“I know what I want, Lucas—I don’t want to lose you.”
“I’m here.” What else is there? As long as Hunter wants me, this is exactly where I’ll be. “Look up,” I tell him, lifting my arm. “Can you see the stars?”
“Yes.”
“I’m writing in them for you.” I move my fingers.
“Like that night on the roof.” He’s quiet, emotional. “What does it say?”
“I’m here,” I tell him again. “And beat motherfucking Kansas City tomorrow night.”
Hunter chuckles. “I will.”
*
I’m glued tothe television the whole game. Isla comes over to watch with me, laughing and teasing me about how obsessed I am, like any good friend would.
Hunter plays his best game of the season. All the sports commentators can talk about is the Comeback King. Not considering how it might feel to those who lost Ellis, they bring him up constantly, talk about how unique Hunter’s story is, how close he is to the Blake family, being in love with Ellis Blake Sr.’s son, and how Hunter broke down barriers for queer players in the league. There still aren’t many out, and there’s homophobia and shitty fans and players, but any time inclusivity or queer players are brought up, they always mention Hunter and Ellis.
Which they did, but it’s not fun to hear about—a reminder of the stories we’d hear if this ever did come out.
The Pulse win, and I’m immediately on my feet, cheering about a football game in a way I never have in my life. I feel his excitement, his pure fucking joy as he jumps on Oakley’s back, the two of them cheering together.
Does this win mean as much to Hunter as it does to me? Because it’s not like a normal game, not with the way my heart is thumping in my throat, my body jittery as if little pulses of electricity are shooting through me. As wild as it sounds, this feels like it means something, like it’s somehow beating my father…for me, which is ridiculous and definitely a lie I’m telling myself.
“Fuck you, Ellis Blake Sr.,” Isla says, making me laugh.
God, I want them to meet. Want her to know Hunter, and for him to know Isla.
“Yeah, fuck him.” I flop back onto the couch, resting myhead on her shoulder. “This is going to break me, isn’t it, Is?”
She sighs. “Maybe, but also maybe not. Whatever happens, you’ll be okay.”
“He’s Ellis’s.”
“Ellis is dead.”
“He was Ellis’s first.”
“Time of possession doesn’t matter, and even if it did, it matters less who had him first than who gets him forever.”
I hope like hell she’s right. “You know that’s a football term, right?” I tease, and Isla rolls her eyes.
“Wanna go out and have a smoke?” she asks.
“Nah, I’m good.”
We hang out a little while before she has to go. I’m only alone for a bit when my phone beeps with a text, and I know without looking who it is.
Hunter: We’ll be back in LA late…can I come over?
Me: I’m counting on it. After the way you played tonight, you deserve a reward.
A very, very sexy reward.
I give him the code to get into the building and let him know my door will be unlocked, to let himself in.
Hunter: I can’t wait.
