But that was alot. So much the strength of Lane’s desire for it surprised even him. There was no way he was going tosayany of that out loud. Not to Trevor.
“Eh,” Lane said. “Kinda tired, if I’m being honest.”
Trevor smiled, luminous in the dim room, like he carried his own light source with him. “Me too. You just want to stay in tonight? You can help me more with my puzzle.”
Before this, Lane would’ve rather pulled out his own fingernails, but instead he smiled at Trevor and answered, so easily, “Sure.”
Trevor didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, rested and settled, he was surprised and alsonot, that Lane’s arm was curled around him.
However, Lane wasn’t asleep. He was propped up against the headboard, watching something on his iPad with the sound off.
Trevor shifted, trying to see the screen, and caught a second of the video before Lane looked over and reflexively shut it off.
“Hey,” he said, and moved his arm before Trevor could stop him again.
“I guess I fell asleep,” Trevor said, struggling to get his brain back online.
“Passed right out,” Lane agreed, sounding more fond and way less judgmental than Trevor might’ve expected.
“But not you?”
Lane just shrugged and set the tablet over on his bedside table. “Nah. I wasn’t that tired. Didn’t put the work in today, not like you.”
He’d brought it up, so Trevor stretched and then looked over at him. “You were watching film from the game.”
He watched as Lane opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. He’d wanted to argue about it, clearly, but what Trevor didn’t understand waswhy.
Sure, he hadn’t handled the criticism very well mid-game, but he’d been open to coaching and commentary onplentyof other occasions.
Of course, it had also been a point of contention between them. Lane could be patronizing and an asshole about lots of things, things that Trevor didn’t even know. And if he didn’tknowthem, it was impossible to even realize how fucking clueless he was, right before he embarrassed himself.
“Yeah,” Lane finally said. “So?”
Trevor told himself to stay calm. To notcareif Lane thought he’d fucked up, but that was a hard ask, because he did. Probably too much.
“Why?” Trevor asked hesitantly.
“Oh wait, you think I was watchingyourplays?” Lane shrugged. “I wasn’t.” And like he was proving it, he grabbed the iPad and, after unlocking it, handed it to Trevor.
Trevor sat up more in bed, suddenly and uncomfortably aware that he was still naked.
But then, Lane was too. Unabashedly, lounging in bed with not a stitch on. Frankly, Trevor couldn’t blame the guy, because if he looked that good, he might never wear clothes, either.
It would look weird if he went for clothes now. Besides, maybe Trevor didn’t lookthatgood, good enough that he’d be interested in a second round, but he still looked pretty dang good.
Instead, he looked at the video that Lane had been watching, and immediately got sucked in. It was a play from the middle of the third quarter, a running play actually, where Trevor had blocked.
Trevor rewound to the beginning and realized that Lane had actually been making notations on the screen, little marks and arrows, indicating blocking patterns.
This was definitely not something that Trevor realized he did, and not something that even fell into Lane’s purview. He was a tight end, and hedidblock, sure, but he was hardly sitting in on offensive play calling meetings, with Aidan and the offensive coordinator, Zane, figuring out what had worked and what hadn’t, and what they could tweak to work better.
He watched it once, then twice, and then a third time. But no, definitely those were marks that indicated blocking. Even suggestions that might lead tobetterblocking. Trevor didn’t always follow all the intricacies of play design, but he could tell that much.
“Whatisthis?” Trevor asked, waving the iPad towards Lane. “I’ve never seen you go to one of those offensive meetings where Aidan spends hours arguing with Zane over what plays they should be running?”
“I think Aidan would call those debates and not arguments,” Lane said dryly, acting like Trevor wasn’t going to notice that he hadn’t answered the question.
“He probably would,” Trevor agreed, “but—”
