“Ha,” I said. “Nah. I don’t think anyone would buy it from me now.”
Simeon whistled. “Damn. It’s like that?”
“Yeah. It is.” I bumped my hips up. “And you better get ready, because I’m going to fuck you through this storm.”
He laughed again, eyes twinkling. “Then you better make good use of tonight, Bravo. The clouds will be gone by tomorrow.”
I smacked his ass lightly. “Don’t worry. I will.”
Chapter Fourteen
Simeon
“It’s cold as hell outside.”
Adrián snorted, but he’d gone running in just as many layers as me. You weren’t about to catch either of us wearing running shorts and a sleeveless shirt like some of the other regular joggers in the area. It’d already been getting chilly, but the storm had dropped the temperature a good ten degrees colder.
But if the options were a brisk wind or a flooded city? I’d take the cold.
“You’ve been an East Coaster for how many years?”
“Anything less than a decade doesn’t count. I’m not set up for this kind of icy-ass cold.”
Adrián waved me off while pushing the buttons on his espresso maker. I wasn’t a fan. Give me a Café au lait over a couple ounces of super strong tar any day.
“You ready to see this kid?”
“I’m ready to see all the kids,” I said. “I honestly didn’t expect to have started enjoying this program so damn much, but I do. I’ll miss them. Even the jack wagons like Brayden.”
“Jack wagons,” Adrián repeated with a chuckle. “You stay talking like someone’s grandfather.”
I ripped off my hat and tossed it at him, rolling my eyes when he did an exaggerated dodge and roll to get out of the way. He was going to end up destroying shit in his own house trying to be a clown.
“Probably because I was always surrounded by other people’s grandparents in church.”
“I didn’t take you for a church boy.”
“Then you’re a fool. Religion was a huge part of my childhood. Just ’cause I’m gay doesn’t mean I can’t have respect for the Book.”
Adrián swiped my hat from the floor and put it on the table. He propped his forearms on the counter and watched me suck down an extra-large cup of coffee.
“My parents were Catholic as fuck, but they never took my ass to church. I used to actually feel left out since all my friends went on Sunday, but then I got older and realized I was getting over. My life was so much cooler.”
“And then you hit puberty and realized how uncool you were.”
He flipped me off. “You wasn’t saying that shit last night when I was balls deep in you while doing the old fleshlight wraparound.”
Mention of the previous night was enough to get my body ready for another round. Unfortunately, we’d both agreed to call a time-out on sex. The more we fucked, the harder it was to keep our hands off each other, and keeping that chemistry and attraction hidden from the kids and the staff at the Center was important. We’d been screwing constantly for the two days after the storm, and now it was time to get back to the real world. The power had come back on in the middle of the night, although we’d left our long-dead cell phones uncharged all morning, and our coaching gig was calling. We had to wake up from the fever dream, even if only ten hours ago I’d ejaculated so hard my knees had given out.
“You’re looking at me like you want to get it in before we head out.”
I forced my eyes away from him, scoffing. “No.”
“Uh-huh.” In my peripheral vision, he was smirking. “You’re so hot for me.”
“Shut it, Bravo. We have plenty of time to ravage each other before we put the brakes on our filth fests.”
“Mmm. ‘Filth fest.’ I like the sound of that.” Adrián came around the corner to bury his face in my sweaty neck. “You smell good.”
“Fuck off, Bravo. You’re trying to make me break my promise.”
“That’s because it’s a dumbass promise that you made to yourself. Self-made promises are made to be broken.”
“Breaking self-made promises is the entire reason we’re fucking,” I said, laughing.
“See? There you go. Your life is way better as a result.”
I shook my head. “You’re wrong on just about every point. Now get up off me so I can go wash up.”
Adrián let me push him to the side, once again flinging himself dramatically. The guy was the biggest joker I’d ever met, and that was saying something, since I usually joked a lot. He swatted my ass as I jogged up to the master bathroom to shower. I wasn’t surprised when he joined me and coaxed me into a sloppy make-out session and mutual jerk while the water beat down on us from three sides.
As we walked from his building to the Center, I kept thinking this was going to be the best three weeks of my life. Okay, maybe not my life. But of my post-NFL signing adulthood. I’d had sex with a ton of guys since my teenage years, but none of them had had this effect on me. Not even Gavin or Marcus, or my lingering worries about how I was gonna deal with things once we went back to our teams, could bring me down.
If I wanted to close my eyes to complications and walk on sunshine for the next month or so, then that was my problem. And I was going to have a fuckton of sex in the process.
The number of looks we exchanged, and the times we deliberately bumped each other, on the way to the Center, was probably in the thousands. We had to be stopped. Even the mailperson could probably tell we were banging.
“All right. Be cool and—”
The fast-falling footsteps coming up beside us drew my attention first. I jerked to the side, startled, and lowered my face out of reflex. The photog kept snapping pictures of me, and then both of us, without missing a beat.
“Damn, man, you can’t let us get inside the building?”
The photographer didn’t respond. He apparently was all business—so not a pap. Not TMZ. He took several more pictures and returned to where ever he’d come from.
“That was random. They haven’t been that on it in a while.”
“Uh, yeah, apparently they all got the fucking memo to be on it.”
I stopped looking after the skinny-looking ferret dude to glance in the direction of the Center. There was a circus waiting for us by the door.
Adrián
They knew.
Everyone knew.
And I knew as soon as I saw the gang of photogs and journalists from gossip blogs waiting by the Center. They’d shown up here and there over the past several weeks, but usually when there was a specific reason for them to be clustered. Like our first few days, or a scrimmage. The only reason they’d be here right now was if they knew about us.
“Fuck.” My heart had stopped but now it galloped ahead of us. “Oh my God.”
Simeon dropped a large hand on my shoulder and steered me forward.
“Adrián! Tell us how it happened! Couldn’t resist the Boudreaux charm?”
“Bravo, are you gay or bi?”
“Do you think your team will accept you back into the locker room?”
“Was the fight just a way to throw everyone off your relation—”
The shouted questions were muffled by the door once Simeon shoved me inside the Center and kicked it shut. His hand was still on my shoulder, and it was the only thing bringing me comfort. Strong, reassuring, and warm. Just like him and every moment we’d shared since the night of the storm.
“Fuck.”
“Adrián, hush.”
I blinked away the camera flashes and looked around slowly, refamiliarizing myself with the inside of the Center. It’d already been unpacked and put back to rights since reopening this morning. I tried to think about that, and how shitty we were for banging our way through this process instead of offering a hand, but the questions rang in my ear again.
“They know.”
“Adrián, I said to shut up.”
Simeon wrenched me around, forcing me to face the entrance to the rec room. Brayden was framed in the doorway, his face in his hands and shoulders shaking as Sheila consoled him. It was all the confirmation I needed that yes, he’d seen us. And yes, he’d done something to expose us to the world.
The previous night, I’d woken up off and on while wondering whether he’d spend this afternoon dropping innuendos or teasing us. I’d expected to be angry, but right now I felt nothing but resignation and fear. Genuine fucking fear.
Because my team was going to make my life a living hell.
“Brayden,” Simeon said quietly. “Are you okay?”
A louder sob ripped out of the kid at the sound of Simeon’s voice. Sheila pulled him closer, rubbing his back and glancing over at us with a frown etched into her lovely face.
“I’m sorry,” he wailed. “I didn’t think this would happen!”
Simeon moved towards him, but I was rooted to the spot. Torn between this brokenhearted kid whose body was literally shaking due to the strength of his sobs and the sound of hostile and hideously amused questions being shouted at my back.
“What happened?” Simeon asked, hovering by Brayden’s side. “What did you—what do you think you did?”
Brayden buried his face in Sheila’s hair, still crying, and shoved his phone in Simeon’s general direction. My heart sank as soon as Simeon cringed. He looked up at me, hazel eyes big and worried, and held the phone out to me.
The original Snapchat image wasn’t on the screen, but a screenshot was embedded in the middle of an article of a popular gossip column the night before. The image was of me and Simeon embracing outside the diner, although you couldn’t see either of our faces. The caption read: My two coaches making out in public. I guess the NFL is more gay and bi friendly than we thought?
I tried to skim the article, which appeared to be a grown-ass adult attempting to analyze everything from our height to our sneakers in order to prove it was us, but my eyes were stuck on the picture. We looked so comfortable with each other. Frankly, we looked fucking in love. If this was a picture of a man and a woman holding each other in the middle of a rainstorm, it would have been a New York One Picture of the Day. Because it was two men, it was call for a full-on investigation and smear campaign.
Fuck them. Fuck all of them. No matter what they said, or how they used it, that picture was beautiful. Even if it got me dragged through the mud by my own team, the media, and my parents. My defiance reared up hot and angry, but the idea of entering the Predators’ locker room once again set my nausea rising.
“Brayden . . .” Simeon softened his tone and his accent, slowing things down from the usual flurry of words. “Did you know what would happen?”
“No!” Brayden finally ripped away from Sheila to face us. His face was swollen and puffy, and his usual meticulous clothing was rumpled. “I don’t even have that many friends on Snapchat! It was stupid, and I was mad, but I didn’t actually think . . . Like, I thought it’d just be us at the Center who would see it.” Another wave of sobs overtook him. “The kids here are the only friends I had, and now they won’t even look at me!”
It was time for me to throw in some comforting words, but I was frozen. I couldn’t think of a single goddamn thing to say. Simeon nodded slowly, but even he seemed to be at a loss for words. He kept looking down at the phone then over at me. His mouth set in a single grim stripe.
“What were you angry about?” Sheila asked, breaking the silence. “They’ve been so good with you. If it weren’t for Coach Bravo and Boudreaux, you would still be hiding in your shell.”
“Yeah, but also if they’d never told my dad that I snuck out and met my mom sometimes, he wouldn’t be threatening to take her back to court.” Brayden hiccupped and ripped an arm across his eyes. “My mom and dad hate each other so much and tried to do and say everything they could to hurt each other during the divorce. And it makes no sense because they cheated on each other. But she’s not supposed to come around when I’m with him, but . . .”
“You don’t have to explain anymore,” Simeon said. “I understand. And we tried to stay out of your family’s business, but when we saw you and your mom at the pier during the storm, we were worried. That you were going to get hurt, but also that you were spending time with an older adult we’d never seen before.”
Sheila nodded beside Brayden. “I would have reacted the same. Especially during such a bad storm. She shouldn’t have even had you on that pier.”
“That’s only because—”
“You don’t have to defend your mother to us, Brayden,” Simeon said. “But what would be nice is if you explained that you’re now fully aware that outing someone against their will is dangerous. And wrong.”
Brayden burst into an explanation, but my mind wandered away. Back to the ensuing conversation with my father, and to the moment in a few weeks when I’d have to face my team. Maybe I should make a statement, I thought dimly. Officially come out as bisexual now that the truth was out. Be an adult and handle this head-on instead of burying my head in the sand for weeks.
Accept the shit storm and do my best to bear the brunt of it before my next game. Everyone would be watching me now. And everyone would be waiting for me to fail.
“Let me talk to Coach Bravo alone,” Simeon said. “Why don’t you go sit with Ms. Sheila in the office, Bray?”
Brayden nodded, still not looking at me, and trailed behind her like a puppy.
“Don’t be angry with him.” Simeon put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my face. “He’s a kid with a pair of parents who are doing their best to put him in the middle of their drama, and he took matters into his own hands in the only way he could. It’s shitty, but . . . I get it.”
“I’m not angry. I’m not anything.”
Simeon took a deep breath. “Adrián, you’re freaking me out.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re not reacting.”
I glanced towards the window again. How many were out there now? Had any left or would they camp there all day?
“We should call Casey and Mel. I bet they’ve been trying to talk to us all night,” I mumbled. “Or maybe not. Maybe they just saw it and found out just like we did.”
“Adrián, stop worrying about our agents for a minute and look at me.”
He looked so fearful—for me. He’d already experienced this nightmare. This sense of helplessness and terror that everything he’d worked to build for the past nearly fifteen years, from the moment we’d started playing competitive football, had been for nothing. The contracts, the comradery, the fanbase and the brand we’d both worked to build—ruined by something neither of us could control. Wanting each other. Maybe even . . . more.
My chest clenched. God, there was definitely so much more between us, and I wasn’t even being given the chance to explore it. To figure out whether we would have continued discreetly sleeping together, or seeing each other, after we got back on the field. Maybe even after the season.
“I’ll fix this.”
I blinked. “What?”
Simeon forced a smile, but it was too big. Too manic. His eyes were a little too wide. “Boo, this is easy stuff. Your face isn’t in the picture. I can squash these rumors with a few words.”
My brow puckered. “Wait, what? Why?”
“Because you’re not ready for this,” he said bluntly. “I can see it in your face. It’s a mistake—”
“Me kissing you wasn’t a mistake. You were upset and I wanted you to feel better.”
The strain in Simeon’s expression intensified. He took a deep breath.
“Adrián, please. Just let me fix this. I don’t want you to go through what I went through for the past few months. Not when you just figured out who you are a few da
ys ago.” His hands squeezed me gently. “And not when I know who you’re going back to in the next few weeks. There’s no way Rocky will let this slide.”
“Fuck Rocky,” I said harshly. “He’s nothing to me. But you—”
Simeon covered my mouth with his hand and closed his eyes very briefly. “Please just let me fix this, Adrián. We can figure out the rest later.”
Could I do it, though? Was I enough of a coward to let him go out there and lie?
“Please don’t expose what we have to those vultures before we can figure it out for ourselves,” he pleaded. “They’ll ruin it.”
And just like that, I caved. “Okay,” I croaked.
Simeon inclined his head in a sharp nod. He smiled bravely. “I got this, baby. But you’ll have to keep an open mind.”
I didn’t know what he meant, and at the moment I couldn’t process it. With every step he took towards the door, I felt farther away from him, and I panicked. My vision went funny, darkening at the sides, and my knees weakened. What was wrong with me? I’d played football in full pads on the field in over a hundred-degree heat. Why couldn’t I withstand this?
My eyes followed Simeon as he headed for the door, and I forced my feet to do the same. He held out a single hand to thwart me from going outside, but I pressed my ear to the door once he was on the other side.
“Well, good morning to y’all too.”
A cacophony of shouts answered his greeting, a jumble of questions about me, him, us, and how long we’d been keeping our relationship a secret. Simeon answered them all with a single booming laugh—a laugh he was famous for, and which quieted them all with the mere power of his charm.
“Come on, now, y’all,” he said in his usual jolly manner. “I woulda shut this foolishness down days ago if my phone hadn’t been dead and electricity out, but you gotta know better than this. A kid tweets because I got him in trouble with his parent, and y’all jump on the first crumb of gossip like some hungry-ass pigeons.”
“So you’re saying it’s not true?” someone shouted. “It sure looked like you two!”
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