Trevor came up to him a moment later, and Lane was grateful, at least, that he’d missed that conversation.
Wasn’t it enough that he’d stuck his neck out on Sunday? That he’d made sure they got at least one touchdown? Even paving the way for the second?
Apparently not.
“Why are you glowering?” Trevor asked, handing him his coffee.
That was a fair question. Trevor had no idea what Lane had been thinking last night, what he’d been holding back, waiting for the perfect moment that never seemed to come. As far as Trevor was concerned, they’d recovered well from the initial venue mistake and had a really good night. A good morning, too, frankly.
“Aidan’s being bossy,” Lane said.
“Oh, so like normal,” Trevor said, nudging Lane as he followed him into the room.
“Pretty much.” Lane hoped that Trevor would leave it there, but of course he didn’t. This was Trevor; Lane shouldn’t have expected anything else, frankly.
“He wanting to know why you haven’t been speaking up in meetings this week?” Trevor asked.
“Seriously?”
“I notice things,” Trevor said. Shot him a smug smile, leaning close, like he was only a breath away from kissing Lane, right before their biggest meeting of the day. “Especially things about you.”
“You don’t quit that, everyone’s gonna know what’s going on,” Lane hissed.
Trevor just raised an eyebrow. “And they don’t already?”
“I mean, they probablysuspect,” Lane admitted.
If Aidan had guessed, then they’d probably hit an open-secret kind of situation. But Trevor didn’t look even remotely bothered by this.
“Actually, I was kind of thinking, I’d be okay telling people. Cam and Jordan know. I’m sure you’ve told Nate—” But Trevor didn’t even seem to register Lane’s wince at that. “I don’t want to pretend we’re not doing exactly what we’re doing.”
“It’s still early,” Lane said, not because he didn’t want to tell people but becauseGod, it made it all so serious and so real. Impossible to go back from. But then, wasn’t he already there? HelovedTrevor. Had loved him for so fucking long. It was ludicrous to imagine that he could touch him and kiss him andbewith him, and ever go back from it.
“Oh please,” Trevor scoffed. “It’s notthatearly. I’m not going anywhere. And I know you’re not.”
“If you’re sure,” Lane said. He wasn’t sure when they’d segued from Lane not speaking up and sharing his opinions in the meetings to telling the team about their relationship, but it said a lot about how the latter was somehow a much easier subject than the former.
“I’m sure,” Trevor said. Shot him a mischievous grin. “And I’malsosure that you should be opening up that big brain of yours and sharing every single freaking thought you’ve had about thePatriots, because winning on Sunday was great and I wanna do it again.”
Trevor’s smile was so bright, it was almost impossible to deny. Even if he was made of stronger stuff, Lane wouldn’t evenwantto.
He wanted to be the last team standing, at the end of the game. He wanted to win one more after that. Wanted them to find themselves surrounded by confetti and kissing on one of the biggest stages in sports.
“Okay,” he found himself saying. “We’ll do it again.”
Trevor tipped his coffee and hit it against Lane’s. “Then we’ll do it again,” he said.
Somehow that promise made it not only easier to focus in on the film and the analysis that Coach Zane was providing, Aidan interspersing comments every so often, but to speak up himself when the moment came that he saw something that it didn’t seem anyone else saw.
“I think,” he said hesitantly, “when the Patriots shift there, the double–tight end formation might be really effective.”
Zane pursed his lips—Lane didn’t dislike him, but the offensive coordinator’s matter-of-factness, a thing that he might normally appreciate, freaked him out in this kind of situation; made him wonder if he was wrong, and in speaking up, he’d made himself look stupid—but then slowly began to nod.
“I can see it,” Zane said, and Aidan agreed, getting to his feet and pointing to a few of the gaps that the Patriots’ defensive coverage exposed. Gaps that they could maybe even widen with the right formation. Specifically, with the right tight end formation.
After they’d discussed all the angles to Lane’s suggestion, Zane moved on, but Trevor reached over and put his hand on Lane’s thigh. Squeezed and shot him a small smile.
He didn’t say anything, but Lane’s brain—and his heart—filled in all the blanks.Proud of you. Good job. You’re awesome. I love you, too.
