That was when some projectile clocked him in the back of the head.It nearly sent him into a somersault.His legs couldn’t keep up with the forward momentum of his upper body.His knees gave and he pitched forward, throwing out his hands to catch himself.
Which was, of course, when he lost his grip on the book and dropped it.Actually, it was more of a fling than a drop.Sam lay there, cheek on the cold, damp autumnal grass, front getting soaked with dew, stunned and blinking at his book a few feet in front of him.Verdant, his brain supplied.Your romance novel is lying in a verdant field of grass, longing for its reader.A weird-looking, snub-nosed white football wobbled its way into his field of vision and came to a rocking halt.
Knees dropped onto the grass next to his head, jolting him.Sam strained his eyeballs upward and saw the brawny, shirtless Highlander who’d been leading the pack panting and scowling down at him.His sexy faux-Highlander muscles were straining and his chest was rising and falling rapidly.He had a veritable forest of caramel chest hair.
He made the best living, breathing (panting) romance novel cover Sam had ever seen.Macho and manly and stern and,oh man.Sam sighed.Guys like this were never gay.They were always the ones chasing the homos.
At that point it occurred to him to wonder why they’d been chasing him.“What are you doing?”he gurgled.His sluggish brain suddenly started calling out the anxiety attack.
The guy panted a couple of breaths before growling, “Playing smear-the-queer.Waddaya think?We’re playing rugby!”He huffed derisively, then turned away.Sam saw him reach for the football, his hand hesitating over the book.
Oh, fuck my life.Sam scrunched his eyes shut.Other feet pounded up around him, and voices asked if he was all right andWhat the fuck?Sam held his breath, waiting for the shaming to begin.
When he felt something shoved roughly under his side, his eyes popped open, and he looked into the smiling, patronizing face of the Highlander.His fingers brushed against Sam’s ribcage as he pulled his hand away.
Sam smiled tentatively.The Highlander shook his head in disgust, except he was smiling, just a little.“You all right?”he asked.
“Uh.Yeah.”Sam stared dumbly.Was that a chorus of angels he heard?The sounds of the other players faded away as Sam met his Highlander’s mossy green eyes.He felt asomethinglock into place inside his chest.Click.
Twue wuv.
It appeared to be a one-sided revelation.
His Highlander gazed back at him with some emotion in his eyes.It was ...confusion.Confusion quickly becoming something more like condescension.He lifted his hand, still on his knees in the grass beside Sam, reaching for him as if in slow motion.Sam realized with horror that the Highlander was going to give him a conciliatory pat on the head and then stand up and walk away.Didn’t he feel theclick, too?How completely unfair that Sam should know instantly that this man was his destiny, but his stupid Highlander had no clue.
Poor, naïve hero.He wouldn’t know what hit him when he finally fell in love.Sam almost felt sorry for him.Almost.It was hard to feel sorry for some bastard who was about to pat your head and dismiss you, soul mate or not.
“Ian!”One of his Highlander’s clan, um, teammates was suddenly standing there, shaking the Highlander’s shoulder.
Ian.His name is Ian.Sam sighed.
The Highlander—Ian—dropped his hand and looked away from Sam.“Yeah?”
“C’mon, man, you gonna play or what?”
Ian looked back at Sam for a second.“Yeah.Just give me a minute.”The guys on the team started to wander away while Ian reached again for Sam.
At first Sam thought he was going to get the head pat after all, but Ian held out his hand, palm up.As if he wanted Sam to take it.
Sam stared at the hand a second, then looked back up at Ian.He was an ideal romance novel hero, in Sam’s humble (yet well-read) opinion.All those muscles and that curly hair on his chest.Sprinkles of gold above his nipples, thicker on his massive, blocky pectorals.Who knew blocky was so hot?Guh.The hair, though.Sublime.Thinner on the sides but growing in toward his center, a line of it defining his sternum, swirling around his navel, arrowing toward his groin.Happy trails to you...
Ian snorted out a laugh, and Sam jerked his head off the ground.Ian was laughing at him, one side of his mouth curled up.
Oops.Sam might have let the ogling get out of control.
“You need help getting up, or what?C’mon, we wanna play.”In a lower voice, he added, “Put your eyes back in your head.”
Oh.Sam felt his face get hot as he reached out and took Ian’s hand.The way this was going, it would be his only chance to touch his Highlander.Ian pulled him up so fast, he went from prone to standing with no stops in between.
“Jeez, you’re strong.”And you, Sam, are a conversational reject.
Ian just snorted that laugh again and looked at him.Standing, they were about the same height.That was kind of unusual.It made Sam’s insides clench.
“You all right, kid?”
Kid?Oh!A pet name.“Um, yeah, think so.”
“Let me see your eyes,” he said, getting in Sam’s face.Sam swallowed and held his breath while Ian scrutinized him carefully for something.Studying his eyes.Theywerehis best feature, which wasn’t saying much in his opinion.He’d never had someone pay quite this much attention to them, though.“Yeah,” Ian muttered.“Same size.”
