“I still can’t believe it,” Roxy says, watching Brock celebrate with his teammates in the end zone. “Calvin, off the market. Who knew all you needed was a good dicking to settle you down?”
“Can say the same about you.” I grab a handful of her popcorn.
She glances down at the field where Jason’s running back to position, and her whole expression softens. “Yeah. I guess so.”
It’s getting serious between them. When Brock started coming to the bar more, he brought his teammates with him. I figured we’d have to keep things on the down-low, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Turns out the whole team already knew Brock was bisexual. And those two teammates who walked into the men’s room that first night? They definitely heard us. Nobody gave a shit. They slapped me on the back and said it was about damn time their boy found someone.
Jason, the loud-mouthed linebacker, kept hitting on Roxy every chance he got. She brushed him off for weeks, but he was persistent. Showed up every Friday, sat at her section of the bar, wouldn’t let anyone else serve him. Eventually, he wore her down. She couldn’t resist that goofy grin of his any longer. Now they’re just as gone for each other as Brock and me.
“Who would’ve thought?” I look at her. “The two biggest bar sluts in the city, tamed by a couple of jocks.”
“Hey, speak for yourself,” she scoffs, but she’s smiling. “I was never that bad.”
“Please. You were ready to lose our bet to get in Brock’s pants. Remember? If he’d wanted you instead, you would’ve been the one dragging him to the cellar.”
“True,” she admits. “But I’m glad he wanted you instead.” She nudges me. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten to see you come back up all flustered and sweaty with that wet spot on your shirt. That was worth more than any hookup.”
“You’re never letting that go, are you?”
“Never.”
A whistle blows. The teams line up for the next play.
Brock glances up into the stands, scanning the crowd until his eyes find mine. He brings two fingers to his lips, kisses them, then points directly at me.
That stupid flip in my stomach, same as always. After four months, you’d think I’d be used to it. I’m not. Don’t think I ever will be.
I lean forward, hands braced like I’m gripping a bar top, and rock my hips back and forth a few times. Our inside joke from that first night at the bar. The one that always gets him going.
He shakes his head, laughing.
“Subtle,” Roxy says. “Real subtle.”
“Subtlety’s overrated.”
Brock turns back to the game, but not before adjusting himself through his uniform. Yeah, he knows what’s waiting for him when the game’s over.
Win or lose, he’s getting his reward.
And me?
I lost that bet with Roxy.
But I’ve never won bigger in my life.
The End
