Thankfully, Simon had let him off rather easy the next morning and kept his mouth shut, opting to give Ian knowing glances while gesturing back toward Carson with his chin. It was so immature and so completely Simon that it hurt. But Ian refused to give in. He wasn’t going to let Simon or his imagination get the best of him, and he certainly wasn’t going to make an ass of himself in front of Carson, not with only one friendly game to go before the championship.
“…which is why we need to be wary of—”
“Uh-huh, yeah. Totally. Sounds terrific.” Ian said automatically, giving a nod of enthusiasm which he hoped sounded convincing enough. He realized a moment too late that he sounded like a complete tool.
Perry stared at him, his dark gaze cutting him down and making him feel about two inches tall. Ian swallowed, meeting the captain’s steely look glare with one of his own. It only lasted a moment before Ian backed down, gesturing politely for Perry to continue.
“Another thing we ought to consider which can undermine the passing rhythm…”
And that’s how it was. A normal, quiet, ordinary morning.Until they reached the training facility and the coach announced that their training session would commence after a round of team-building activities. If they’d felt comfortable enough, several of the men would have groaned or shook their heads. Instead, they all eagerly nodded and did as they were instructed, dividing themselves up into smaller groups for the exercises.
“No, no!” he chided. “If I wanted you to waste this time chatting with your friends, we wouldn’t have to do this. I want you in pairs. Pairs!” His frown was intense, imposing, and he looked around the group one by one, finally singling out Carson.
The coach grinned and gestured for him to step forward. Carson’s face went slightly pale, but he immediately obeyed. “You, Carson. You will work with…” Coach Emerson paused, looking over his shoulder, “… Tyrone. Garry, you will work with Cassius. Harris will work with Prince. Do you see what I am doing? I’m splitting up your little clics. I don’t care about who’s your best friend or your little buddy. We care about the team. Now, the rest of you sort yourselves out. Quickly! Move it! Now.”
Coach Emerson clapped his hands and stepped to the side to confer with one of the staff members while the men all exchanged glances and started dividing themselves up again. Some naturally gravitated toward one another and found the task easy. Others…well…
“This is so stupid!” Simon muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Ian to catch it. “Why did he have to assign Fabian’s partner? I could have been Fabian’s partner.”
“Relax,” Ian shushed him, though he was thinking the very same thing about Carson. His consolation prize came from pairing up with Perry, who would hopefully be willing to discuss something besides his woes. “Look, Sam still needs a partner.”
Simon held his tongue, but Ian knew he was still fuming as he trudged over to Sam, who hadn't moved from his spot next to Drew. “Sam, you’re with me.”
Drew gave Simon a look, then trotted off, leaving Sam behind. He had something important to do anyway. As Sam greeted Simon, Drew expertly cut Winston off before he could approach Adrian, grinning wickedly at Adrian, “Adrian. You’re with me.”
Adrian blinked, looking down his nose at him, his face a perfectly concocted mix of trepidation and false bravado. He hadn’t expected this turn of events, but would do his damnedest not to let on just how spooked he was. “All right. Super.”
Drew gave him a wicked smirk and from across the room Cassius suddenly felt a pang of terror. Sam stood in silent observation; Simon fumed. Fabian smiled wistfully; Ian remained calm. And from his place beside Tyrone, Carson admired Ian and sighed the dreamiest of sighs.
Winston frowned then, being the only one left without a partner. He looked rather helpless for a moment before silently angling his way in with Ian and Perry to form a group of three. Emerson gave a nod of approval and instructed the men to begin their team bonding experience with a simple warm-up exercise.
“I want you to face one another, take each other by the hand, and maintain eye contact for at least sixty seconds. Whichever of you pairs can keep it up the longest will win.”
Clearly the order was to be taken seriously, but that didn’t mean all of the participants were comfortable with the situation. Carson was perhaps the most at ease with their task, taking hold of both of Tyrone’s hands even before Emerson could glance at his watch. He started them off and there was a rising hum of chatter which filled the room.
Sam reached out for Simon and Simon eyed him with a certain level of disinterest. He didn't mean to be rude he was only preoccupied by more pressing matters. He was competitive and he wanted to win the staring contest, no matter how stupid it was, but his attention was quickly diverted when he heard Fabian’s laughter high above the din. He turned away from Sam, ignoring his protests, only to see Fabian smiling at Matt, happy and charming as always. Simon fumed and turned back to start over with Sam.
Winston, Perry, and Ian formed a strange triangle, unable to fully complete the task as instructed but determined to follow through nonetheless. Cassius smiled helplessly at Garry, hoping to get that minute over with as quickly as possible so that he could look over at Adrian and Drew, who were staring each other down like gunfighters in a western. They were past the point of ridicule, eyes locked and narrowed, hands entwined. They were in the far corner, had having somehow found that spot for themselves, still part of the group but removed enough that they could talk without anyone hearing every word of their conversation. Drew was crafty like that. He knew what he was doing.
“Has anyone ever said you have kind eyes?” He asked, running his tongue over his incisor facetiously.
“Someone told me that once, yeah,” Adrian said, hoping he sounded unfazed. Internally he was screaming for help. Whatever Drew had up his sleeve, he definitely didn't like it. He wasn't about to back down, though. Not even a little.
“They remind me of something. I’m just not sure what it is.”
“I don’t know. I can’t help you out here.”
“It’s an animal, I think. Yes, definitely possibly an animal. What kind of animal would you say you are, Adrian?”
Adrian breathed in quickly, resisting the urge to look around. “I…what?”
“Because I was going to say a cow. Your eyes remind me of a cow’s eyes. Yes, you remind me of a cow.”
“A cow? Are you out of your mind? I’m not like cow. I’m nothing like a cow.” Adrian looked offended.
That was the exact reaction Drew was looking for. He raised his eyebrows, maintaining full eye contact as he pressed on. “So, what are you, Adrian? A cat? A mouse? A wolf in sheep’s clothing? A snake?”
“Oh hardly!” He gave a sharp laugh. “What gives, man? Why are you trying to divine my spirit animal?”
“Just answer the question.” Drew said, with all the inflection of a DMV employee two minutes before closing time on a Friday.
Adrian pursed his lips, wanting so desperately to look behind him, look away, look anywhere but straight ahead into Drew’s eyes. But he had to, he couldn’t look away, hypnotized by the blackness there, competitive streak pushing him onward. Adrian gulped, scrunched his nose a little, then said softly, “I dunno, maybe like a gryphon or something.”
Silence. Total silence was the reply. Followed seconds later by a guffaw loud enough to dominate the room. With but two exceptions, all of the occupants turned to stare at the pair of them—thus disqualifying themselves—and Adrian’s expression wasn’t so much mortified as it was out of sorts.
“What?” He demanded, lips curled into a frown. “What’s wrong with that?”
“You can’t pick a gryphon. Gryphons aren’t real.”
“You didn’t say it had to be a real animal.”
“That’s because I assumed you’d know better. God, I swear this is like talking to a slice of bread.”
“Listen, man, there is nothing wrong with having an affinit
y for mythological beings. It’s not my fault you—”
“Because I assumed you were—”
“Enough, gentlemen,” Coach Emerson clapped his hands again and both turned quickly to look at him. The coach seemed less than enthused, pointing over to Fabian and Matt who were still holding hands and maintaining eye contact while engaging in polite conversation.
Both Drew and Adrian felt their faces fall, and both looked across the room to find their lovers staring back at them. Sam was biting at his lip, an eyebrow cocked skeptically, while Cassius looked like he wanted to slap someone.
“Our next activity is red-hands. I’m sure you all recall this from your boyhood days. We’ll play for five minutes starting now.”
Garry was oblivious to Cassius’s anguish and took the new task quite seriously, slapping the man’s hands hard enough to make them burn and sting. He was able to do so four or five times before Cassius finally got his head in the game and started to react properly.
“Ow!” He hissed, shaking his hands out with a wince.
The man smirked and put his hands out for another round. “Too slow, Cass. You have to pay attention.”
“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, glancing over at Drew and Adrian. “I’m a little distracted.”
“By those clowns?” Garry snorted, slapping Cassius’s hands sharply to get his attention. “Just ignore them. They’re annoying.”
Yeah, they were annoying. Cassius could concede as much, though he still stole occasional glances in their direction, wary of the aggressive look in Drew’s eyes. He knew that look, knew it all too well. He knew Adrian didn't need him to jump in on his behalf or anything, but Drew was obviously plotting something. He just wished he could figure out what it was and spare his boyfriend some grief.
Garry slapped him again, snorting triumphantly. “Gotcha!”
“Hey!”
Sam and Simon were dutifully playing along, both taking the game about as seriously as could be expected considering they both had their attentions diverted. Simon was still paying more attention to Fabian and Matt than he was to his partner, while Sam covertly observed Drew and Adrian, unable to make out what either one of them was saying.
Both Simon and Sam went through the motions though, slapping randomly at each other’s hands, in their own thoughts to the point that neither of them noticed how in the midst of the session, Carson and Tyrone somehow ended up right beside them, both with curious expressions.
“I don’t think they’ve spotted us,” Carson grinned, speaking in a stage whisper.
Tyrone raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat. “How are you enjoying the scenery, gentlemen?”
Sam and Simon both snapped back to reality, turning quickly to look at them, both somewhat sheepish at being called out. Simon recovered quickest, petulant for a moment before reverting to his typical level of cool. “The view’s just swell. Now what the hell do you want?”
“Emerson told us to swap with you two. He says you look like a couple of lifeless fish.” Tyrone spoke matter of factly, as if the fact that their coach noticed noticing their lackluster enthusiasm for the team building game wasn’t a big deal or anything. Both Sam and Simon were sufficiently spooked. “Come on, Simon. You and I need to have a little talk.”
Carson gave Tyrone a cute little smirk, bounding toward Sam, whispering in a low voice. “Okay, fill a guy in. What’s up with those two?”
“Who? You mean Simon and…” He realized quickly that he was mistaken, following Carson’s eyes back to where Adrian and Drew were slapping at each other’s hands. Each of them seemed to get an odd sort of satisfaction from it. Sam frowned a little, then looked back to Carson. “They’re just talking.” He almost sounded convincing. Almost.
Carson laughed brightly, putting his hands out to play the game. “It’s weird though, isn’t it?”
“What’s so weird about it?” Sam struck quickly, slapping both of Carson’s hands with slightly excessive force. The man winced and hissed.
“Nothing,” Carson said, pouting a little. “It’s just that I didn’t think they were friends.”
Sam looked back to them, noticing then how something had changed. They’d been so confrontational before, Drew attacking, attacking, attacking, relentlessly pursuing, Adrian defensive, immobile, resisting at every turn. They’d been like that the whole time. Except they weren’t anymore. Their expressions had softened slightly and Sam could swear he saw understanding in his lover’s eyes. Maybe coach’s childish games were working.
“I didn’t know they were either.”
Indeed, the encounter between Adrian and Drew had taken a turn for the poignant. They’d been doing their thing, slapping each other, not so much aggressive or angry as pointedly put off by the other, when Adrian finally caved.
“Is this about Cassius? Did Sam send you over here to hound me about this?”
Drew, to his credit, only gave a slight shrug, a sufficient enough answer.
Adrian sighed, his dark eyes going steely then. “All right then. You can tell Sam that what goes on between me and Cass is between me and Cass and no one else. It’s none of his damn business.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Drew said, voice low and sharp. He leaned in close, so only Adrian could hear his words. “Sam has every right to be concerned.”
Adrian set his jaw, “No he doesn’t. He doesn’t know anything about us.”
“That’s why he’s fucking concerned.”
“That’s why he’s already judging us. That’s why he told Cass he thinks we’re going to break up.”
“He doesn’t think that.”
“Well Cass thinks that he thinks so.”
“He doesn’t think that, you moron.”
“Cass has known Sam longer than you have, so I’m pretty sure he—”
“Excuse me? No. Listen, here pal, I know Sam better than he does, and I—”
“No, you hold on. I know Cass better than Sam does. And Cass knows me better than any of you do. So back off.”
While the two of them were still keeping their voices quiet, there was no denying the heat flaring up between them. Both were scowling, both close to snapping at each other. Again, it was Adrian who caved. He swallowed hard, tilting his chin so he could look Drew squarely in the eyes as he spoke. “He’s my best friend, Drew.”
“Is he?”
“Yes.”
“Is that all he is?”
“That's none of your business.”
“Fair. Do you trust him?”
“I do. I trust him with my life.”
“And he trusts you.”
“Yes.”
“With everything?”
“With everything.”
“And you’re fine with it.”
“Of course.”
“Even the ugly stuff? The painful stuff? The dark stuff?”
Adrian’s mouth twitched a little, and then it hit him like a piano falling out of a tenth floor apartment window on moving day. Drew knew. Drew knew about Cassius, knew his secret, knew his curse.
A look of panic flashed in Adrian's eyes and he turned quickly to look to Cassius, for guidance, enlightenment, anything. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say? Was this some sort of fucked up test of his loyalty, to see if he'd betray Cass somehow? Well, fuck those guys. He loved Cass. He might not have always showed it, but he did, and they had no right to question his motivations or feelings or trustworthiness.
Besides, he hadn't insinuated about it to anyone, let alone in a room full of people. From his spot with Garry, Cassius sent him a disquieted look, completely unaware of the conversation between the other two. Adrian gulped, turning back to face Drew.
“I’d take everything. Even ugly stuff. Even dark stuff.” The younger man’s eyes had gone wide as he spoke, and Drew knew then that Adrian understood his line of questioning. Maybe ‘toast-for-brains’ wasn’t so dumb after all. “And I couldn't care less what you or Sam think about it. I never asked for y
our blessing. It'd be nice to have it, but gaining your personal seal of approval has never once factored into my decision-making process for anything, let alone my relationship with Cass. So, while I appreciate the friendly concern, knock it off, yeah. Go tell Sam that Cass is in safe hands. Tell him…tell him that Cass could be a monster, he could be a freak, he could be crazy or violent or damaged, or whatever and that wouldn't change a thing. But he's not any of those things. Nothing about him is dark or ugly or frightening. Nothing about him is broken or damaged. You're his friends. You should already know that.”
Drew looked him over again, searching for any signs of deception in him, any signs that he'd faltered during his speech and found none. Adrian was weird as fuck, but then again, Cass wasn’t exactly normal either. So maybe that was the appeal. Maybe that’s why they were drawn to each other. One weirdo deserved another. Who better to romance an awkward werewolf than a nerd with a weird affinity for gryphons, right? He still wasn't sure that he trusted Adrian entirely, but he'd at least gotten a better sense of the situation, and Adrian was nothing if not vocally devoted. That had to count for something.
“It’s like that?” Drew asked, jaw relaxing a little.
Adrian nodded, quiet, solemn. “It’s like that.”
He closed his eyes and nodded, snorting as he tried to look smug. “All right. Well. I think this is the part where I tell you if you break his heart, I’ll break your face.”
“You can’t even reach my face.” Adrian said, casting his eyes sideways toward Cass. The expression on his face was almost one of longing, Drew noted. “Besides, Cass is a big boy. He doesn’t need anyone to defend his honor, not you and not even me. It's tempting to jump in to save him, but some battles have to be fought all alone.”
Drew considered that a moment, his thoughts interrupted by Coach Emerson announcing that they were moving on to the next activity. “All right, gentlemen. It's time for trust falls.”
Howl At The Moon: MM Shifter Romance Page 11