“Okay,” I said quietly. “I just… I needed to make sure you weren’t upset with me.”
“You’re good.” He let go of my wrist, and I felt the loss of contact like a physical ache. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Seth. I promise.
“I have class at nine,” he continued, not quite meeting my eyes. It felt as if both of us had been stripped raw, and he had the good sense to change the subject. “Then lab work until probably six.”
“Coach wants us in the weight room at two. Game prep after that.”
“Oh.” He stared into his coffee mug. “Right. Big day Saturday.”
The way he said it—like the word tasted bad in his mouth—reminded me exactly why this couldn’t work. Saturday meant game day. Game day meant football. And football meant everything Tanner couldn’t handle.
We stood there in the kitchen, morning light slanting through the window, not saying any of the things we were both thinking. Finally, Tanner nodded once and retreated to his room with his coffee.
I stayed in the kitchen and made myself a promise: I wouldn’t do this. Wouldn’t let myself want someone I couldn’t have. Tanner deserved better than a closeted teammate who’d fuck up his life. And I deserved better than watching someone I cared about flinch every time I mentioned my schedule.
I just had to convince my body to cooperate.
Practice was brutal.
Coach ran us through conditioning drills that had nothing to do with football and everything to do with punishment for our sloppy work last week. We’d won, but it hadn’t been pretty. By the time we hit the weight room, I was already exhausted, ribs still protesting every movement.
“You good?” Marcus asked, spotting me on the bench press. “You’re moving like shit today.”
“Still sore from Saturday.”
“That hit was nasty. Surprised you popped back up.”
I focused on the bar, pushing through the burn. “Had to. Can’t let the defense think they got to me.”
“Even when they did?”
“Especially then.”
We finished the set and switched. Marcus settled on the bench while I moved into position to spot him.
“You coming to Miller’s party Friday?” he asked.
“Probably not.”
“Come on, Landry. You’ve turned down the last three. People are starting to think you don’t like us.”
“I like you fine. Just not interested in standing around watching everyone get drunk.”
Marcus pumped through his reps, then sat up and looked at me. “Dude, I’m gonna ask you something, and you can tell me to fuck off if you want.”
My hands went still on the bar. “What?”
“Your roommate. Hunter’s friend.” He kept his voice low, glancing around the weight room. “Something going on there?”
The question landed like a hit I hadn’t braced for. “We’re roommates. That’s it.”
“Okay.” He held up his hands. “Look, man, I don’t give a shit either way. You know that, right? But not everyone on this teamis gonna be cool about it if there is something. And people are starting to notice…”
My throat went tight. “Notice what?”
“That you’re different lately. Distracted. Turning down parties to go home. It’s not hard to put together.” He wiped sweat from his face with his shirt. “I’m just saying— Be careful, Landry. You know how it is.”
Yeah. I knew exactly how it was.
