Marcus went back to his set, and I tried to ignore the way my pulse was hammering. This was exactly the problem. Even if Tanner wanted this—wanted me—what the fuck was I supposed to do? Bring him around the team? Introduce him as what, my friend? My roommate? The guy I’m interested in but can’t acknowledge because I’m not ready to blow up my entire life?
And Tanner wouldn’t want that anyway. Wouldn’t want to be my secret. Wouldn’t want to pretend. Even if we got past all of those issues, he’d rather eat glass than hang around a bunch of guys who lived and breathed football.
We finished the weights and headed to the practice field for a walkthrough. The sun beat down on us, September heat still lingering deep into October, and I ran routes with my head half in the game and half stuck on the impossibility of fitting Tanner into this world.
In the film room after practice, Coach broke down Saturday’s disaster, play by play. I sat in the dark with my teammates, watching replays of blown coverage and missed assignments, and all I could think about was Tanner sitting in our apartment with his headphones on, deliberately not knowing if I was okay.
How was I supposed to date someone who couldn’t even watch me play?
“Landry.”
Coach’s voice snapped me back. “Yeah, Coach?”
“You with us?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then tell me what you see in this play.”
I focused on the screen, rattled off the coverage breakdown, but my mind kept drifting. The film room felt too small. The whole building felt too small. Like my two worlds were pressing against each other, with me stuck in the middle.
After film, I showered fast and found myself walking toward the engineering building before I’d made a conscious decision to do it. My feet knew where they were going even if my brain was still arguing.
The building was mostly empty this late in the afternoon. I followed the familiar path to the third floor, down the hallway to the biomechanics lab where Tanner spent most of his free time.
The door was propped open. Through the small window, I could see him bent over a workbench, completely absorbed in whatever he was doing.
I knocked once and pushed the door open.
Tanner looked up, and for a second, his whole face transformed. The stress lines around his eyes smoothed out. His mouth curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile but was close enough to make my lungs forget how to work.
“Hey,” I said. “Thought you might be hungry.”
I held up the bag of Thai food I’d picked up on the way over. Tanner’s eyes dropped to it, then back to my face.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know. But I was getting food anyway.” I set the bag on the only clear space I could find. “And I know you forget to eat when you’re working.”
He stood, movements careful like he was testing whether his legs would hold him. “I might have missed lunch.”
“Shocking.”
We unpacked containers in silence. I should have left after handing over the food. Should have made some excuse about needing to get back. Instead, I found myself leaning against the workbench, watching Tanner’s face as he ate.
“What are you working on?” I asked.
His face lit up. Not the careful mask he wore most of the time, but genuine enthusiasm. “More impact distribution analysis on the new padding configuration. I’m trying to figure out if I can push the improvement higher by changing the density gradient between the layers.”
He pulled up a graph on his laptop, and I looked at the data without really seeing it. All I could focus on was the passion in his voice when he talked about his work. The way his hands moved as he explained the physics. The fucking irony that he was pouring his life into making football safer while hating everything the sport represented.
“That’s good,” I said when he paused. “Really good.”
“Your coursework is all athletic training, right?” he asked. “Injury prevention and rehabilitation?”
“And sports medicine. I want to work with the team medical staff eventually.”
Something shifted in his expression. He was watching me with that focused attention that made me feel seen in a way that was both uncomfortable and addictive.
