But that didn’t mean frustration didn’t spike through him when they got to the car and Trevor said to him in a voice that definitely had a smug edge to it, “I’m so glad you brought that up today.”
“You mean thatyoubrought that up today,” Lane countered, slipping into the driver’s seat. “I didn’t.” He wouldn’t have ever brought it up. Hehadn’tever brought it up, because he was never, one hundred percent certain that what he was seeing was legit. He’d never been the smartest kid in school, but he had been good at football, especially on the field.
And he’d focused on that,justthat, for a long time, but towards the end of his time at USC, he’d had a great receivers coach who’d taught him that film could expose a defense and create a play in a way that sheer physical skill couldn’t. But as a bigger guy, known for his blocking and his hits as much as he was known for catching the ball, a lot of his early tentative suggestions had been shut down hard, and once or twice, even laughed at, so he’d learned to keep his study to himself.
Aidan wouldn’t laugh at him, he wasn’t that kind of teammate or that kind of captain. But the fear lingered. What if he looked stupid? What if he was wrong?
Trevor wouldn’t understand that. He’d gotten fantastic grades in school, had even been a finalist for the Campbell Trophy, awarded to the NCAA football player with the best academics.
“No, you didn’t,” Trevor said as Lane pulled out of the parking lot, “but I don’t understand why.”
Because everyone thinks you’re smart!Lane wanted to yell, but he wasn’t going to. He was not going to lose his temper, because if he did, he didn’t know what would happen. Would Trevor still like him after that? He’d wanted and needed and hoped for this for so long, he didn’t want to be the reason that it got fucked up now.
But he also hated that Trevor was volunteering his opinions in meetings, and he couldn’t keep doing that.
“Why doesn’t matter,” Lane said gruffly.
“Yeah, it sure fucking does,” Trevor argued.
“Don’t push this, okay? I know you want to. You keep talking about it to other people, other teammates, even, and you just can’t.”
“Why the fuck not? You’regoodat this, and what you know can help the team! It helped the team today,” Trevor insisted.
Of course his words triggered the lingering guilt he’d already felt for not sharing. He could usually banish it by reminding himself that Aidan was better at it on his worst day than Lane was on his best, but then he’d been wrong today, hadn’t he? He hadn’t caught up on the miniscule physical cues the same as Lane had.
“I know, but—”
“Lane, seriously, what the fuck,” Trevor interrupted. He was beginning to sound testy, and Lane would be lying to himself if that fact didn’t freak him out.
Lane let out a hard sigh. “It worked out this time, okay? But it’s not always going to work out.”
“You don’t know that unless you share what you know,” Trevor pointed out.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Lane said. Sure, he’d gotten better at it. He could see that. Could logically acknowledge it, because it had helped him out enough times on the field over the years. Rarely did he see something and use that knowledge and discover that he’d made the wrong choice.
But that baked-in fear was so inherent, he didn’t know how to shake it. If he’d even be able to.
“You’re more than just a big pair of biceps and some killer abs, you know,” Trevor said. “You can do more than just block and then catch a ball.”
“Killer abs, huh?” Lane tried to change the subject and could tell right away that Trevor wasn’t buying it, because he shot Lane a look full of frustration.
“Don’t, okay?” Trevor retorted.
“I wasn’t—”
“Imeanit,” Trevor said.
“I know you think you do,” Lane said, still trying to stay calm—not just because he was driving, but because the fear of sharing was nothing compared to the fear of what pissing off Trevor would mean.
“I do know. I came here and I didn’t really know you at all, all I knew was the stupid facade you showed everyone, like your public face, and guess what I found out?”
Trevor was silent long enough Lane realized that he actually wanted him to know. Toask. And ugh, that was bullshit. Trevor was so cute and he liked him so much, always had, but he also had a stubborn streak a mile wide.
He could imagine his mom grinning at him about it. Saying something about a mule meeting a bull. But she wasn’t going to, because she didn’t know about this, and he couldn’t imagine telling her.
Which,thatwas a panic for another day.
Finally he gritted out an extremely reluctant, “What?”
