I kissed a boy. My boyfriend. And I'm going to do it again as soon as possible.
Best Valentine's Day ever.
The sun'sbeating down on the track, and I'm already sweating through warm-ups. Shot put first, then hammer throw. It should be an easy meet; our only real competition is Cal State, and their best thrower pulled his rotator cuff last week.
"Gavin! Gavin! Gavin!"
I turn to see Max bouncing on the bleachers like an excited puppy, with Haru laughing beside him. And there's Doc,pretending to read a textbook, but his eyes are tracking my every move.
My boyfriend. Still feels weird thinking that word.
Good weird though. Really fucking good weird.
"Course he's got a book at a track meet," Devin laughs. "Nerd. Cute though." He's stretching for his 400m, all compact muscle and explosive energy. "He the one who had you floating around practice last week?"
"Shut up."
"Bro, you literally walked into a tackling dummy. Coach thought you had a concussion."
"I was thinking about plays."
"Sure you were." Devin grins. "That why you were humming? Strategic humming?"
I flip him off and head over to the half fence separating the field from the stands. Max immediately starts wolf-whistling.
"Wow, Gavin! That uniform!" He fans himself dramatically. "How does it even fit? It's like... painted on."
"I told Coach I need a bigger size." I grab my water bottle, very aware of how the shirt rides up. "Think I put on some muscle."
"It's perfect," Max sighs dreamily. Then yelps when Doc elbows him. "What? I'm just appreciating the aesthetic!"
"The aesthetic," Haru repeats, his English getting better every day. "Is that what we're calling it?"
Doc's face is pink, his textbook forgotten in his lap. He's trying so hard not to stare at where my shorts are riding up my thighs. Adorable.
"You guys staying for the whole meet?" I ask, taking a long drink. A drop of sports drink runs down my chin, and I catch Doc's eyes following it down my neck.
"Wouldn't miss it," Max says. "Right, Seb? Gotta support your guy."
"I'm here to study," he mutters, but he's still watching that droplet trail down to my collarbone.
Time to be a little shit. I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it off in one smooth motion, using it to wipe my face. All three of them go silent.
"What?" Playing innocent. "It's hot out here."
Max makes a strangled noise. Haru mutters in Japanese and it sounds appreciative. And Doc...
Doc's actually drooling. Just a little in the corner of his mouth. His eyes are locked on my abs like they hold the secrets of the universe.
"I should, um." He swallows hard. "Get back to studying."
"Sure, babe." I stretch my arms overhead, feeling my shorts ride even lower. "I'll just be over here. Throwing heavy things. Getting all sweaty."
"Sweet mechanical mercy," Max whispers.
"Roberts! You're up!" Coach Wilson calls.
I wink at Doc and jog back to the throwing circle. Maybe showing off a little in how I move, letting him see how all this muscle works together. The shot put's familiar weight grounds me, and I settle into position.
