“Look, I’m not the same person I was. I was scared, and I acted…stupidly. I didn’t know how to make those guys shut up without exposing my feelings for you. I loved you so much, I figured everyone could already see it and?—”
“You’re supposed to stand up for those you love, not let people diss them behind their backs.” He scoffed. “You’re repeating the same shit you said in high school. Did you really think repeating it would change the outcome?”
“No, but maybe I hoped you’d perceive the incident in a new light, now that you’re older. I’m hoping you can empathize with a kid who was scared shitless of their sexuality.” I let out a long breath. This was pointless. Maybe I’d grown more mature, and he hadn’t? “I had hoped time had softened your hatred of me. But I guess I’m wrong and now…” I glanced toward the hallway where his girlfriend had gone. “Now I guess you’ve got someone else.”
His brows furrowed, and he set his coffee on the table. “What?”
“Your girlfriend. She seems like a good person.” Shehadleft us alone to talk, even pushed him into it. I slumped as an ache wormed through my heart.
“She’s not my—” He made air quotes. “—Girlfriend.” He huffed a breath. “She’s a girl and a good friend, my roommate even, but we’re not together that way. I’m gay, remember?” He choked out a laugh. “Have you switched sides? I thought you were part of the queer contingent on the football team?”
I stared at him. He was still gay. She wasn’t a girlfriend. A glint of warmth radiated through my heart. Was there a chance? But hehatedme. “Do you, uh, do you have a boyfriend then?”
“No, not at the moment.” He sipped his coffee as he scanned the area. “You?”
“Nope. I’ve dated a few guys, but it never worked out.”Theynever compared to you.I raked my gaze over him, his pecs and shoulder muscles filling out his sweats, his slender hips and the way his satisfying bulge sat between his thighs inside his joggers. My dick stirred. “You look—um, you look good, by the way.” There, would he take the compliment?
“Thanks.” He pursed his lips, dipped his head and then faced me. “What do you want from me?” For a second, his gaze softened.
“I don’t want you to hate me.” I’d start there. Maybe asking forgiveness was too much. I studied him as he tapped his index finger on his glass and made another scan of the room.
“Okay, so how am I supposed to do that without forgiving you?” He wrinkled his brows and leaned in. “Do you know how much you hurt me? How fucking heart—” Clamping his mouth shut, he stood. “We’re done here. Five minutes are over.” He stomped off toward the hallway.
“Wren,” I called to him, but he kept on. “Shit.” Fisting my hand, I punched my thigh. Had I gotten anywhere? This conversation would haunt me throughout the game.
Later that evening,after the team dinner, I readied for bed and left the bathroom in my pajama bottoms. The room assignments paired me with Tex. It was unusual to pair defensive and offensive linemen together, but who was I to question the coaching staff? I hoped to hell he didn’t ask about my foul mood. Shit, maybe the coaches had noticed and figured sharing a room with my buddy would help.
“What’s eating you?” He lay on his bed against the pillows and the cream tufted headboard, scrolling on his phone.
“Nothing.” Of course, he fucking asked. I threw the covers aside and slipped between the sheets. “You shouldn’t be on your phone right before bedtime.”
“Okay, Mom.” With a sly grin, he set his phone on the darkwood nightstand between us, shifted down the bed, and rolled to his side, facing me. “Now tell me what’s going on. I’ve never seen you so quiet at a team dinner.”
I faced him, tucking my hand under my pillow. I couldn’t tell him about Wren, could I? Malik had been too busy to talk to me this evening.
“Are you worried about the game tomorrow? I know you weren’t playing your best last weekend, and well, you didn’t look great in practice this week either.” He wrinkled his forehead. “Talk to me, man.”
“I…” This was Tex, a man who consistently offered support in the weight room, who always pushed me to my limits and made me work harder. Huffing an exhale, I said, “Okay, my ex from high school is here. He’s on the Spirit Squad, and we had a brief discussion this afternoon.”
Rising onto an elbow, Tex said, “Yeah? The new guy?” He lifted the corner of his mouth. “The cute little twink?”
I shot him a look as my chest heated. “He’s not available.” Except he was.
“No? Damn, that’s too bad. I wanted to tap him, maybe after the game tomorrow.” With a snicker, he fell onto his back. “Who’s he seeing?”
I scoffed. “Tex, stop it. He’s not seeing anyone. I just said that?—”
“Because you still have feelings for him?” He arched a brow and faced me again, mirroring me.
“No, of course not.” Except I fucking did. I glanced at Tex. He wasn’t buying this. I could tell from his expression. “Yeah, I still have feelings for him. But he hates me.”
“Why? No one ever hates you. You’re like a big teddy bear daddy and everyone loves you.” He stared at me.
“I was an asshole to him in high school, and apparently, he still hates me for it.” God, how many times would I have to relive my failing? I rolled onto my back and crossed my arms over my chest.
“I have a hard time believing you were an asshole to anyone.” He inhaled deeply. “But go on.”
“I was in a bathroom when some guys, fellow footballers, said derogatory things about him, and I was too scared to defend him. I wasn’t out. We were dating in secret.” My gut tensed. What would Tex think? He’d never known that part of me. “His best friend was in the stall and heard it. He defended him.” I swallowed hard. “And told him what happened.”
