Ruiz was relatively scrawny in comparison, but I had the feeling he was going to be having Kiwi for dinner.
Scrunching his eyes closed, Coach muttered, “HR. I’m sending HR after every single one of you. Just… fucking win.”
We headed out to the pitch with something to prove; the entire team, queer or not, took Coach’s words to heart. We put those assholes on notice, scoring on the first drive. Every time the Dallas team said something about our jerseys, we chirped back with our favorite things to do in bed.
“I dunno about you,” Taavi said to the hooker on their team as he ground his cheek into the dirt, “but I’m a missionary girlie, through and through.”
Ruiz, post-tackle and unable to help himself, replied, “I’ve got a sex wedge that’s clutch in missionary.”
“Don’t you have a latex allergy?” Schultz asked as he tossed the ball backward to Lane.
“Yeah, but I found the perfect condoms for anal, and they feel like nothing.”
By the end of it, the Dallas team was red-faced and spitting mad, having been shut out by a team full of queer and allied athletes. It was the best night ever.
Coach kept his word about having HR visit us, but the guy who showed up was a super-femme twinky fellow in sharp glasses and a bow tie. I was pretty sure by the end of it he was going to be the meat in a Ruiz-Taavi sandwich.
After everyone showered and exited the locker room, I chatted up Coach on my thoughts for the game against DC coming up next week. When we made it out to the parking lot, Sev was hanging by my car, trying to look casual.
Given the fact that my team was good and that anyone who saw my face already knew how I felt about this man, I gestured for him to join us.
CHAPTER 10
SEVERIN
“Hey,Coach. This is my boyfriend, Severin Sousa. He’s the head chef over at Adorado.”
Rhys’s eyes widened as the word boyfriend fell out of his mouth and he grimaced through the rest of his sentence. We hadn’t really talked about our labels, but we were definitely on the same wavelength.
I set my temple against his massive shoulder and stuck out my hand. Coach’s brows raised—briefly—but he recovered quickly and took it. After we shook, he stepped back and brought up his hands.
“You have a cochlear implant,” he said and signed.
“Yeah,” I responded. “But my sign language is still not great. This one has been helping me practice.”
Coach sent me an understanding smile, then beckoned for a little girl off to the side to join us. She had Coach’s sharp blue eyes and followed his quick signs better than I did.
“This is Dahlia. Dahlia, this is Severin.”
Her eyes went to my cochlear implant and she moved her hair aside, showing me hers. I held up my palm, and she high-fived me. Then, as if a starter pistol had gone off, the two of us started talking. We compared our cochlear implants. She hadtwo, so she had better hearing overall, but she was impressed with the brand of processor I had.
As we were chatting, a statuesque woman with thick blonde hair down to her waist walked up to Coach.
“That’s Coach’s wife,” Rhys explained.
They stepped to the side and began signing with one another. It was the kind of casual signs that I had the hardest time with, and then I realized that maybe it was a private conversation.
Shit, I should probably learn sign language etiquette.
She turned to Rhys and smiled. “You’re Dawie, right?”
“Ye-yes.”
I could tell from her voice that she was Deaf, but I wasn’t sure if she had the cochlear implant as well.
She saw me looking and laughed. “I’m Corinda. I was born Deaf, like my daughter. I didn’t want the cochlear implant, but she did.”
O-k, I signed and mouthed.I know sign. Sort of. But now s-e-r-i-o-u-s about learning.
