“I’m not sayingdon’t, because you’re not Lane, thank God. We have our hands full enough with the demon twins. But like . . .step carefully, alright?”
“He’s not a child,” Dawson argued and then regretted saying anything at all.
“Right. Of course he’s not. But like . . .everything’s new to him. Remember how that was?”
Dawson did. How underwater he’d felt his whole first season in the NFL. “I’m watching out for him, that’s all.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re doing at least that now,” Aidan said.
Dawson smacked him on the arm. “You’re the fucking worst.”
Aidan grinned. “Yeah, yeah. But you love me, secretly.”
“Enough people love you, secretly,” Dawson said.
A complicated look passed over Aidan’s face. “Yeah,” he agreed.
Dawson raised an eyebrow. “You wanna talk aboutthat?” he asked, gesturing across the room to where Mo had joined Cam and Duke.
“I really, really don’t,” Aidan said, glancing briefly at Mo and then looking away.
“Remember that the next time you whine at me about sharingmyfeelings,” Dawson told him.
Laughing, Aidan chucked a fist under his chin. “I missed you, you know? When you were in Baltimore.”
“I’m not surprised,” Dawson said.
“Okay, how about this: if you’re gonna fuck the rookie, at least don’t fuckupthe rookie?”
Dawson rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna fuck the rookie.”
Aidan didn’t look like he believed him, which was fine. Aidan wasn’t the end-all, be-all of everyone’s sexual desires. Frankly Dawson hadn’t been convinced that Aidan evenhadsexual desires, not until Levi had shown up in Toronto and Aidan couldn’t stop looking at him.
But as much as he didn’t like it, Aidan’s words followed Dawson through the day. Through practice, watching from his spot on the field as Joey and Cam practiced hitting punts that landed within the five-yard line.
He could kick pretty damn far for a punter, no question, with a leg strength that belied his slender stature. But he had the accuracy too, which not every punter had. Most of them were just damn good at booming kicks, but not pulling back when the occasion demanded it. Dawson hadn’t met a punter yet with such a fine-tuned ability to judge exactly how much force wasneeded on a kick to pin an opposing team on the other side of the field.
It was just admiration of skill, that was all.
His high school English teacher would have insisted he was protesting way too much.
Brynn would probably tell him competence porn was a thing. After all, it had wonherover. Carlos had been her personal trainer, and there was a part of Dawson still very much pissed that his normally intelligent ex-wife had fallen intothattrap.
His words hung around at lunch, with Cam on one side of him and Duke and Jack across from him as he ate his chicken salad.
Did Cam look at him like Aidan said? Or was Aidan just seeing desire everywhere, now that he’d finally experienced it for himself?
No question, there was a thread of hero worship going on there. Dawson’s ego, bruised and battered,didenjoy that. A good reminder that at some point, not that long ago, he’d been aspirational. The kind of player other special teams guys talked about in hushed whispers.
He’d been proud of that. Probablytooproud, which was what his dad was always saying came before a fall.
But Dawson didn’t think that was all of it, either. It felt good, sure, and soothed a hurt. No question about it. But other guys had reached out, after Baltimore had released him, and he hadn’t been tempted to cash any of the checks their gazes promised.
They drove back to downtown together, as they had for the last few days, now. It felt good to even have Cam next to him in the seat, even if he was quiet. So it couldn’t just be the sweetness of Cam’s hero worship.
“Offensive-line dinner tonight,” Dawson reminded him as they were in the elevator heading up to their apartments.
“Right,” Cam said, nodding. “Should be a good time. I heard Lane and Trev were crashing, too.”
