Page 57 of Perfect Storm
“Hey,” Ramsey said, glancing at him, because Aidan had clearly tensed up, “are you alright? I don’t have to—”
“No, tell me,” Aidan said forcibly. Maybe absorbing Ramsey’s semi-offensive opinions about his reputation would distract him from Levi.
Ramsey shrugged. “Nothing bad. Just serious. Intense. Works hard. Never takes a break. No fun.” He grinned then. “But you’re kinda fun, actually.”
“Don’t tell him that. It’s just gonna go to his head, and his ego’s already big enough,” Levi said.
Aidan wondered if he was imagining the way Levi’s gaze narrowed at Ramsey’s arm rested so casually around Aidan’s shoulders.
He shouldn’t want Levi to be jealous. That would be petty and childish and ridiculous.
But he wanted it, anyway.
“My ego’s the perfect size,” Aidan said, adopting the smug tone that everyone believed came easily to him, but didn’t quite sit as comfortably on him as they thought.Fake it til you make it, or something.
“Oh, it is, baby,” Levi teased.
Ramsey’s eyebrows crept up, and for a second breathless moment, Aidan thought maybe he’d figured it out. Not that there wasanythingto figure out. He and Levi were teammates. Friends. Co-stepbrothers-in-law or something like that.
But Aidan caught Ramsey’s knowing look as they headed out towards the door, and Aidan wasn’t quite sure thatwasall they were. Not anymore.
Chapter 9
Preseasonwasapainin Levi’s ass.
He likedplaying. He liked being on the field, actually affecting the outcome of the game. He also liked game outcomesmattering, and this one was totally fucking meaningless.
But then, that wasn’t entirely true.
To Wes, who was starting the game. To Ross, who was fighting for his fucking life out there, in the trenches. To all the other guys struggling to make the fifty-two-man roster, this game was everything.
It was just nothing to Levi, and he wasbored.
That seemed like a good enough reason to bother Aidan. Especially because every single time he did it, his golden-brown eyebrows slammed together and he looked like he wanted to pin Levi to the bench behind them and shut him up with his mouth.
Obviously Aidan wouldn’t do that. Hecouldn’tdo that. But the fantasy was stimulating and distracting, a nice hot departure from watching this boring-ass game.
Aidan said something into the headset he was wearing—he wasn’t even dressed for the game, wouldn’t play until the second game, and then probably only a single series—about the coverage.
“Wes is playing great,” Levi said, nudging him.
Aidan looked over at him. Covered the microphone on his headset. “Can I help you?” he asked, sounding half fond, half exasperated, which Levi had discovered was the perfect Aidan-balance.
Levi shrugged. “Heis.”
“Yes,” Aidan said, pursing his lips. “Lucky Wes. Ten years younger and a hell of a lot more able to run for his life.”
Wes had made more than a handful of great throws on the run, because as Levi had expected, the hard work and going back to basics had not magically turned back the clock on Ross’ skills.
“You could do that, still,” Levi said. He’d seen Aidan work out. He’d seen Aidan practicing, now. Was intimately familiar with what he was capable of.
“Yeah, sure, but I don’twantto be doing that,” Aidan said.
“I’m gonna fix it,” Levi said confidently. He was going to corner Coach Ned after the game and tell him to put him on left tackle. Especially for the next game. Surely Ned had seen everything he needed to with Ross.
He wasn’t getting the job done; he wasn’tgoingto get the job done.
Aidan shot him a sideways look—full of doubt. “Yeah, Acker’s just gonna move to the right, no big deal.”
