Page 76 of Running With Lions

Panic rams into Sebastian’s chest when Emir goes quiet. He’s prepared to retreat, but then Emir says, “Me too. Just not here, okay?”

“Okay.”

Sebastian is still on edge, though. He’s not freaking out, but the pressure is real. It’s not like trying to figure out a math problem, but he wants to get it right. This isn’t just sex. Sebastian’s not tossing this in the “summer fling” pile. This is a bigger deal than being with Sam or with anyone else.

They kiss again, and Sebastian relishes Emir’s shiver when he pulls away.

“Wow.” Emir exhales.

Sebastian stares at Emir’s eyes. They’re dark, hidden by shadows, and that makes it slightly easier for Sebastian to ask, “Have you ever…?”

“Yes.”

Sebastian’s picturing a faceless, but very attractive, guy touching Emir. His stomach churns with acid. He says, “Cool.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Emir says, as if he can read Sebastian’s every thought.

Sebastian’s lips are raw. He licks them as his fingers trace patterns on Emir’s skin. Tony Stark is blowing things up behind Emir’s shoulders.

“We’ll figure it out,” Sebastian says, because tonight isn’t the end of camp or the end of the world. He stretches his neck for another kiss.

22

Last summer, Mason Riley wason top of the world. He’s been the undisputed best attacker on the Lions’ squad since sophomore year; he started every game. His grades were passing, students adored him, and scouts lined up with pamphlets on why their schools are the best fit for him. His thing with Val was normal; normal forthem. Also, he wasn’t hurting for hookups during the school year. Mason was never lonely.

Something has changed.

Mason whispers, “She broke up with me.”

It’s an especially quiet Saturday evening, so Sebastian doesn’t have to strain to hear him. They’re hip to hip on a bench outside the ice cream shop. Mason wasn’t in the mood for burgers with the guys, and Sebastian had no interest in catching the Will Smith flick playing at the drive-in. It’s moments like this he misses during the school year.

Mason works a part-time job at the mall in the off-season. Most of his money goes to helping his mom with bills. A slacker during the soccer season, Sebastian spends his downtime catching up on classes. They share Saturdays at Starbucks and the occasional Hughes family barbeque; Lily Hughes is a good PTA, bake-sale, life-of-the-party kind of mom.

Evenings like this, shooting the shit and talking about soccer, music, whatever, under a bright pink and blue sky, are important to Sebastian.

Sebastian nudges his sneaker on the pavement. “She did?”

Mason glares at Val, who’s near the diner with her friends and a handful of visiting college guys. “I haven’t told anyone,” he says. His hands are clenched in his lap.

“Yeah, okay.”

An unspoken rule exists between bros: No questions about love-life-shit unless prompted. Sebastian respects the rule, but he’s curious about what the hell went down between Mason and Val. He’s been letting Mason deflect for weeks, but now the cracks in his armor of silence are discernible.

“She ended things after last season.” Mason’s mouth goes tight. “She thought it was time for her to be serious about life, and that I’m never serious aboutanything. It was kinda rank.”

Sebastian scratches his temple, giving Mason space to talk.

“She’s right, though.” Mason winces, and Sebastian does too. He’s about to protest, but Mason laughs, dryly. “It’s cool; I can take it. I should’ve been serious about her, but I wasn’t.”

Sebastian met Mason a month before he met Willie, a week after Emir left, and that has created a sense of loyalty. But he still says, “She’s a damn good girl, Mace,” because he believes it, because she deserved more than Mason gave.

Mason nods. “Part of me is over it,” he says, frowning now. “But it messes with my head, bro, like full-on brain damage.”

Sebastian’s afraid Mason will shut down if he hugs him. He punches Mason’s arm.

“I’m not as good as I want to be,” Mason says, slouching. “Mom keeps telling me she’ll be fine, whenever I go away for college, she’ll be fine. But Ican’t.”

“Join the club,” says Sebastian, slumping forward. His elbows dig into his knees. “We’re a mess.”

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