by Beth Bolden
Nick needed to know Colin was serious.
“I can do that,” Colin said, feeling for the first time since Nick had arrived in Miami like he finally had a solid plan.
Teddy grinned and clasped him, sweaty back and all, into a tight hug. He slapped him on the shoulder. “Man, you are the realest. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
Like she had a sixth sense, Jemma called him almost as soon as he got into the car to drive back home.
“Good timing,” he said, “I’m on my way home from the practice facility.”
“I know,” she said.
So she’d called Nick first, to make sure Colin was alone. He’d just taken a quick shower at the practice facility, but he nearly started sweating again. “Am I about to be interrogated?” he only half-joked.
“Very funny,” Jemma snarked back. “Maybe I wanted to ask how it was going since you have neglected to tell me anything.”
“Obviously fine, otherwise you probably would have gotten a text.”
“Obviously,” Jemma imitated him right back. “Maybe I was more interested in hearing how well it’s going.”
Colin sighed. “What do you want me to tell you, Jem? That I like him? You already know that.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “Do you think I’m angry about that and that’s why I called? I’m fucking thrilled you like him. I want you to be happy.”
“Yes, well, it’s not that easy.” He hated the way he sounded so wounded and defensive, like he wanted her to be angry that he’d moved on. And that hadn’t been true for a while now. He’d not wanted nor expected her jealousy.
“You’re kidding, right?” Jemma laughed all of a sudden, lightening the mood. “You actually must be joking.”
“Why does everyone say this is so easy?” Colin grumbled. “Romance is difficult.”
“Yeah, maybe for people that aren’t Sports Illustrated cover models who are attempting to win over men who are already crazy about them.”
“We don’t know that’s true.”
“Actually, maybe we don’t know it’s true, but I certainly do. Nick has been absolutely fascinated by you from day one. Why do you think he hired me?”
Colin felt his insides jellify. “Seriously?” he demanded.
He could feel Jemma’s eye roll over the phone. It was that powerful. “The only one who doesn’t seem to know how crazy Nick is about you is you, dumbass.”
“I really hope you abuse Gabriel this viciously,” Colin retorted.
“A sign of my true love and affection,” Jemma sing-songed back at him.
“Still not easy,” Colin complained, “though definitely getting easier.”
“You’ve owned him hook, line, and sinker since Nelson Mandela. Though god knows why.”
“You’re just jealous he got to reveal that tidbit to the world.”
Jemma huffed. “That’s assuming I wanted to tell people that you rank Nelson Mandela over Tom Brady.”
“I hate to tell you, but your big fat crush on Tom Brady is showing.”
“And so is yours. Except it’s not on Tom Brady.”
Colin was silent for a moment. “Do you really think I should make a move? Like a real move?”
Jemma was rarely serious, but because she was his best friend, she knew the exact moment he needed her to be. “Yes. If a real move is asking him to be your boyfriend and then your husband and to white picket fence your stupid private island, then yes. Make a real move. He’s a great guy. He tries to hide it, but it’s there.”
“I know,” Colin said softly. “I see it.”
“I thought you would,” Jemma said, and she was being a good enough friend that he valiantly ignored her smug tone. Which told him exactly what she’d been doing, inviting him as their fourth to that stupid ultimate dodgeball tournament. Jemma was a lot of things, but subtle was rarely one of them.
“Text me updates,” Jemma demanded. “If the real move happens, I want to hear about it.”
“Really?” Colin asked dubiously.
“Gabe and I might have a bet going,” Jemma admitted a little sheepishly. “And again, I want to know because I want you to be happy. This is a big thing.”
“Don’t say that,” Colin begged, trying to ignore the fluttering of nerves at the base of his stomach. He knew some people called them butterflies, but they just made him nauseous. “Keep telling me it’s gonna be easy.”
“You won the Heisman, O’Connor,” she teased him. “You’ve got this in the bag.”
Colin came home to a quiet house. He grabbed a water from the fridge, and climbed upstairs, pausing at the landing to debate whether he should go to his room as planned for a quick nap or if he should look in on Nick. The door was open and he could hear music playing and the rhythmic tapping of Nick’s fingers on his laptop keyboard.
He didn’t let himself think about it, and instead forced his legs to carry him (despite the rolling of his stomach) towards the doorway of the bedroom Nick had claimed.
Nick glanced up, hair mussed like he’d been running his hands through it, eyes crystalline blue, and a smile playing on his lips. Colin felt his heart stutter. “Hey,” Nick said, sounding pleased to see him. “Have a good workout?”
“Yeah.” Colin couldn’t find words but he could still grin foolishly, which was all he was doing. A long morning away and he grinned like an idiot when he was back with Nick. He was in bad shape.
Nick wiggled his fingers on the keyboard. “I’ve been getting a workout of my own.”
Colin tried to act casual by leaning against the doorjamb. “I’m gonna take a nap, but we’ll go out in a few hours, if you’re cool with that?”
“Sure, I’m down with whatever.” Nick grinned. “Did you think of someplace?”
“Oh, I know exactly where I’m taking you,” Colin said. “I hope you’re ready for a re-match.”
“A re-match?” Nick looked very intrigued, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. It was a really good look on him. Colin was about five seconds away from leaning over and showing him just how much he liked it.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice going low and smoky. Nick’s eyes widened, like he knew exactly what Colin was thinking when he sounded that way. And he didn’t look like he hated it. At all.
Maybe Jemma was right. Maybe this was going to be easier than he’d thought.
Colin took Nick to his favorite hole-in-the-wall pizza place, at the far end of a run-down strip mall, where the pizza was hot and greasy and the owner had a collection of old school video games and pinball machines in a back room.
When they walked into the unassuming entrance, Nick shot Colin a delighted look.
“I’m so glad you approve,” Colin retorted as they sat down in a far booth, even as he couldn’t stop grinning.
“I knew this was in you somewhere, Mr. Private Island,” Nick crowed.
Colin laughed. “I’m from Alaska. It was always there.”
“But now,” Nick said, his expression growing sly and knowing, “you’re letting me see it.”
Colin traced the carved graffiti on the scarred wooden tabletop with a finger. “You were right,” he said. “I’ve been hiding who I am for too long.”
Nick leaned forward, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm, and Colin could only hope that at least some of Nick’s excitement wasn’t professional. As he leaned forward, his hands shifted closer towards Colin’s and he had a sudden, intense, throat-drying desire to reach out and grab Nick’s hands and hold them. After all, that had really been Teddy’s advice, hadn’t it? Touch him, Teddy had practically said.
Colin steeled his nerves – the same place he dug from every time he faced down a blitzing defense, and threw a touchdown pass against all odds – and reached out, merely brushing his fingers across the back of Nick’s hand. It was a tiny touch, miniscule and maybe inconsequential to the rest of the world.
To Colin, it felt like everything.
Nick’s eyes met Colin’s, an irresistible smoky blue. “Not anymore
, you aren’t,” Nick said softly.
“Not anymore,” Colin confirmed, letting his fingers trail more firmly over Nick’s skin – his knuckles, his wrist, his palm, until he was loosely cradling his hand. “This is who I am.”
Maybe if he’d been a tiny bit braver, he could have added, and you’re who I want, but Colin figured the hand-holding was fairly self-explanatory. And he intended to become even clearer as the night progressed.
He might not always be able to say what he felt, but he could show Nick, and Colin hoped that would be enough.
The waiter appeared at their table, a young teenager with blue hair and a nose ring. “What can I get you?” he asked, his eyes skating over where their skin was touching. It wasn’t an intimate touch, but it was enough. The kid’s eyes widened a little, but he kept his mouth shut.
Colin, too, found he couldn’t find the words. “We’re going to need a minute,” Nick said dryly, shooting Colin an amused glance.
“First time?” Nick teased after the waiter moved on.
“You know it is,” Colin said.
“Right, well, let me guess. You like lots of meat on your pizza.”
“Half-right,” Colin retorted. “I’m an equal opportunist. Personally, I like the Panhandle Classic.”
Nick flipped open the menu, consulted the description and gave a sharp nod. Glancing over at the whiteboard that had the day’s draft beers listed, he picked out a microbrew that Colin knew was smooth and easy to drink.
When the blue-haired waiter returned, Colin was feeling even more confident and had made a pointed show of tucking his fingers between Nick’s.
They ordered, and after the waiter left, Nick looked up at him. “Aren’t you worried that he’ll tell someone? He must have recognized you.”
“I’m not hiding,” Colin said simply. “Besides, I sort of thought the plan was to tell everyone.”
Nick shot him a look.
“I mean, obviously in your article, but something like this doesn’t gain much traction if it isn’t official, right? It’s just someone’s word, if he even chooses to tell anyone.”
Nick’s expression grew troubled. “Yeah, of course, but it’s one thing to come out as bisexual and it’s another to actually publicly demonstrate interest in men.”
“I mean…that’s the point?” Colin was confused and couldn’t pretend otherwise.
“I guarantee,” Nick said, a trifle bitterly, “you’ll come out and say you like both men and women, and some people will only hear half of that sentence.”
“Then they’re morons,” Colin said.
Nick just shrugged. “I’m just telling you what’s likely to happen.”
“That’s not right.”
Nick’s expression was wan. “So much of the world isn’t, especially about this.”
The waiter arrived back with their pitcher of beer, and Nick gracefully untangled their hands to pour them each a glass.
“I think a man’s favorite pizza says a lot about him,” Nick observed, clearly wanting to steer their conversation away from less potentially charged topics. “What’s this pizza going to tell me about you?”
“Nuh-uh,” Colin said, wagging a finger at him. “It’s definitely your turn. Tell me about your favorite pizza. I told you that you had to pay to play.”
Nick leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms over his chest in mock protest. “Never mind that I’m here to learn about you,” he huffed.
“Don’t care,” Colin insisted.
“Fine,” Nick said. “It’s a place that’s pretty similar to this one actually. Strip mall in LA. Ugly as hell. Ratty upholstery and broken booths. But the pizza is fucking heaven. My favorite is actually this white pizza they make – homemade mozzarella and garlic and basil. It’s the simplest thing on earth and incredible.”
Colin grinned at him. “You’re saying you’re simple?”
Nick grinned right back. “I’m saying I’m delicious.”
Colin was stunned into momentary speechlessness. Or maybe that was the tsunami wave of want that was suddenly crashing over him. He already knew Nick was going to be delicious, he wanted to taste so much he felt lightheaded with it.
His fingers tightened on his beer glass. “This place doesn’t only have pizza, actually,” Colin said, because he couldn’t keep talking about kissing and stay on his side of the booth. “There’s a pretty big arcade in the back.”
“You challenging me to a game?” Nick’s eyes had gotten impossibly smokier as they regarded Colin over the rim of his glass.
“Absolutely.”
“I’m sure you’ll be a worthy opponent.”
The pizza came and they dug into the pie enthusiastically. As Nick chewed through his second piece, he glanced over at Colin. “I think I figured it out,” he said. “What this says about you.”
“Oh?” Colin finished this third piece and reached for another.
“I think,” Nick said thoughtfully, “that it’s deceptive. On the surface level, it’s just another pizza from another neighborhood place. The kind that gives out trophies for the little league teams, and hosts the annual kids’ soccer parties, and it’s the place where they know your order when you tell them your name. But it’s way more than the sum of its parts. The crust is good, the sauce is solid, the toppings are fresh. But together, they work in harmony. You can’t judge them by themselves. You gotta take it all together.”
Colin raised an eyebrow. “And that’s like me?”
“I mean,” Nick gestured with his pizza slice. “Heisman trophy winner. National championship team. First pick in the NFL draft. Rookie of the year. Private island owner. People try to judge you by all of those things, but the truth is, you’re bigger than all of them. You’re more.”
“That’s awfully philosophical for pizza night.”
Nick set down his pizza and his expression grew serious. “I’m just tryin’ to figure you out, O’Connor.”
“Got anywhere yet?” he asked, forcing his tone to stay light in comparison.
“Maybe,” Nick said.
“So what you’re telling me is you come here, eat pizza, play some games, and try to win this popcorn machine?” Nick gestured at the displayed full-size popcorn cart that had a big, red sign that proclaimed it could be won for 100,000 tickets.
“That’s right,” Colin said, refusing to feel an ounce of shame. Nick had claimed, in good faith, to want to know the real him. This was a big part of who Colin O’Connor was.
Nick stared at the popcorn machine, then looked over at Colin with the dopiest expression on his face. “That’s the fucking cutest thing I’ve ever heard. You know, you could buy about a hundred of those, easily.”
“Probably about a thousand. Or more,” Colin admitted. “But that’s not the point. The point is to win 100,000 tickets.”
“How many do you have so far?”
Colin thought of the tickets he had piled in a plastic storage bin in his hall closet. Did a quick calculation. “Probably about 40,000.”
Nick shot him a challenging look. “Then we have some ground to make up. You got some quarters?”
Shoving his hand in his pocket, Colin brought out four rolls of quarters. “Stopped by the bank today just for this,” he said, handing two of them to Nick. “I’ve got more in the car.”
“Of course you do,” Nick said with an eyeroll as punctuation, but his voice was very fond.
It probably would have made the most practical, logical sense to split up. But Colin had no intention of not following through on his plans to show Nick how much he liked him. So he trailed behind him, suggesting the best pinball machines and being supportive when Nick proceeded to lose painfully at Space Invaders.
“I used to be better at this,” Nick said ruefully. “I held the high score at my local arcade for almost six months.”
“Wow, six months, really?”
Nick smacked Colin’s arm. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”
Colin smirked. “Yo
u seem to think I’m pretty amusing.”
Nick rolled his eyes, but his eyes were glowing with affection as they headed to the Gauntlet console. “As long as you let me be the Sorceress, you’re the funniest guy on earth.”
“Done,” Colin said, and let his hand drift down from Nick’s shoulder to the curve of his waist. He’d used every opportunity he could to touch Nick casually, and Nick had not only seemed to like it, he’d done it back, until Colin was about to go out of his skin.
When they got into the car, a few thousand tickets richer, Colin felt his nerves wrenching even tighter with anticipation. He just hoped that it wasn’t only him, and that Nick, too, had felt the heat growing between them, each casual brush of their hands, every lingering touch, raising the temperature a few degrees.
For someone who used words for a living, Nick seemed to go quiet when these moments came, and they drove home in almost total silence. Colin had to force himself not to fill the unnerving quiet with stupid babbling chatter. He wasn’t about to risk how well this evening had gone by putting his foot in his mouth at the very last moment.
Still, he felt his palms begin to sweat as he pulled into the driveway. They’d made it home, to the island where only they would know what happened between them.
Colin took a short, unsteady breath and opened the car door to get out. Nick had already made it to the front steps. He paused at the top of them, waiting for Colin to come unlock the door.
It felt like a thousand first dates that Colin had never been on. He’d never been able to climb the steps to a house, his heart thumping wildly, desire and fear warring inside of his stomach. Maybe this was the chance to set all those should’ves to rest.
Nick turned towards him as he approached the top of the steps. “I had a really nice time,” he said, and then flushed bright red, like he’d just realized what he’d said.
Colin, who was renowned for making the most of every opportunity that came his way, grabbed on to this one with both hands. He sidled a little closer, letting his keys jangle in his hands. If they’d been a teenage boy and a teenage girl, this would have been every cliché mid-1990s teen romantic comedy.