by Leigh Lennon
“Crush,” I say just loud enough over all the f-bombs in the film, “you okay?” My words cause him to freeze.
“Yeah, pretty boy.” But with the tightness in his jaw, I want to call bullshit on his answer. I push up, moving to the front of the couch to look straight at him.
“I sort of think you’re not.” I lower my voice at the end, and this catches his attention.
He moves his gaze to me, finally. “Um, no, I’m good, seriously.”
Lord knows I’ve loved him longer than I care to admit, and where I thought the time and distance would extinguish these emotions, it’s only intensified them. “Christopher, there’s no reason to be nervous. And if I were to wager a guess, I’d say that’s what you are with me in the present.”
He pushes off the couch, standing in front of my body, just a couple of inches taller than my six-foot-two frame. “Nah, pretty boy, I just have a lot on my mind. Sorry I’ve been a stick in the mud.” I think he’s going to excuse himself for the night, but he continues to stand in front of me, less than six inches from my lips.
We stay in this position for thirty seconds, and I swear he’s looking at my mouth. Am I this infatuated with him that I’ve concocted this near fantasy?
“Crush, buddy, what are we doing, standing like this?”
My words break his stare on my lips, and he twists around, then grabs his shoes and his keys. He doesn’t take the time to slip them on, and at the door, he simply says, “I better get home. I’ll chat with you later, okay?”
I can’t get much else out when I nod, mumbling, “Sure, see you later.” And when he shuts the door, I continue to war with myself. Am I reading way too much into this just because my body wants him? Am I wrong? Could Christopher Colton want me, too?
10
Crush
The sun hasn’t risen when I wake to the inner struggles that aren’t allowing me to sleep. These inner struggles are about Ryder and what his gaze does to my body. This isn’t new. I had to admit that when he left, there had been unresolved feelings. Had I wanted to go down this route just months before the draft? Had I wanted to take that chance on my future? I’ve always felt fluid with my sexuality, I’ve not been with a guy, but the kiss years ago, I swear I can still sense the stroke of his tongue with mine.
Now, six years later, everything has changed. I’ve proved my value to my game and my team. Ryder has paved a path for others in sports coming out after him. And everything he’s done is done with the most grace. Just the idea of him wakes my entire body.
I glance at my phone and see it’s not quite five a.m. yet. I won’t continue to lie here, only to dream of the future that I could have with Ryder. The media has been hard on him, but there has been an outpouring of support coming out of the closet in such a manly world we play in.
Could I do this? Let the world see my true feelings for a man I think I’ve always loved? The better question is—would it affect my time with Brooklyn? I know the answer to this already. It wouldn’t be the fact that I’d admit to my sexuality, but for the love I’ve always held for Ryder. Alison hates him more than anyone in this world. Maybe she sensed it, and it continued to fuel the fire between my ex and best friend.
I know I need to work off some of this steam, and being the weekend doesn’t mean we stop training. Our coach wants our body to rest one day per week but leaves it up to us as to how we’ll train on the other one.
There’s no use in showering just to sweat by myself in the weight room. I dress in a pair of athletic shorts I had washed yesterday and a team T-shirt. I throw a change of shorts, boxers, and a shirt in another duffel bag of mine since I left my favorite one at Ry’s last night in my mad dash to get away from him.
My hope is to swing by and take Brooklyn to a late breakfast or early lunch.
This is the distraction I need from Ryder as I wonder about the relationship between James and Alison. He seems like an everyday sort of guy. And since I already know Al is the devil incarnate, I’m left to guess if this gets serious, she’d most likely marry again. The extravagant amount of alimony I pay would end, and she may have to work for a living if that were the case. Maybe James is rich, and the problem won’t be mine anymore. But fuck, Alison’s happiness is directly linked to Brooklyn’s, so in turn, it does make it my concern. I’ll never rid myself of the snake.
But as I’ve thought of Alison, even as unpleasant as she is, it helps me forget about Ry for at least five minutes. Here I go again, thinking of the one person besides my daughter who brings me joy in this world.
I’m three sets into my weight training when the door to the locker room opens, and Brooks and Dunn are silenced. I’m about to string this someone up by his balls when the familiar face of the man who invades my thoughts pops his head over the weight bench.
“I should have known it was you, pretty boy. You grew up outside of Nashville, yet you still listen to garbage.”
His chuckle begins deep in his chest, but as it escapes, my gym shorts are doing nothing for how he turns me on.
“Garbage? Really? Dogs, tractors, and whiskey. That’s what you choose to listen to, big country.”
He helps me rack the free bench weights as I sit up about to show him who is big. But I move the opposite direction so he doesn’t see how his words have caused a certain part of me to grow.
“I thought I’d be the only one here,” he continues, moving to the treadmill. “And honestly, I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me after you hightailed it out of my house like a tiger was after you.”
I’m not ready to admit what I want, not here and certainly not at the training facility. “I was just tired. It had hit me quick.”
He steps off his treadmill as though he’ll challenge me, but then he turns back around, popping in his AirPods and setting his phone to something. He’s going to block out the world while he trains. It’s a good idea, and I make it back to the sound system to adjust the volume. I begin singing along to old-school country songs by the Nitty Gritty Dirt band, all the while our eyes meet every once in a while.
He smiles at me, and at times, when I twist my head to his, I swear he’s checking out my ass. Does Ry still have feelings for me? Could it be this simple? Could I really justify possibly losing Brooklyn over falling deep for Ry? With all these questions swirling around in my mind, I know the answers. And am I using Brooklyn as a crutch? In this day and age, I can’t see Alison able to remove my paternal rights because of my sexuality. But then again, Alison is the devil’s bitch, so there’s that.
I’m laughing quietly to myself over all the different derogatory names I hold for my ex-wife when out of the corner of my eye, I sense his eyes on me. Swinging my sight to him, he’s giving me a goofy-ass grin. “What has you laughing by yourself over there?” Ry asks.
He’s back to talking to me. I deserve his silent treatment because I was a pussy bitch last night. “You’ll think it’s silly,” I reply.
“I highly doubt that, big country. Hit me, I need a laugh, too.”
“I was just thinking of the many ways I can call Alison Satan.”
He doubles over. “Oh, with my help, I’m sure we can come up with a couple of thousand.”
The air is light between us again, and it’s where I want it to stay.
It’s one p.m. by the time I’ve showered and changed. Hearing back from Alison, she’s in some need of alone time and has granted me access to Brooklyn. “Hey, Ry?” I call for him loud enough that he can hear me in the showers.
He’d specifically waited for me to shower first before he had. Even with the private stalls, he thought it wise to wait. He comes out, wrapped in a towel, just enough for him to hear me.
“Yeah?”
“I’m taking Brooklyn out for a late lunch. Care to join us?”
He scrubs his hand over his face. I didn’t think it would be a hard sell, not after all the tension was alleviated earlier. “I don’t want to cause problems between Al and you.”
I forgot I’d told
him about Al’s reaction to him. “I don’t give a fuck about Alison. She brought a man over unannounced. Plus, I’m not sleeping with you, so I’m technically not going against our rules.”
I didn’t think there’s much I can say to Ry to cause him to flush, but he does with my sentence and instantly hides the lower part of his body, farther around the corner.
“I guess if you say so. I’m game to hang out with your sassy princess today.”
“Ah, sassy princess, it’s certainly a name befitting of her,” I reply.
“Yeah, text me the address, and I’ll meet you there.”
And it’s then I know exactly what I want to do with my best friend and daughter this afternoon.
When we pull up to my house, Brooklyn is all squeals when she notices Ry leaning up against his flashy Lamborghini. It goes with all his fucking loud paisley suits.
“Mista Ryda here, Pops.”
Part of me wants to tell her not to share this with her mother, but I’ll never foster this sort of deception into my child. I’m positive it’ll come naturally without me showing her it’s okay to lie.
“I know, I thought we’d go swimming today and order some pizza? How would you like that?”
“I like Mista Ryda. He nice to you. I like peepa nice to you.”
Is this a little hint that she witnesses how her mother treats me? I won’t touch this because, at the end of the day, Alison is her mother.
“Yeah, I like it when people are nice to me, too.” I hop out of the truck just in time for Ry to have opened the back door. Brooklyn jumps at him, and he catches her in his large arms. “You better catch my balls like that, too, pretty boy.”
It doesn’t dawn on me what I’ve said until he begins choking. “Pops, Ryda choke, you gotta hit him on his back.”
He waves me off from slugging him on the back with a small chuckle. “I’m fine. Just something your daddy said was funny, that’s all.”
I give him a little side shrug, pleading with my brain to say something else, anything. “She’s sure taken with you, Ry. After just two days, she may like you almost as much as me.”
“What can I say? I’m lovable.”
He sure as fuck is. This is a fact, but I can’t verbally agree with him. Not yet.
Ry is still at my home when I return from dropping Brooklyn off at her mother’s just in time for bed. I’d asked him to hang out a little bit longer, but I wasn’t sure why I wanted him near me. Oh, yeah, I realize how he unnerves me, but I’m a better man when I’m with him.
He’s lying on the couch with a book in his hands, reading. I’ve known this man a long fucking time, and sure, I’ve missed six years of his life, but I’ve never seen him read for fun.
“Have you taken up a new hobby, pretty boy?”
He holds the book in my line of sight, and as I approach, I realize what he’s got his hands on. I thought I’d put it behind lock and key for the sake of Brooklyn. And at my horror, I realize I’d shelved it, one night, up high on my built-in bookshelves and had a picture of my brother with his daughters in front of it to hide the spine of the book.
“I wasn’t trying to snoop, I swear.” A rather indignant smile spreads across his face. “I was grabbing the picture of Sawyer and his girls. I wanted to get a better look, and low and behold, this is what I found—everything on the Kama Sutra.”
He flips through it, only to begin laughing, stopping to look up at me. “This is my favorite and something I can certainly benefit from.” He stops talking, moving his gaze to me as what he’ll probably misunderstand as embarrassment, but it’s heat flashing onto my cheeks. I’m not embarrassed, not in the least. I’m turned the fuck on.
“So how did you come across a Kama Sutra book like this?” Ry asks and waves it in the air to remind me of it.
“The guys bought it for me as sort of a gag gift when my divorce was final with Alison.”
I’m still looking at the cover and wonder what else Ry will do with the book.
He clears his voice. “Chapter three. The orgasm.” He chuckles. “This will be interesting—male orgasm basics and ejaculations. Well, well, maybe I can learn something new.”
I’m still standing in the middle of the room as he’s taken over the long part of my sectional. “Ah, part two of this chapter—the G-spot and the clitoris. I think I can just skip over this. But I’ll dog-ear the section for you if you need some new material.”
This man is being an adorable asshole right now, and funny to boot, so I take my seat on the other side of the sectional where he can see me. “No, I think my moves in the bedroom are just fine. But maybe I should mark some sections for you, pretty boy.”
“I don’t have any complaints from others. But here’s one I find interesting. Chapter four—let’s be vocal in the bedroom. Let’s see—you don’t always have to ruin the mood with normal everyday chitchat in bed. By being vocal, you're showing your partner that he’s doing what you want, and it makes him understand what turns you on.”
“Yeah, again, not a problem for me, pretty boy. I think I know my way around a woman’s body.” But do I? It hadn’t appealed to me, and the last time I looked at some porn to get off, it wasn’t a male/female that sealed the deal for me.
“Okay, good to know. Moving on. Ah, this is interesting. Telling your partner to fuck you is a turn-on.”
I sit up, ready to call bullshit on this. “It doesn’t say that verbatim, does it?”
He winks at me, and fuck, do I want to hold onto his image and tuck it away in my heart.
“Nah, not verbatim. I’m paraphrasing. And my version is always better.” He sits up a little, crossing his leg over his other knee, and I can see into his athletic shorts, spying his boxers. “Okay, chapter seven is sure something many probably want to know more about. Sex toys and their real pleasure.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you could write an entire chapter just from your own supply alone,” I quip.
He gives me a curt nod. “Yeah, big country, I most definitely could do that.” He continues to thumb through the book, reading bits and pieces, and his words cause me to grab a pillow to hide my happiness at this turn of events.
“Oh, I find this interesting, and it’s something I’ve always known.”
He’s holding back his grin as though it’ll turn into hysterics at any second. “Oh, yeah?” I ask. “What is that?”
“Size does matter.”
This causes him to almost fall from the couch, and I match his laughter. “Okay, Mr. Kama Sutra Scholar, give me the book. Apparently, I can’t trust it in your hands.” I cross to the side of the couch where he still lounges to snatch the book from him, and as I do, he pulls me down to sit so close that our thighs touch.
“Ah, but let me tell you, my hands can handle anything, and I mean anything.”
“I’m sure they can.” I’m quiet in my reply, and the book is no longer an issue. As a matter of fact, it’s the only thing linking our fingers together.
He reaches over to cup my chin with his spare hand, but just as he’s about to make contact with my five o’clock shadow, he pulls his hand away.
“Christopher, I’m not sure what you think you’re doing, but I only have so much restraint.”
I’m silenced by my ring tone, “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” and know it’s Alison on the other end. “Fuck,” I murmur under my breath. “Ry, give me a second. If I don’t answer this, she’ll show up on my doorstep.” I take the phone and immediately head to the backyard in order to tell Alison to go get fucked in private. “Al, hold on, give me a second.”
Her voice is screaming in the background when I mute it. “Ry, did you hear me? Give me a second. I’ll be right back.”
He’s staring straight ahead, and I can’t mute Alison much longer. Moving to the large outside furniture I have in front of the pool, I unmute her, ready for the tongue lashing I know is coming. It’s been a half-hour since I showed up at her house with a fed, bathed, and tired little girl. I’m surprised it’s
taken this long.
“What the fuck, Christopher? I told you in no uncertain terms that I didn’t want Brooklyn around Ryder Hanley.”
“Yeah, says the woman who showed up at my house yesterday morning with your new man. Going against the rules we agreed to. And let’s not forget, you left town with Brooklyn last weekend without giving me a heads-up. You’re all about enforcing the rules and not following them. And Ryder isn’t some predator off the street. You may not like him, but fuck, you know he’s not going to harm Brooklyn.”
“Yeah, I guess he’d have to be into girls to be a threat.”
She didn’t just say what I think she said, did she? “That’s the most hateful thing you’ve ever said in the history of us, and let me be clear, you’ve said some hateful and fucked-up shit, Al. So, get off your high horse. My best friend is back in my life, and it’s where he’ll stay. And Brooklyn will get to know him.” I hang up the phone before I unleash holy hell on her.
I take a minute to myself in order to calm every bit of nerves Alison has undone in our two-minute conversation. Pushing to my feet, I stretch, giving me a second longer before I tackle what almost happened with Ry seconds ago.
“Sorry about that, Ry,” I call out, but I don’t see him on the couch. And his bag and keys are no longer on the table where he’d left them.
Moving quickly to my door, I see the taillights of Ry’s Lamborghini as it slows at the stop sign. Maybe it’s best for us to just forget what almost happened between us. But do I want to forget?
11