GQ: Good deal. Keep me updated. Party tomorrow night.
Me: We’ll be there.
I pocketed my phone as Brent exited the store. “Let’s go change at the car.”
“Not necessary,” he said, stripping his shirt over his head and replacing it with the new bright orange one. I held out my hand and he took it.
I shook my head but the smile on my face was stupid again.
“What did I miss?” he asked, looking confused.
“Nothing. I’ll change in the bathroom rather than here on the sidewalk. I wanted your shirt, but I’ll also hold your hand.”
“Oh.” He smiled as his cheeks pinked. When he tried to pull it away, I just tightened my grip and kissed his cheek.
When the fuck had I become a cheek kisser?
We walked hand in hand to the entrance. When we had cleared security, I found a bathroom to change in. “Don’t get in trouble while I’m gone.”
Brent snorted. “Go change. I’ll be right here.”
Nodding, I headed into the bathroom, found an empty stall, and changed into my own ugly shirt. The fucker had exchanged the one I picked out and bought me one exactly like his. Warmth crept into my chest and gave me hope convincing him to give us a real chance might not be so difficult after all. I knew he was still suffering from losing his younger brother, and I wanted to be the one to take care of him and to be his emotional support.
I exited the bathroom to find him scrolling on his phone as he leaned against the wall. One look at him made me smile. He was beautiful inside and out, and in an unguarded moment, I let myself think of him as mine. And when he looked up at me, that smile that lit up his face lit me up inside too.
“Nice shirt. Your Dmightbe better than my D.”
It suddenly occurred to me why he’d bought me one too. Laughter erupted out of me, and that alone was fucking new. I didn’t just spontaneously laugh. That shit only happened with him.
“There’s only one way to find out when we get home. Let’s go lover boy. We have work to do.”
Brent laughed and followed me into the stadium. We found some seats close enough to the players on the field to get a good look.
It didn’t take long for us to spot him. Turner wore number fifty-seven and was running drills with the rest of the defense. While we watched them go through their practice, the Pirates fan leaned into me and provided color commentary.
“That fucker has nothing on Griffin. Patrick could run circles around him. He was so good that he was hand picked to replace Jackson Kincaid when he retired. Greer went all out to get Patrick.”
“I thought he wanted to play for Portland?”
He nodded. “He did. But no one knew that he and Cole were together until he said something to Foster when he and Coop were having a rough time.”
I turned to look at him. “How do you know all this shit?”
Brent turned that electric smile on me. “It’s my superpower. And I listen when people talk. When you’re not partnered up, you learn a lot.”
“Guess you’re going to have to find another superpower now.”
The rapid whistles on the field caught our attention as we looked down to find two players pushing and shoving.
“A hundred dollars says one of them is Turner. He’s a dick like that.”
I nodded and leaned into him. “Get a video of this. It might help their case.”
Brent hurried and got his phone to record the coaches and other players pulling them apart. Turner was red faced and screaming at his teammate. And when it was all over, he went toward the Rush entrance to the locker room.
“Let’s go down there and wait. You can stop him for an autograph when he comes back out.”
Brent stood and I followed as he led us through the stadium. He pulled out his phone and made a call.
