“Fuck.”
Taylor was taking a cold shower. He needed to put himself in timeout. This was… What the fuck?
* * *
The team had flown back from a game in Chicago late last night. Or maybe it was early morning. The plane was silent as the Seaporters all dozed off. But for some reason, Taylor couldn’t sleep. He’d had a lot on his mind the past two months.
He couldn’t deny it anymore. Fletcher Armstrong had become the bane of his existence. He couldn’t function properly if they were in the same room together. Over the past couple of weeks, Fletcher had been going out with a girl named Maude. She was pretty enough, Taylor thought. She was petite with fair skin, long brown hair, and big doe eyes.
Maude was very clingy, and Taylor didn’t know how Fletcher could put up with it. If they were in Seattle, Fletcher was with her. If they were on the road, he would text her. If they were in their hotel room, he would call her. It got old quick.
Taylor wanted to be happy for him, but Maude made it really hard to like her. It was like she knew exactly how to push Taylor’s buttons and piss him off. From an outsider’s standpoint it seemed like he and Maude were just playfully teasing each other. But only she and Taylor knew that it was all a game of who could steal Fletcher’s attention for the night. And she always ended up winning.
One night at a bar she and Taylor were bickering over Fletcher’s hair. Maude thought he needed to cut it short, so he looked “less homeless.” Taylor told her that Fletcher looked fine the way he was.
“You’re not the one who has to look at him all day,” she argued. Actually, Taylorwasthe one who would stare at him all day because they were teammates and roommates and bus buddies and what have you. It wasn’t weird to spend as much time as he did with Fletcher considering they were best friends, honestly.
That’s what Taylor had told himself to help him sleep at night.
Slowly but surely, Maude had found a way to invade their little friendship bubble by keeping him on his phone to talk to her. And the worst part about all of it was that Fletcher let her.
He and Taylor were in some sort of limbo state where they would get really close for a day and then be distant and guarded with each other for a few days. It confused the hell out of him, but the common denominator of this whole ordeal was that Taylor wanted more time with Fletcher. He wanted his attention. He wanted Fletcher to pester him with questions about random stupid shit. He wanted Fletcher to tell him about his boring ski trips to Banff. He just wanted more of Fletcher.
Something happened that night on their plane ride home from Chicago.
It was late. Taylor had finally admitted to himself that there was no way he was going to fall asleep. He looked around the cabin to see if anyone else was awake, but it seemed like all of his teammates and everyone else on the plane were passed out. Except for Fletcher.
Taylor had become hyper aware of Fletcher, which contributed heavily to this huge dilemma he was in. Recently, Fletcher had been sitting in the back of the planes so he could have privacy while talking to Maude. Taylor couldn’t even think of what they could possibly talk about for hours on end. Taylor didn’t want to bother Fletcher, but he still found himself quietly exiting the row he shared with Sánchez and walking to the backof the plane.
He was still awake. Taylor had a feeling he was. Fletcher had on his headphones and was staring out of his window as Taylor walked to the back of the plane. Taylor occupied the aisle seat in Fletcher’s row, which made Fletcher turn his head down to look at him.
The plane was dark. Nearly pitch black if it weren’t for the illumination of the screens built into the backs of the seats. The light from Fletcher’s screen lit his face up as Fletcher removed his headphones.
“You’re still awake?” he asked Taylor.
“Yeah, I couldn’t fall asleep.”
Fletcher tucked his headphones into his bag and picked it up from the middle seat. Taylor scooted over to occupy the seat and grabbed the bag from Fletcher to put in his aisle seat.
“What’s going on?” Taylor asked him.
Fletcher frowned and let out a sigh. “Maude dumped me over text, but I didn’t see the message ‘til” we boarded the plane.”
“That sucks man. I’m sorry.”
Fletcher let out a breath that sounded more annoyed than sad and just shrugged. Like it didn’t matter. Likeshedidn’t matter. That should’ve been a relief to Taylor, but instead it just put him more on edge.
“I think it was for the best anyways,” Fletcher said. His hand landed on Taylor’s thigh, so casually and familiar that it couldn’t mean a thing. It shouldn’t mean a thing. And yet, Taylor’s heart kicked violently against his ribs the moment the warmth of Fletcher’s palm met his leg.
Taylor’s Apple Watch buzzed.Heart rate too high. Try to cool down.Taylor’s mouth went dry as he read it. No fucking shit, he thought to himself. He wasfucking spiraling.
Fletcher’s eyes flickered down to the watch, then back up to him. He didn’t say anything. He just looked at Taylor like he was waiting for Taylor to do something. Daring him to say something. Like he was satisfied Taylor was reacting this way. There was no way he didn’t read it. They both found themselves frozen in place as they held each other’s gaze. The hum of the plane filled the space around them, low and constant, reminding them that they weren’t alone.
“Relax,” he whispered to Taylor a moment later.
Taylor swallowed. “You said it was for the best.” Taylor hated how rough his voice sounded. He couldn’t be any less obvious. “Why? I thought you liked her.”
Fletcher exhaled through his nose. “I did,” he said. Followed by a pause that was heavier than the answer. “I didn’t want any distractions. The cup, media, pressure. I didn’t want anything pulling my focus.”
