one in the driver’s seat.”
“Yeah, well, I hope you can drive one-handed. You know how much I love it when you grab the back of my head.”
Chuck arched into Jesse’s touch, growing hard just from the thought of Jesse draped over him with a powerful engine rumbling below him. He blew out a long breath. “Fucking hell, Jesse. That’s hot.”
It hadn’t been as awkward as Jesse had worried on Friday checking into a hotel and confirming they wanted one room with one gigantic bed—they weren’t anywhere near Kensington. When Saturday afternoon came and he and Chuck looked for a place to land for the night, Jesse even stepped up his game and reserved a room at the five-star hotel next to the stadium.
It set him back much more than he’d expected to pay for the entire weekend, but he had absolutely no qualms this time about checking in with another dude since he was paying so much for the room. Then he’d blown Chuck on the biggest bed he’d ever seen and fucked him up against the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lit stadium. With the sweat on Chuck’s forehead and the steam fogging up the windows, it had looked like Chuck had a goddamn halo.
Jesse had to wonder what the fuck he was doing. How this had happened at all. And why it felt more effortless instead of more complicated as they got to know each other. None of his other relationships had ever gone this way.
But none of his other dates had indulged him by arriving in a frigid parking lot at daybreak, cracking open a beer, and grilling. And maybe that was part of the reason why his relationships had never lasted. He hadn’t been choosing anyone for how they fit with him, only how he fit inside them.
Jesse rubbed his gloved hands together and blew into them to take away some of the chill, his breath billowing out in puffs. They were in the player’s lot, a prime spot at any stadium, let alone one of the oldest and most coveted in the league. Unlike the other surface lots around the area, this one was nearly empty since entrance could only be gained by the players’ friends and family.
Chuck was sprawled out in a folding camping chair, legs askew, can of beer resting on his chest. He was sporting a perma-grin that made Jesse’s heart beat just a bit faster than it should’ve, especially for how fucking cold it was.
“Not gonna lie, Chuck. I’m kinda diggin’ that you’ve got all these connections.”
Chuck took a swig of his beer, his smile almost hidden behind the can. “The benefits were even better when I was directly working with a magazine. Most of my professional networks are solid despite jumping ship from that work. Come on. Let’s eat up and grab our seats. We don’t want to miss the pre-game fly-over.”
If there was any sight that could bring a grown man to tears, then Jesse was witnessing it right now. Every person in Wellings Field was on their feet as they honored the local firefighters who’d battled a massive blaze downtown a few weeks back, losing two of their own. A group of four fighter jets did a low fly-over, wingtips seemingly skimming over the rim of the open-air stadium, breaking the moment of silence with a thunderous roar.
“Wow,” Jesse breathed out, goosebumps rising on his skin. The Wellings’ fly-overs were legendary—a tradition designed to bring the community together in tough times—but experiencing it first-hand was a whole other level of emotion.
Chuck bumped up against him, eyes bright. “I know, right?”
Then the stands were shaking from thumping feet and the roar of the crowd as both teams took to the field. Neither of them were Jesse’s favorite, but he couldn’t give a fuck. They were seated directly behind the Bay’s home bench and Jesse was having a hard time focusing any of his attention on the game in favor of watching the players, coaches, and crew on the sidelines.
“How many of their asses are you checking out?” Chuck asked, his gaze locked to one of the wide receivers.
Jesse chortled. “All of them. They’re right the fuck there! I don’t know how you kept your lens focused on the field when working.”
“‘Cause there’s nothing better than those asses, in those tight uniforms, plus sweat and grunting and men piling on top of other men. The real action is when they’re getting down and dirty on the field.”
“It’s a beautiful sport.”
Chuck lifted his beer. “Cheers to that.”
“You miss it? Documenting pro games instead of a local boxing club?”
Chuck shrugged. “Yes and no.”
He waited for Chuck to continue, but when he didn’t, Jesse pressed. He wanted to hear more. “I mean, I get the benefits part. That’s easy to understand. But what was it that made you want to do sports photography for a living?”
“I never really planned it, to be fair. I always loved the camera—the mechanics of it, and the high of catching something in my lens…. A second that would never be repeated in the exact same way ever again. That I focused on sports photography was all because of one of my exes. I started documenting the rise in his career and when he went pro things just fell together after that.”
Jesse was stunned. “You dated a pro?”
“Yeah, we’re not having that conversation right now. Later.” Jesse arched an eyebrow and Chuck laughed. “It’s not a big deal. This just isn’t the place to be throwing that name out there.”
Jesse scanned the sidelines. They were surrounded by a hell of a lot of cameras, microphones, and people. “So, can you tell me what you don’t miss?”
“Being a part of the media is a game unto
itself, know what I mean? It’s all about advertising revenue and beating out other outlets for the story. I’ve never been a cut-throat type of person. I could have made a hell of a lot more money if I was.”
Jesse considered that. He and Chuck hadn’t talked salaries or retirement funds. They barely talked about who picked up the tab. Jesse had to assume that Chuck was pretty well set financially. “But you’re comfortable enough to have the freedom to do what you want now.”
“I don’t need much in life. Roof over my head, good food, a fast computer….” Chuck knocked his knee against Jesse’s. “Warm body to share it with is all the bonus I need.”
He took one hand off his beer to set it on Chuck’s thigh and stopped cold, returning his grip to the chilled can. He couldn’t touch Chuck here. Shit, he wasn’t ready to touch Chuck anywhere where someone could make assumptions about them. It didn’t matter how far he was away from Kensington. It didn’t matter that their assumptions would be correct….
Jesse stilled, realization washing over him—but he wanted that to be different.
Chuck glanced at him, eyes narrowing. “You okay?”
Jesse shifted on the bench, bumping up against Chuck and soaking up the warmth of having him at his side.
Chuck wasn’t just a warm body to keep him company, though. He was a friend and Jesse…. Fuck. Jesse wanted him to be more.
“Yeah, Chuck. I’m really good.”
Chuck grinned, his dimple deepening with his carefree smile.
Fuck the fighter jets, that was a sight to bring a grown man to tears.
“They should be headed out soon,” Chuck said to Jesse as they stood in the area between the locker room and the visitor’s entrance.
Jesse was fixated on the trophy case in front him—a collection that had exploded in the last five years, including the league championship two seasons ago. Chuck had been in the press horde the day they’d won, but it was surreal even for him to see all their success laid out for display like this.
Jesse gaped, tapping at the glass toward the Bay’s most recent addition. “I was at Kam’s house the night they won this. Tayshaun Grant’s catch with ten seconds left was unbelievable.” He turned and whacked Chuck across the shoulder. “Your shot of it was all over the internet for weeks after.”
“It was a great game. T is wicked agile and I could barely keep him in my lens. Scoot in, let’s get a pic in front of the case.”
Jesse scrunched up next to him and took the phone from Chuck’s hand, extending out his arm to take a picture that encompassed the two of them and the trophy case. Chuck swiped through the three shots Jesse had popped off. “Not bad, Jesse,” he complimented, then heard the players beginning to vacate the locker room.
“Chuckie!” a familiar voice called, a fist pumping above the crowd.
He grinned when he saw Jesse turn, Jesse’s jaw unhinging as he caught on to who was calling out to Chuck. Chuck wrapped Tayshaun in a hug and was crushed between the wide receiver’s arms.
“Thought I saw you in the stands,” Tayshaun said. “It’s weird to not see you with the press pass.”
“It’s weird not to wear it. It’s not keeping me from coming by to see you punks, though. My back thanks me for not having to lug any of the gear around anymore.”
“I bet you got one of those phones that has a crazy good camera.”
“Guilty.” Chuck pocketed his cell. “T, this is Jesse. Jesse, Tayshaun. I’ve been covering him since his college days.”
Jesse shook Tayshaun’s hand. “Great game.”
“I’m only bringing home three game balls.” Tayshaun shrugged his bag farther up his shoulder as he grinned. “Slow day.”
“Yeah, well, my fantasy team score this week disagrees.”
“Glad I could help out.” Tayshaun looked at Chuck. “We’re heading out tonight. You two in town long enough to grab a beer?”
Chuck glanced at Jesse. It was him that needed to get back for work—Chuck’s time was much more flexible now. Jesse didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, man. We can make that happen.”
“Cool, cool. Meet up with us at All-Stars on Second. Ten-ish.”
He had to give Jesse credit; at least he waited until Chuck had said his hellos to the other players he knew, they’d made their way back out to his truck, and the doors were shut before Jesse freaked the fuck out.
“What the hell? They call you Chuckie? I don’t even know who you are, man. This is fucking crazy.”
Chuck laughed and started up the truck. “They’re guys like us, Jesse.”
“Gods,” he corrected Chuck. “They are football gods.”
“Nah. Just wait until we spend some more time with them tonight.” Chuck smirked as he pulled out of the player’s lot. “You’ll see.”
All-Stars was a dive. A worn-down shack on the literal wrong side of the tracks on the south side of James Bay. There wasn’t even a bouncer at the front door.
“This is my kind of place,” Jesse said as they walked into the bar. “Feeling those normal guy vibes.”
“Told ya.”
Tayshaun waved to them from a table at the other side of the packed room and Chuck acknowledged him before turning back to Jesse. “I’ll grab us a couple beers. Why don’t you go over and say hi.”
Jesse took a step, then hesitated.
Chuck raised an eyebrow as he surveyed one of the biggest, most physically intimidating men he’d ever met freak out over making conversation. “Just regular guys, Jesse, I promise.”
“The Bay’s quarterback is sitting at the table next to him.”
“Okay, so he’s kind of a dick. But you know all about dealing with those because of the Kensington boys.”
Jesse smirked. “Fuck you. Hurry up.”
Despite Jesse’s urging, Chuck took his time at the bar so Tayshaun and Jesse had a chance to talk. He chatted with a couple other Bay’s players who were seated there and by the time he made his way over to Jesse, Jesse was guffawing over something Tayshaun had said. Chuck slipped Jesse’s glass in front of him and took the seat next to him.
“We making friends here then?” he said.
“Your boy is sick, Chuckie. I like him.”
“No surprise there.” Chuck took a deep swig of his drink, the local craft beer rolling down his throat in a pleasant rush. “Did Jesse tell you he used to play in college?”
“Yeah, we were comparing notes on treatment for janky knees.” Tayshaun sat back and gestured between the two of them. “So, how long you been together?”
Chuck froze just as Jesse’s eyebrows shot up and he gripped his glass with white knuckles, stammering, “We’re— Uh— We—”
Tayshaun thumped his beer against the table and winced. “Shit. I’m sorry. I assumed— And I— Shit. I should know damn well better, of all people.”
That brought stony silence to the table, but Chuck held his ground, waiting for Jesse to put the pieces together. While he hadn’t expected the topic to come up quite this way, he’d hoped Tayshaun would feel comfortable enough with Jesse to open up. Because Tayshaun was a regular guy, and….
Jesse leaned forward. “Wait. You’re gay?”
Tayshaun nodded. “My team knows, and so do the coaches. It’s an open secret as they call it. I don’t know if I’m ready to be the first out player in the league. Shitload of pressure.”
Chuck shrugged. “You’re a franchise player. It may be easier for you than others.”
“I ever decide to do it, then you’ll be the first I call. You’ll make my ass look like the masterpiece it is.”
“I’ll grab us another round.” Jesse excused himself and headed for the bar.
Chuck glanced at Jesse over his shoulder. He hadn’t outright denied anything between them, but he hadn’t confirmed it either. And even though he’d left the table, he wasn’t running for the door. How fucked up was it that Chuck considered avoiding a panicked exodus a win?
Chuck sighed.
It was also much too familiar.
&n
bsp; “Sorry about that,” Tayshaun said.
All around that could’ve gone better, but he hadn’t been able to figure out how to broach the subject without betraying either Tayshaun’s or Jesse’s trust.
Chuck waved off the apology. He’d find a way to talk to Jesse about it later. “Your season’s going well.”
“Football is my life.”
“Guess that means you’re not seeing Nunez anymore?”
“We burned hot and sputtered the fuck out. Couldn’t find any time once he got traded. How about you?” Tayshaun tipped his head up. “You seeing anyone?”
Chuck downed the rest of his beer. “Yeah. And it’s—”
“Me,” Jesse finished for him, setting the beers down.
Chuck swallowed, the word complicated lodging unsaid in his suddenly dry throat. Had Jesse just…?
Jesse plopped into his chair, his gaze locked to Tayshaun’s. “We just met about six weeks ago, but I can’t seem to shake him. He keeps showing up in my bed.”
A distinct crimson stained Jesse’s cheeks and half of his beer had been drained even though he’d only been gone for minutes. Chuck grounded himself in those details as he stared disbelievingly at Jesse.
“Chuckie’s tenacious,” Tayshaun said. “Like a dog with a bone.”
“Tell me about it,” Jesse responded. “Tenacious and loyal—even when I asked him to keep us quiet.”
Chuck’s head spun. With Tayshaun across the table, there was little he could say to acknowledge what had just happened, but he couldn’t let the moment pass unrecognized either.
He didn’t have to scramble for the words though, because Tayshaun was already leaning across the table. “Aw hell. You’re not out either, then?”
Jesse shook his head.
“Well”—Tayshaun grinned—“then I guess we have more to talk about than knees.”
“Guess we do.”
Then Jesse set his hand on Chuck’s thigh and squeezed.
Chuck felt the echoes of that touch for the rest of the night. He nursed the beer Jesse had bought for him until the contents were flat and warm, then stuck with water after that—wanting to remember every second of unguarded conversation. Every rumbling laugh Tayshaun elicited from Jesse. Every knowing glance Jesse sent his way.
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