The three of us make small talk about the UFC fight going down on the TV, and Brooks shows us a few photos of his daughter, who is maybe the sweetest little girl I’ve ever seen. He leaves Jayden and me alone after about fifteen minutes, and even with an entire stool empty between us, I feel the heat of assumption pouring off of the faces of everyone else in the room.
“Nobody cares, you know,” Jayden says.
I chuckle and give him a sideways glance.
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re the male. And the player. I’m . . . what did I hear someone call me the other day? Thechick coach.Yeah, the rumor that you and I hooked up hits you differently than it does me.”
Jayden puts his beer down and turns to face me, leaning one arm on the bar.
“Did you basically just tell me I’m rubber and you’re glue?”
I hold his gaze for a fraction, then we laugh.
“Yeah, I guess I did,” I admit.
Jayden looks to his left, scanning the back of Earls.
“You know, Coach never said we couldn’t be a thing,” he says, rolling his neck and returning his focus to me.
“No, he said it’s a distraction, and it clouds my judgement. And then he told me it’s probably best I work with the two guys who need the most help, and we both know neither of them is going to get their shot anytime soon.”
I say that second part a little quieter because I really like Jake, and it’s not his fault he’s fighting for a spot in a really crowded position. He also lives in a really big shadow, and it’s hard not to see the ways being Roddy McKinney’s son weighs on his playing. If he just let go of whatever it is he’s trying to prove, perhaps there’s a really talented ballplayer waiting to break free.
“Fuck it,” Jayden says, slipping from his seat to the one directly next to me.
I straighten my spine, and he chuckles, urging me to look out at the room again.
“See? Nobody cares,” he says.
For the most part, he’s right. But Coach Bastion is still glaring at me, and he leans into the pitching coach and nods my direction to make sure he’s not the only witness. The two of them chuckle.
“The people who have a say about my career notice,” I say, slipping from my seat and dropping a twenty on the bar for Daisy.
Jayden knocks back the rest of his beer and sets his glass down next to mine.
“So, how long should I wait before I follow you out of here?”
I hold his gaze for a beat, my chest tight with frustration. We’ve been taking turns at each other’s place for the last two weeks. I don’t like the way any of this makes me feel. I don’t like keeping us a secret, but I also don’t like the idle stares. And yeah, Jayden is probably right. Most of it is in my head, but some of the judgement is real. And I can’t help but feel stuck career-wise.
“I think maybe I need a night on my own. I’m not great company, I’m afraid,” I say.
The skin around his eyes smooths out, his dimple disappearing as his mouth straightens. Seeing him like this feels awful, so I loop my fingers into his. May as well give the audience something to look at.
“Are you mad that I said something to Adriel?” He quirks a brow, and I roll my eyes.
“I figured he didn’t come up with that all on his own. What did you have to promise him? A kidney?”
Jayden shakes his head, his smile faint, almost as if he’s holding back something.
“I didn’t promise him anything. I just asked that he give credit where it’s due. And to be honest, I didn’t think he’d actually listen to me,” he says through a harder laugh. His gaze drifts off to the side for a beat, and when it comes back to me, his expression has grown a little more serious.
“Those were his words, Colby. He meant them. You should know that. He meant them. And you . . . you are really fucking good at what you do.”
I fill my lungs and hold the air in for several seconds as I swim in Jayden’s attention. It is nice in here. I like the warm glow of the way he looks at me. It’s partly what makes me so angry that we still have these rules placed around us. It isn’t fair. We’ve both waited so long to simply be honest with one another, and to give in to the way we feel. And now that we have, we’re supposed to just, what . . . not express it?
“I’m heading to Chicago,” he says, and everything in my world rocks.
I blink wildly.
