Page 4 of Hidden Plays
“Okay, so he’s obviously not playing football anymore.” He peered at me.
“During the championships, he got hit…hard.” The memory floated through my brain. A defensive lineman clobbered him midair and then fell on Holden, contorting his leg?—
“And?” Casey sipped his drink.
“He left the game and missed the rest of the championship. We lost the next game.” I pursed my lips. “He was a damn good quarterback. Cocky as hell and sort of a dick off the field, though.”
“So, do you think they revoked his scholarship because of his injuries?” Casey knitted his brows. “That would suck.”
“Yeah, I heard he broke his leg and had an ACL tear. I know he needed surgery, but that’s the last I heard.” I twisted my shake in my hands and then drank some. If it had happened to me, I didn’t know how I’d recover. Playing football was my lifelong dream, and I knew it had been his as well.
“So, what’s up between you? Like, why don’t you like him? I mean, I’m cocky too, and you still love me.” With a cheeky grin, Casey patted my thigh.
Gritting my teeth, I said, “I was supposed to get the MVP award that year. I worked fucking hard and should have had my best year. But he stopped passing to me, and my stats suffered. Then he got the award.” Heat filtered through my chest. “I think it was a pity play. He got it because of the injury. And what good did it do him if he never played again?”
“Dude, not cool.” Casey lowered his brows. “You said he was a great quarterback. Don’t be a jealous bitch.”
I pressed my lips together and stared at my drink. “I’m not. The MVP should go to guys who are not only great on the field, but who are exceptional off it. Guys who have some humility, who?—”
“So, you think he’s a dick?” Casey narrowed his eyes. “He seemed like a decent guy to me today. He was helpful and knew his shit.”
Shifting my gaze to Casey, I said, “In high school, he ran around with the popular guys, you know? The jocks who get allthe girls, the guys who run everything and have the teachers in the palm of their hand.”
“And you weren’t let into their little clique because you’re gay?” He wrinkled his forehead.
I never wanted to admit it…“Yeah, I think so.” I gulped my drink down. Casey understood. I could talk to him. “No one in my high school was outwardly shitty to me about my sexuality, but I received different treatment.”
“Yeah, I hear you. Same.” He slowly nodded. “You couldn’t break into the popular crowd because you were different, and it didn’t matter how many games you won or how well you did academically. If you liked pussy, it would have been a different story.”
“Yep.” I set my empty shake carton on the round wooden coffee table. It hadn’t been Holden’s fault, but he might have made things worse for me. Who knew what sort of bullshit he’d told his friends? “I never got along with Holden.” I swung my gaze to Casey. “Numerous times I was open, the obvious choice for a pass, and he handed the ball to our running back or tight end. I know Coach spoke to him about it several times.” Yeah, fuck Holden Cox.
“Do you think he’s secretly homophobic, maybe?” He studied me. “I mean, if he was then, it seems like he grew out of it.”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “I don’t care either.” High school was over, and it was time to forget all that shit. Throwing him a quick grin, I said, “Thanks for the shake. I’ve got some reading to do.” I stood and threw my empty container into the trash bin next to the kitchen island.
“Okay, talk to you later.” He sprawled on the couch. “I’m taking a little nap before the guys get home.”
Later that evening,Eli Dawson, one of our linebackers on defense, stood in the kitchen cooking his infamous pasta dish with chicken, artichokes and sun-dried tomatoes. It was to die for, and I couldn’t wait. I hovered over a pot and looked inside at the simmering mixture. “When will this be done?”
Eli checked the pasta bubbling in a larger pot. “When you leave me alone.” He glanced at me, his brown eyes twinkling, the dark hair on his head a messy mop.
“Fine.” I strolled into the main room where the rest of the guys waited on the sectional, reading or watching the sports channel on the television.
Casey looked up from a book. “Stop pacing and sit your ass down.” He flicked a knowing grin at Malik Thompson, our running back. “Maybe if you were getting some on the regular, you wouldn’t be so tense.”
Here we go. They were going to chide me about hookups at the gay bar again. Ever since my relationship with Myles imploded, that's all they talked about. “I’m fine on my own.” It’s not like I didn’t have orgasms, for fuck’s sake. I had my toys. They needn’t know specifics.
Malik swung his gaze from the television, studying me with his large, brown eyes, his dark hair falling to his cheekbones. The guy was big and fast. Guess that’s how they made football players in New Mexico. “Dude, I’ve got two words for you. Gay. Bar.” His smile reached his eyes.
“Jesus fuck. I knew that was coming.” With a huff, I dropped onto the end of the couch. “I had a few hookups, and I told you, they’re not for me.” Okay, one. Thanks to Casey’s app, I had one and hoped for more with him, but the guy was only interested in sex. He didn’t want a relationship.
Travis Rowlings, also known as Tex, since he was born and raised in Austin, leaned forward and planted his elbows on his knees, his blond hair falling into his blue eyes. He swiped the hair from his face. He was one of our offensive linemen and almost as big as Eli. They had a little competition going on inthe weight room. “What the hell do you have against the gay bar?”
“It’s not my scene. I’ve told you guys that.” I pursed my lips. Was I really so weird? “Everyone’s all fucking sweaty and bumping and grinding all over everyone else?—”
“So, you don’t like bodily fluids?” Casey scoffed a chuckle. “Dude, don’t you swallow? No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend.”
I stared at him for a moment. “I fucking swallow. Cum is different.” Oh, no…I’d opened myself up.
