For a second, he wanted to hesitate on the threshold, but he told himself he hadn’t come in here to stand a dozen feet away from where Lane was lounging against the headboard, so he walked right over to the foot of the bed.
Lane looked up from what he was looking at on his iPad.
“What’s up?” he asked.
It was terrifying, but it shouldn’t be. Not to ask for what he wanted. Not toshowLane what he wanted.
“I forgot something,” Trevor said, and firmly telling himself that Lane wouldn’t freak out and wouldn’t kick him out, put a knee up on the bed, and a second later, was leaning over Lane, brushing a kiss over his mouth.
He kept it sweet and tender, before finally pulling back.
Trevor’s heart was thumping hard, so loud he was sure that Lane could hear it.
But actually, maybe he couldn’t, because there was a look of total and utter shock on Lane’s face.
Not abadshock, but a shock nonetheless.
And okay, maybe that was fair because Trevor was a little shocked he’d wanted to do it, too.
“Was that . . . was that okay?” Trevor hated how he stumbled over the question.
Lane swallowed hard. Patted the spot next to him on the bed, and when Trevor didn’t immediately take it, looped an arm around Trevor’s waist and tugged him right down.
“Yeah,” Lane said.
Trevor waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t. Was this an invitation to stay? An invitation to spend the night in Lane’s bed? An invitation to kiss him whenever Trevor wanted to?
But instead of saying anything, Lane just leaned over and let his mouth brush his shoulder. Once and then twice.
To his own surprise, Trevor found himself settling against Lane’s warm side. Against his bigger body. It felt good.Right.
A few minutes later, Lane murmured to him, “Is this . . .” as he picked up his iPad.
“Sure,” Trevor said, expecting Lane to be watching some stupid reality TV show or maybe a sitcom.
But instead when Lane unlocked it, it was film again, but not from last week’s game, but a game they hadn’t played yet. One of the teams was one of the two possible opponents the Thunder would face after their first bye week.
Trevor watched, fascinated, as Lane watched each play multiple times, zooming in and out and making notations on the screen with a stylus. It was clear with how comfortable he was with the whole process that this was something he did all the time.
It wasn’t quite as nerve-racking to ask as it had been to come kiss Lane good night, but then that had turned out pretty good, hadn’t it? That realization gave Trevor the last little boost of confidence to ask, “Do you do this all the time?”
Lane glanced over at him. “Um. Yeah?” He hesitated. “Sometimes.”
But Trevor had a feeling that the first answer had been more accurate than the second.
“You share any of this with Aidan or Coach Zane?” Trevor asked, though he already knew the answer because Lane had been so defensive about it the first time. He just didn’t knowwhy.
Why do all this analysis and work and then keep it to himself? Lane wasn’t a selfish player or teammate, not at all.
“Before you get started, just . . . don’t,” Lane said, but he didn’t sound upset, particularly. More worried than anything else. Like he could already tell that Trevor was going to want to dig into this like a dog with a bone and refuse to let it go.
Well, he was right about that.
“Why not?”
Lane rolled his eyes and reached over, ruffling his hair again. But this time his hand just didn’t leave. Stayed, instead, sifting back and forth through the strands in an instinctive and reassuring motion that made Trevor feel warm all over.
Liked, which was kind of a revelation, because Trevor wasn’t sure he’d have said that before this moment, Lane actuallydidlike him.
