When I walk through the front door, I hear the sports channel floating from the living room. Dare is spread out on our massive, custom-made gray sectional, one arm bent behind his head, the other scrolling through his phone. I absorb every detail of this beautiful man. His thick, dark hair that sits in messy waves just above his ears. Sometimes he keeps it short, but when he lets it grow, I love mindlessly running my fingers through it. It’s impossible to make out his eyes with the lighting in here, but I love when I can see the warm, rich brown that darkens with his mood. His eyes are framed by thick eyelashes that I would pay a fortune for. He can thank his Colombian heritage for his stunning brown skin tone. His abs, all eight of them, are a wonder. They’re currently peeking out from his shirt that’s ridden up, and I think of all the times I have spent worshipping them.
His one arm has an intricate black and gray floral tattoo with Christmas orchids snaking up and down from his shoulder to his wrist. I’ve spent countless hours tracing the outline of the butterflies hidden throughout. My favorite tattoo is the Andean condor that takes up his entire back. The bird is in flight, and the detail that went into each individual feather makes the bird seem so realistic that I find myself studying it whenever Dare is asleep on his stomach next to me. Suddenly, the thought that I’ll forget the details hits me like a Mack truck, causing my breath to catch in my throat.
“I feel you staring at me. How was your shoot?” He puts his phone on his chest and looks at me. I can sense the hesitation, like he’s not sure what side of me he’s going to get.
Rather than answering, I walk around the couch and climb up his body until we’re lying chest to chest, with me on top of him. His familiar scent envelops me, loosening the stress of the day. It’s outside, the warmth of the sun, and happiness. He smells like summer nights and happiness. Focusing on each point of our bodies that touch, I melt into the contact. “It was ok. I didn’t stick around to review the raw images.” I nuzzle his neck, and I wish I could crawl under his skin. Live inside of him, like I can’t get close enough.
Darío cups my face, forcing me to look at him. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out, ok? Just don’t shut me out, please.” Tears threaten to fall, so I lean in and kiss him. It starts out unhurried, as if we have all the time in the world. Except, now there’s a timer ticking insistently in the background. I’m cataloging every touch we share, the way his breathing hitches when I nibble on his lower lip, the way his arms wrap firmly around me. I’m surrounded by him, and I want to stay here, in this exact moment, forever.
“I love you, Dare.” His grip on me tightens as my tears start falling. Ugly, loud sobs escape my lips. The emotions pour out of me in fits of hiccups and tears as I let it all go. It feels like hours before my crying subsides. He doesn’t speak, just strokes my back and kisses the top of my head. Occasionally, he wipes tears from my face.
If I were less selfish, maybe I’d care that I’m going to drown him in tears and snot, but it feels as though my world is ending, and I have no control. Not of my emotions, not of what happens with my visa. The only thing I’m sure of is that I love this man more than I thought possible, and the thought of leaving him has my heart shattering.
“I love you so much, Harlan. It doesn’t matter the outcome, we’ll get through it,” he assures me as he continues to hold me close. I savor the feel of his hands running up and down my spine as he watches TV. “Are you hungry?”
“For your cock,” I joke. Ok, so it’s not really a joke. I can’t get enough of him. His body shakes with laughter as he cups my face. Leaning in, I nibble on his bottom lip before licking into his mouth. His erection digs insistently into my hip, hard and wanting, so I rub against him, causing him to moan into my mouth as he continues to devour me.
“As you wish, sweetness,” he growls, before flipping us over. Yelping in surprise, I laugh as he strips me of my clothes. He takes his time, worshipping every inch of my body, until I’m begging to come. My cock is aching so desperately, every nerve in my body is taut and ready to explode. “We’re going slow today. I’ll let you come when the only thing left in that beautiful head of yours is my name.”
“Molina!We have a plane to catch, bro.” Our catcher, AJ Copeland, is walking toward my car. We leave for LA this afternoon, and the unease I’ve been carrying since leaving Harlan in bed this morning settles deep in my stomach. He’s waiting to hear from DHS. It’s likely that he’ll get the news while I’m gone. The thought of him being alone for that call makes me want to go right back home to him. “What’s wrong?” AJ puts a hand on my shoulder. He’s a good friend. As the only other out player on the team, and one of very few in the entire league, we’ve bonded since we started playing for the Scorpions four years ago.
“Harlan may be leaving.” I know that deserves more of an explanation, but words feel hard right now. My head is a jumbled mess of ‘what if’ and ‘how’ and ‘it’s not fair.’ I hate feeling helpless, and I’ve never felt more helpless than when I kissed him goodbye today.
“Leaving, like for work?” AJ and I start toward the team’s bus with our luggage. We get closer to the rest of the players millingaround, navigating around a few guys tossing a football back and forth. I usually love the energy of the group right before we travel, but I don’t have it in me today.
“No, like they won’t renew his visa, so he would have to go back to the UK. It was never meant to be permanent, but we thought he’d at least get this last extension. DHS was supposed to call him today, but they hadn’t by the time I left to come here.” The chaos of the rest of the team loading onto the bus prevents further conversation, and part of me is grateful that I don’t have to put my broken heart on display for my friend right now.
Even though Harlan isn’t talking about it much, I can tell he’s not handling this well. He keeps assuring me that he’s ok, but I can tell by how infrequently he’s laughing and smiling that he’s been spending a lot of time overthinking everything. He’s also been going for runs in the early hours of the morning. Harlan has always loved watching the sunrise in Prospect Park on his runs, but he’s been adamant about getting up so he doesn’t miss a single one.
At night, he’s insatiable, and the sex has never been better. Our sex life has always been out of this world, but the intensity is just different. It’s as if each time he’s planning for it to be the last time. The need to talk about it is unyielding—I want to talk about it, to have a plan, but he avoids any mention of anything beyond the moment that we’re in. It’s frustrating to know that he’s trying to deal with all of this on his own. I keep telling him that we’re a team, that I want to help carry the weight of it all. We’ve both agreed that we’ll do what we can to make it work, but he’s shied away from discussing what that looks like.
The trip from the stadium to the team jet at the airport is full of typical rush hour traffic. Every hour feels like rush hour traveling from Brooklyn to Queens. Everyone is in a hurry, horns honking, people cutting each other off to get nowhere fast. I watch it all with disinterest. Once we’re on the tarmac,everyone shuffles to the plane. Normally, I’d be engaged with my teammates. This is my third team since being drafted out of college, and it's by far the closest group of guys I’ve played with. There’s very little drama, and everyone gets along well. The team owners have been big on the team being a family, and that’s what it feels like.
My own family is in Miami, so I don’t get to see them often. Before I met Harlan, I was spending the majority of the offseason with them. Since meeting him, we split our time between Miami and New York. I travel with him to photoshoots whenever our schedules allow. It’s a welcome reprieve from the constant travel of my job and the occasional travel that his job requires. We alternate holidays with our families, so some are spent in Florida and others in the UK. As complicated as our situations are, we’ve always made it work seamlessly.
When I’m settled in my seat, I pull my phone out to check for messages from Harlan. There’s nothing, but at least I’ll be able to connect to the plane’s Wi-Fi for the six-hour flight in case he gets the news while we’re in the air. I try not to dwell on the fact that I should be home with him and open our messages to send him a quick text.
Me
Hey, sweetness. We just boarded. I’ll have my phone connected to the Wi-Fi if you need me. I love you.
Lan
Love you, Dare. Safe travels.
His use of my nickname eases some of the apprehension, but not all. What started out as a joke from Julian has stuck with me through my entire professional career. It’s exhausting correcting people when they think my name is pronounced Dare-ee-o, so Iget a bit prickly when other people use the nickname. Harlan is free to call me whatever he wishes because it all sounds hot in his accent.
He’s planning to go out with Penelope tonight, so that gives me a measure of comfort that he’ll have his best friend. The distraction is exactly what he needs while I’m gone. “Fuck,” I mutter to myself. I toss my phone into my bag after setting up my playlist. Once my earbuds are in, I pull my hoodie over my eyes and hope that my ‘fuck off’ vibe is operational. As much as I want to talk to Harlan, I’m not at all interested in talking to anyone else about what’s going on.
Turns out my ‘fuck off’ vibe isnotworking. A body plops into the seat next to me, but I make no move to address whoever it is. If I had to guess, it’s AJ, or his best friend, and our shortstop, Julian Rodriguez. Not to be deterred, the unidentified person’s hand slips into my hood to pull my earbud out. “Seriously, bro?” Rodriguez, then. I roll my eyes even though he can’t see my face.
“Yeah, seriously.” I don’t turn to him, hoping he’ll go away. Jules is nothing if not persistent. He exudes golden retriever energy; his goal is to make sure everyone is happy. It’s impossible to be stern with him. It’d be like kicking a puppy.
“Dare, what’s going on?” The genuine concern in Julian’s voice has me lowering my hood. Rather than answering, I pull out a tin of chocolate chip cookies from my backpack. Harlan loves to bake for us, especially when we’re traveling, and distracting Julian for a minute will give me a second to gather my thoughts. Jules’s face lights up as he snatches the tin from my hands. “If you don’t marry that boy, I just may ask him myself,” he says around a mouthful of cookie.
Looking at him, I take a deep breath before launching into the whole situation. “Harlan’s visa extension was denied. They’re appealing it, but if they don’t get it figured out, he has to go back to the UK. L&L has already told him that they’d set himup in the London office. If they don’t approve the extension, he’s leaving in like three weeks.” I inhale, fidgeting with the strings of my sweatshirt before looking up at Julian again. “He’s been a fucking mess. He won’t talk to me about it much, like if we don’t acknowledge it, it’s not real.” AJ leans over from across the aisle, apparently having listened to the mess that my life has become. “He’s supposed to have an answer today, but when I left, he still didn’t know. I felt like shit leaving him.”
AJ, our resident fuckboy, is our relationship expert, despite how allergic he is to commitment. “You guys will figure it out. Just give him some time to go through the emotions of it, you know? You two are so solid. I can’t picture a world where you aren’t together. And maybe the appeal will get overturned, and none of it will matter.” He shrugs, ever the optimist. “But if it does happen, sit him down and come up with a plan. And spending the offseason in Europe isn’t a bad gig.”
