“Couldn’t tell.” Cam’s smile was so bright it was hard to look at, but Dawson did it anyway, gazing up at him.
He was probably going to regret coming in his shorts in about five seconds, but for right now, Dawson decided he didn’t care. It wasn’t like he hadn’t slept naked with Cam before.
Truthfully, he was pretty sure it was even better that way.
“You feel better now?” Cam asked, looking like he knew the answer to that question.
Dawson sighed. “Yeah. I do, actually. Except for you know . . .” He waved at his crotch. “The wholemaking a mess like a teenagerthing.”
“Bet you were a cute teenager.” Cam’s dimple popped, he was smiling so hard.
“Not as cute as I am now,” Dawson teased. He took Cam’s outstretched hand and flopped down next to him on the bed. He should go get cleaned up, but in a minute. This was too nice to not enjoy, especially when Cam’s knee bumped Dawson’s and then didn’t move away.
“You’re magic,” Dawson murmured, glancing over at him and the words coming out before he could stop them. He was sure he’d have to explain himself, but Cam didn’t ask. His smile just softened, eyes glued to Dawson’s face, like he couldn’t look away.
As much as he tried to pack up last night’s conversation with Simon and put it away until after the game, the thoughts lingered in Dawson’s mind.
He turned over what he’d said to Cam and what Cam had suggested he do as he ate breakfast. As he took the bus over to the stadium.
As he got ready for warmups.
“You’re quiet,” Marty said as he headed onto the field with the rest of the special teams group.
“Focused,” Dawson said, even though he wasn’t sure that was what it was.
But he didn’t want to let the distraction in. Didn’t want to vocalize it, because what if he was right, and it fucked him up? He couldn’t go through that again. Especially not now when hewas beginning to really feel like Toronto was a great place. The winning was nice, no question about that, but the way the team was coming together was the real bonus.
And then there was Cameron.
Dawson had never expected he’d find something so good with the rookie, but it was hard to deny just how much he was enjoying it. Best hookup he’d ever had, hands down.
Marty raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? That’s good.”
“I’m always focused,” Dawson argued.
“Then why are you so quiet about it today?”
Dawson didn’t want Marty picking at the scabbed-over wound. He wanted to ignore it, especially until after this game was over. The Thunder had won five straight games to open the season and the sixth was riding on the line, today. Marty should know that and leave him the fuck alone.
Cam mostly had. They’d shared a few murmured thoughts this morning—general chitchat about the game and the city and the choices on the buffet spread—but Cam had seemed to sense that he still had the Ackerman situation on his mind and had mostly left him alone to pack it all up and put it away before the game.
Dawson let out a frustrated noise. “I don’t know, I just am, okay?”
Marty shot him a knowing look. Chomping at the omnipresent ball of gum in between his teeth. “Just checking in.”
“Well, I’m good.”
Marty didn’t look convinced, which was additionally annoying. “I’m dialed,” Dawson added. “Locked the fuck in.”
“What’s that phrase that old English guy liked to use? You protesting too much, Hall?”
“No,” Dawson complained. “And that’s fucking Shakespeare, you heathen.”
“Yep, that’s the guy,” Marty said cheerfully.
Dawson rolled his eyes and didn’t stomp off, though he was fairly tempted to do it. But if he had, Marty would’ve figured out he was annoyed. Might’ve figured out that he wasn’t as locked in as he wanted to be.
He went through his warmups and all his progressions. Everythingfeltfine, but there was still a persistently annoying worry in the back of his head that he’d head out to kick a field goal in the middle of a game and everything would hit him at once.
