The way Trevor could barely look at him as they finished up in the weight room, like Lane had extinguished a light.
You’re the fucking worst, Lane told himself with vehemence.
On the car ride here, they’d talked about heading out to one of the empty fields. Running some drills. Some routes. Lane had promised to try to impart some of the collegiate wisdom he’d picked up during the last year.
But when they picked up their stuff, Trevor didn’t turn to go towards the fields, but towards the parking lot and the car.
Lane huffed out a breath, wishing he could assuage some of this fucking wretched nausea-inducing remorse. He shouldn’t have snapped. He should be better than that.
Hewasbetter than that.
“Hey,” he said, bracing himself as he caught Trevor’s arm before he could turn away entirely. He could hear his mom’s voice in the back of his head, reproachful.Raised you better than this,she’d say.Now fix this.
God, I’m fucking trying, Mom.
“What?” Trevor sounded justifiably bitchy. He shook Lane’s hand off his arm. Lane wouldn’t have blamed him if he punched him in the face. Hedeservedit.
“I—” He couldn’t say he hadn’t meant it, because hehad. He was probably never going to be able to see Trevor as a brother. That ship had sailed, before he’d even realized who Trevor was.
“Oh?” Trevor bitched. Then rolled his eyes.
“Listen, that was a shitty thing to say. I’m sorry I’m gonna be such a . . . disappointment as a brother.” They’d both be disappointed by it. Trevor because he’d probably never understand why Lane pushed him away. Lane because he had to push him away at all.
“You’re not,” Trevor argued.
Because of course he thought that. Even when he should be justifiably pissed as hell at Lane, he wasn’t.
Just another fact to add to the long list of reasons why Lane was never going to get anything he wanted: Trevor was, plain and simple, too fucking good for him.
“I really am. But at least I’m sorry about that.”
The corner of Trevor’s lips—full and flushed pink, a thought Lane shoved away almost as soon as he had it—curled up.
“Are you?”
“Yeah,” Lane said with a heartfelt nod. He dredged up a small smile, even though the last thing he felt like was smiling.
Trevor waited a long moment. “Alright,” he finally said.
“Come on,” Lane said, “let’s go run some routes. You’ll feel better if you do.”
“I don’t feel bad,” Trevor said, and that much was obvious.
No, that was just Lane. “Then it’ll makemefeel better,” he said.
Trevor smiled then, the full sunshine treatment.
It felt good, even as disastrous as that was.
“That’s a good reason,” Trevor said, because of course he did.
And after, Lanedidfeel a little better, but that probably wasn’t because anything really changed.
Trevor was still irresistibly hot. Charming and sweet andgood. Good enough thatGod, Lane was kind of dying to mess him up a little.
But you’re not going to.
No, the only reason he felt better was that by the time they were done practicing, and grabbed food on their way home, he’d decided that he was going to have to go back to California ASAP.
