* * *
He seethed the entire way back up to his room. He pulled his key card out and unlocked the door. He slipped out of his shoes and paused as Taylor popped his head out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in his mouth. He was freshly showered wearing only loose flannel pajama pants. His hair was brushed back, but a stray piece had fallen and curled in front of his face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked with a mouth full of toothpaste.
Fletcher groaned and shook his head as he walked towards his bag to find clean clothes to change into. He pushed past Taylor and put his clothes on the bathroom counter before reaching down to unbutton his shirt.
Taylor bent down over the sink to spit and rinse his toothbrush.
“Did he say something?” Taylor pressed.
Fletcher scoffed as he slid out of his shirt. “I need a shower,” was all he said. He pulled back the dewy shower curtain and turned the water on.
Taylor didn’t leave. “We’re going to talk about it after,” he told him. He didn’t leave until Fletcher nodded in agreement.He pulled the door shut behind him as he left.
This was the third shower Fletcher had taken today, and it still failed to help calm him down. He really needed to blow off some steam, but it was already midnight and he wasn’t in the mood to go out and find a girl to help with that. Especially a girl from Jacksonville. She could easily go and try to blackmail his parents for money considering Fletcher was the grandson of a pastor.
After brushing his teeth, he toweled his hair off and slid into some old gray sweatpants. He threw on a Seaporters T-shirt and walked out of the bathroom with a huff.
Taylor was sitting on his bed leaning up against the headboard. He was scrolling on his phone but put it down on the nightstand when Fletcher came and plopped down on his own bed.
“My dad thinks he’s going to be able to void my contract and have me traded back to the Manatees,” Fletcher admitted to him finally, voice full of annoyance.
“He can’t do that,” Taylor told him reassuringly. Calmly. “Do you have a trade agreement clause in your contract?”
Fletcher nodded. “It says I can only be traded to select teams. D.C., New York, any of the Canadian teams…” He sighed. “He told me he spoke to Bedingfield. Apparently, he’s going to take over as head coach for the Manatees when the season ends. He thinks it’ll give him the power to void my contract.” Fletcher scoffed.
Taylor slid off his bed and sat on the edge of Fletcher’s bed. Fletcher sat up and swung his legs over the side, so they were seated next to each other. Shoulder to shoulder. “I’m sure there’s some rule about not being allowed to play for a team that your parent coaches or something,” Taylor told him. Fletcher had already looked into it. There wasn’t.
Fletcher shrugged. Taylor reached out and grabbed his hand, interlacing their fingers, and squeezed it. His stomach clenched. This wasn’t normal. Friends don’t hold hands. Not even best friends held hands. Not in the privacy of the room they shared. With no one there to watch.
“It’s not going to happen, Armstrong. He can’t have your contract voided. It’s basically impossible.”
Fletcher was so angry. Not the kind of anger where you punch a wall to feel better. It was the kind of anger where you broke down and cried yourself to sleep. It was hopeless frustration.
Taylor squeezed his hand harder, seeming to be able to read his expression perfectly. “You’re too valuable to the team,” he assured him. “They’re not going to get rid of you.”
Fletcher fought back tears. He felt pathetic and weak the way he was so vulnerable in front of Taylor. “I know.” Fletcher shook his head.
“I know he can’t void my contract. I made sure of it. The part that actually upsets me is that he’s so concerned with his fucking image that he can’t bear to see me happy and thriving all on my own. Because it makes him look weak that I thrive on a different team.”
“Armstrong,” Taylor said so softly it came out as a whisper.
A single tear fell down Fletcher’s cheek. He quickly wiped it away and turned his head to the side so Taylor couldn’t see him cry.
“Armstrong,” Taylor repeated sadly.
He let go of Fletcher’s hand and hesitated for a moment before wrapping it around Fletcher, pulling him in for a hug. Fletcher froze for a minute, unsure of what to do. He had never hugged him before. He had never hugged anyone before like this. Emotional. Vulnerable. Comforting. Not even his momhad hugged him like this. But…Taylor. His heart clenched with a foreign feeling.
Like he was approaching a startled deer, he slowly wrapped his arms around Taylor. Like it was a test or something. But it wasn’t. Taylor let out a soft sigh of relief as Fletcher settled into the embrace. Fletcher rested his chin on the bare skin of Taylor’s shoulder. He was warm in Fletcher’s arms. And so… solid. All muscles. Fletcher was practically all muscle too now, but somehow his body melted right into Taylor’s. It was like he was a missing puzzle piece that blended in with the floor, but once he was pulled into the warmth of Taylor’s body the puzzle was finally complete. Heat pooled in his stomach. It was weird. But he liked whatever was happening.
He felt lightheaded. Or drunk. It could’ve been both.
They remained just like that, embracing one another. Neither of them pulled away. It was weird… but comfortable. It definitely made Fletcher feel better. Taylor held the back of Fletcher’s head. His fingers ran through Fletcher’s damp curls and Fletcher tipped his head down to rest his forehead against Taylor’s shoulder. A chill ran down Fletcher’s spine, feeling like a jolt of electricity. Neither man spoke. Because if they spoke, then it made this real.
Somehow, their bodies just knew what to do. Without thinking, Taylor slowly laid down on Fletcher’s bed, pulling Fletcher down with him. Fletcher rested his head against Taylor’s bare chest.
He listened to Taylor’s heartbeat as his chest rose and fell. Taylor still held a hand in his hair while the other rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles. It felt so good that it made Fletcher sick to his stomach. He shouldn’t be enjoying this. He rested the palm of his hand on Taylor’s chest. He memorizedthe way it felt. Skin to skin.
