Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Simeon, please?”
“Please, what?”
“Please give me a chance. Let me keep seeing you. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. I know I fucked up in the past, and I know you’re not gonna just get over it—”
“It’s not about that anymore,” he said. “That’s what I wanted to tell you before. All that shit I said to the reporters was how I used to feel about you. Back before I knew you were a confused queer boy lashing out because he wanted me.”
I could tell by his teasing tone that he expected me to launch into banter, but I nodded. “I was. And I did. And I still want you. Do I have to beg?”
Simeon looked at me sideways. “Hush, boy. You know I don’t need you to beg.”
“Then what do you need from me?”
He closed his eyes and pressed his face harder into the pillow. “I need you to tell me I won’t ruin your career by being in your life. Because no matter how hard I try to be discreet, I know somehow . . . I’ll screw it up. ’Cause that’s me, boo. I’m a mess. A lovable mess, but still a goddamn mess.”
“And what the fuck am I? I didn’t even know I was bi.”
Simeon laughed. “A lot of people don’t figure that shit out from jump. It’s not just you.”
“Still. We’re both messy. Can’t we just throw caution to the wind and be messy together?” I drew him in for a brief kiss. “And it might be kinda hot. Secretly meeting up before a game, dicking you out hard and then blitzing you the next day on the field.”
“And then taking out all that aggression and adrenaline on each other after? Mmm. Actually that does sound kinda hot.”
“Because it is hot. As long as you don’t get all caught up in your feelings after we beat you guys when we play again in a couple of months.”
“Keep dreaming, Bravo.”
We kissed again, longer this time, before we backed off just enough to speak.
“Gimme an answer, Boudreaux. Just tell me one way or the other. You gonna give me a shot?”
His breath whooshed out in a shuddering gush against my face. I held him tighter, wanting to squeeze out his fears and replace them with the reassuring weight of my arms.
“Okay,” he said after a while. “Let’s give each other a shot. But you gotta stop calling me Booty, and never try to joke with Gavin. Like ever, man. Trust me.”
My laugh bordered on hysterical, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even care how goofy I was acting when I rolled him so he was stretched atop me with our faces crushed together. This was as close to relationship goals as I’d ever gotten, and I was fucking happy.
“We’re gonna be awesome, Simeon. For real.”
“How do you know?”
“Because . . .” I squeezed him in a bear hug. “Something that feels this good can’t go wrong.”
Chapter Sixteen
Simeon
Fall started with a hurricane and the end rapidly approached like a damn tornado. Four out of six games leading up to the holidays were away, and after my mini break I felt ill-prepared and out of shape.
Hits seemed to impact me harder, my ears rang a little bit longer, and sometimes I had to blink several times while on my back in the middle of the field before I could regain my bearings. Had I gotten that soft in the first two months of the season, or was I distracted by . . . other things? Things like spending every scrap of a moment that wasn’t at the training facility or in a shitty hotel room with Adrián Bravo.
We’d been together, secretly, for over a month, and it was going strong. We met up on off days, usually him coming over or me sneaking into his building, and fucked each other senseless for hours before embarking on a Netflix-and-chill. And in a few hours, he was meeting my mother for a belated Thanksgiving on Long Island. The holiday had to be postponed since we’d both had away games on the day of.
“Yo, what if she fucking hates me?”
“Don’t curse around her, and she won’t.”
“You think I’m suicidal, man? If I curse around my mom, she’d beat my fucking ass.”
I smirked. “Man, I’d love to see that.”
“I bet.”
Adrián was sitting on the floor of my kitchen and staring in the glass door of the oven at the pork shoulder he’d been roasting for hours. He’d also taken to swatting me every time I opened the door to pull off the crispy bits that were already done.
“Gotta say, you cooking is definitely good for sucking up.”
“Well, I figured I had to do something besides looking cute and making coquito while your ass preps an entire turkey.”
“I dunno, boo. That coquito was like magic in my mouth.”