We're in public. There are hundreds of people around us. I'm sure nobody is watching, but still. This is so intimate, anyone who catches so much as a glimpse of me and Ian would assume we’re more than friends, and they'd be right.
But do I even care? The whole team knows. What’s a few more people who I might never see again?
Ian opens his mouth, probably to ask me why I'm clamming up, but if he says anything, it doesn't register. My pulse is deafening, unrelenting, and somehow, it's also clarifying.
Idon'tcare.
Those parted lips, soft, tempting, andthere, might as well be an open invitation.
Maybe it is. I don't know, and only two words ricochet around in my head.
Fuck it.
Without another thought, I close the distance between us and crash my mouth onto his.
The buzz around us fades into nothing. Ian loves me back. He loves me and my awkward, messed-up self, and I want to show how much I appreciate having him in my life.
He doesn’t doubt me. He doesn’t stop, question, pull back, or stiffen. He gives me the lead, and I deepen the kiss, smiling through every satisfied breath he takes.
Yeah, we’re still in public, but I don’t stop myself from sneaking in a little tongue here and there. He tastes like the gum he waschewing on the field, mixed with salty ballpark, and it’s purehim. My head spins, and I know I need to take a breath soon, but I don’t want to. When Ian makes the decision for us, I have to hold myself back from grabbing onto his tongue to make sure he doesn’t go too far.
His lids droop over molten eyes, his pupils wide. “Callum, holy shit. That was amazing.”
“Was it?” I smirk at him, making those defined cheeks pinken. “But you cut us off.”
“Excuse me for breathing,” he mumbles, and he hauls me back down for more.
In the fog of the world around us, I register a few noises of acknowledgement from Ian’s teammates, and that only emboldens me to keep going. I’m living.We’reliving, free and unencumbered. Before, I told myself that I don’t care, and I was wrong. I actuallydocare about what we’re doing—I care and know that this isn’t something I’m ever going to give up. There’s no going back for me. This life, open, happy, and so right, is mine.
“Jesus, babe, save some of that heat for later,” Ian says, pulling back again and giving his teammates a cursory glance.
I do the same, and Nick sends us a friendly nod before taking another swig from his bottle, like seeing his best friend making out with another guy is the most normal thing in the world.
Outside of the bubble I grew up in, it could very well be the case.
I kiss Ian again, gentler this time, holding back on the tongue and not on the pressure. After a few blissful seconds, I release him and stare down into those beautiful hazel eyes, tracing the small, happy creases at the outer corners.
“I love you so much,” I murmur.
“Love you, too. God, saying that feels soright,” he replies.
We both take a step away from each other, and when we do, I spot someone, probably a student, wearing a lanyard and regarding us…tentatively.
She catches my gaze and clears her throat. “Hi, I’m LanaCheung, sports reporter for the BUC newspaper.” She extends her hand to us. “First off, congrats on the win, and I wanted to get your go-ahead for a social media post that includes a candid picture of you two.”
“Okay,” I say automatically. “What’s the post about?”
“It’s part of a series focusing on the game today,” Lana replies. “One of our photographers got a picture of you guys celebrating. Here, you can see.”
She turns her phone around to show us the photo, and as soon as I see it, my heart melts. It’s immaculate. We’re gazing longingly at each other, Ian looks spectacular with his backward hat and his game-winning smile, and I look like I belong. I’m caressing his jaw. He’s got a hand gripping behind my neck.
The love is so obvious, no one could miss it if they tried.
“This would be posted?” Ian asks, and Lana nods.
I take another look at the picture. It’s so good.
“I’m okay if you are,” I say to Ian.
