our coach gave you the all-clear
we’re staying at the university heights hotel near BUC and greenwall park
you have to use the code BUCPREF5 when booking or else you’re gonna get fleeced
Awesome, I’ll book something
alright, we’re about to get ready for our game but keep me posted
“I’m doing it,” I confirm to Laura, and then I fix my attention on my laptop to book a room. My initial whiplash from seeing theprice dissolves as soon as I enter the discount code, and after paying, I check the bus schedule from campus to Boston, snagging a departure that’s in two hours.
“Are you ready?” Laura asks.
“I have a hotel and a bus, and I have to pack,” I blurt out, stuffing my books into my backpack. “Sorry to leave so abruptly, but?—”
Laura waves me off. “Don’t worry about it. Go to your man.”
I’m on it.
At home, I empty my backpack and run into the bedroom, packing two random changes of clothes. At the bed, I unplug my charger and pack that, too, and my focus creeps back to the nightstand.
One of the drawers is ajar.
It’s Ian’s sex drawer.
He says it’soursex drawer now, but I haven’t gone digging around in it or anything. Ian tried to show me a few weeks ago, but that was before we went to the cabin, when I was squeamish about anything more than a simple blowjob. He stopped as soon as I tensed up, which wasn’t my proudest moment.
Still, I pause after opening the drawer, wondering if I need to bring lube on a two-day trip and whether now is a good time to rummage through what lies behind the bottle.
Screw it. I get on my knees to take a look.
Rifling through everything, I don’t know what I was so intimidated by—there’s a box of condoms, more lube, and a couple of other things that he says he wants to use with me.
Oh, and a bag full of sturdy fabric straps. Knowing what I do now, it’s clear what they’re for, and I get boned-up as I grab it, gears turning in my head.
We’ll have our own room in Boston. Win or lose, he’s going to want to burn off some energy. He always does after a game.
Alright, it’s settled. I’m taking the restraints with me. The game tomorrow is scheduled to end early in the afternoon, andwe’ll havehoursbefore he has to go to any kind of dinner thing, if there’s even one planned.
Smiling to myself, I stuff the bag into the bottom of my backpack. It’s wild how far I’ve come in barely over three months. I’m still quieter, that’s for sure, but I went from being a clammed-up, repression-laden shell of a person to someone with a boyfriend and everything that we’ve decided will go with that label.
While there’s still more growing and learning and hard stuff left ahead for me, it’s a process. I’m stepping up, and I’m going to keep at it.
Mentally cursing myself for not booking an earlier departure, I pace around the apartment, nervous anticipation building with every little step I take, and when I’ve had enough, I run out the door and get to the bus station half an hour before I’m supposed to. At least the bus is already there, so I board and settle into my seat at the back.
It’s only then I realize it’s the same seat as all the ones I booked for the trip when I first moved here. That’s where the similarities end—this time, I’m traveling for fun.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
IAN
After what, thirteen years of baseball, I should be used to everything that comes with the game, right?
For the most part, I think I am, but getting a lungful of dust while sliding home isn’t something I ever want to get used to.
Sure, we beat Providence U, just at the expense of putting me on all fours, hacking like I hit a cigarette for the first time. It’s all for the love of the game, I guess.
I finally stop coughing and accept the bottle of water that Nick thrusts into my face, and I take a massive swig. Then, since I’m now freshly recovered, my teammates swarm me, slapping my back and pulling me in a bunch of different directions for a shot at a side hug.
