“Oh there was a look, a blushing dreamy look!” she chuckles. “There’s something going on with the roommate, isn’t there?”
“What? No! Don’t be ridiculous.” I stand and step towards the pool.
“So why are you avoiding talking about him?”
“I’m not avoiding!”
“You’re literally moving away from me right now!” She grins at me from her lounger as I lower myself into the pool.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I say, swimming away on my back, knowing she won’t continue if there’s distance between us in case Diablo or my mom overhear.
She shakes her head, and I know it’s not the end of her questioning, but honestly, I don’t even know what I’d tell her about Stephen. All I’ve mentioned to her so far is that he’s a hot straight jock who didn’t have the time of day for me. She doesn’t need to know that I was very wrong, and he’s actually not straight, and he’s also incredibly sweet and caring, and I still can’t stop thinking about how amazing he smelled when he hugged me and how well I fit against his chest.
I managed to avoid being alone with Beth for the rest of the afternoon, as we were getting ready for the gallery event Mom and Miguel are taking us to. All I need to do now is keep avoiding her throughout the evening so she can’t corner me into talking about Stephen. I can’t lie to her, but I promised him I’d keep the fact that he’s pansexual a secret. It will just be easier not to talk to her about him for now.
We’re waiting in the living room for my mom and Beth. Mom is thrilled that Diablo agreed to come with us tonight, honestly I bet she’d be even happier if she knew it was because he wants to spend more time with Beth, anything to get him as far away from the club as possible.
“Muy bonita, mi amor,” Miguel says to my mom as she walks into the room.
She does look beautiful, and it makes me all the more grateful that she’s away from my father and found a man who treats her the way she deserves, like a queen.
“You look great, Mamá,” Diablo says.
Beth appears on the stairs through the door, and I let out a loud wolf whistle. Ninety-nine percent of the time she’s a ‘jeans and T-shirt’ girl, and always looks beautiful, but when she does make the effort to dress up, she’s an absolute knock out.
“You look beautiful, mija,” Mom says to Beth. “Doesn’t she look beautiful, Ángel?”
My mom’s the only one who can get away with calling him his real name, to everyone else, he’s Diablo. I’m curious how he’ll respond to being put on the spot like this. The fact that he showed up here is proof there’s something going onbetween them, but how long do they plan on keeping this quiet?
“Um… yeah… uh… she looks great,” he mumbles.
Wow, I’ve never seen him nervous over a girl before, he really is into her. Seeing the looks between them both, and the open way Miguel is gazing at my mom, loneliness washes over me. I wish more than anything that I could have a relationship and someone who looks at me like that.
As I’m thinking this, it’s also Stephen who enters my mind, picturing him as he’s been during this last week, so much more open and comfortable, spending more time in the dorm room, just shooting the shit and talking about classes. I hope he’s having a good time in Tynerston; he’s there for training this weekend. I can text him and ask, can’t I? That’s something a friend would do… right?
Hey, just wanted to check in and see how training is going, hope you’re having fun! Donovan.
Stephen
With the happy voices around the room and home-cooked food, this is the most at home I’ve felt since leaving my parents’ house. Our wide receiver coach, Ted, and his wife Bri invite the receivers and quarterbacks around every month for a meal. I was nervous because the others have been here before and played together for a long time, but Bri instantly made me feel welcome and it didn’t take long to settle in and enjoy the food and banter.
Ted’s a master on the grill and Bri made the most amazing sides to accompany our steaks; we’ve got greens, mac ‘n’ cheese, cornbread, and potato salad. I’d eat way more if I could, but I’ve still got Sunday training to go and don’t want a food hangover tomorrow.
I’m sitting next to Marcus Grant, the starting quarterback, who I’ve grown closest to over the training sessions. He’s been helping me practice my one-handed catches, a trick I challenged myself to learn from a young age, but I’ve yet to use it in a game scenario; he thinks it could be the thing that sets me apart from the other receivers and running backs.
I’ve mainly been known for my speed during my career; I’m one of the fastest runners in the offense, scoring highly on the forty-yard dash at the Scouting Combine, but it’s a whole different game when you’re running against some of the pro defense players.
“Do all the positions get invited to their coach’s house for a meal?” I ask, curious about how the rest of the team socialize.
“Not all, some of them go out for dinner instead. I’m lucky, I get invited to lots of dinners, everyone wants to keep the quarterbacks happy!” he chuckles. “Ted used to invite the receivers only, but he knows it’s important for us to spend time together too. You need to trust me to get the ball to you, and I need to trust that you’ll do the right thing with it when you get it.”
“Makes sense,” I say, “one of the many perks of being the quarterback I guess.”
He gently punches me. “Hey, we need all the perks we can get. Yeah, if games go well, people love us, but the minute we start losing, we’re the first to get shit.”
He’s not wrong, they carry a lot of responsibility. It’s not just throwing, it’s choosing the right play and communicatingit to the team, there’s a lot of pressure. Not to mention the fact that there are people on the opposite team literally dedicated to taking you out before you can throw the ball. I’m not sure how I’d deal with the pressure of knowing that some of the opposing players get a five-figure bonus for sacking me.
“This is fun though,” I say, gesturing around the table.
