Page 13 of Hidden Plays
“Boys, what’s the problem here?” Coach Bowden stepped toward us, his gaze flicking between us.
Holden hung his head. “Nothing. I’m taking him to the back to assess his IT band.”
“Good, I think that’s a fine idea.” Coach patted my shoulder. “Great job on the touchdown, Matthews, but you go ahead now.”
Son of a bitch. “Of course, Coach.” Throwing another glare at Holden, I followed him toward the tunnel as the whistle blew to end the first half.
Inside the medical room,I sat on a therapy table. As Coach Reid’s stern voice filtered in from the locker room, I said, “I told you I’m fine. It’s not hurting at all.” If he pulled me from the game, I swore?—
“Lie on your back.” Holden grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and came at me.
Rolling my eyes, I fell onto my back, lifting my legs onto the table. Pain sliced through my side. Damn it, why now?
He pressed the ice pack to my hip and said, “Stretch the leg across your body with your knee bent. Let’s see if you can.”
“No problem.” I did as he asked and winced as my hip pinched. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Not now! “That asshole had no business jumping on me.”
“I know.” He rubbed the heel of his hand down the outside of my thigh, stretching the muscle. “How does this feel?”
Glaring at the ceiling, I said, “Okay.” No, really damn good.Too good. My skin tingled, and my dick twitched. As my gaze met his, my mind replayed him in tight shorts and a crop top. Goddamn it, football. Think about football.
Focusing on my mouth, he bit his lower lip and then peered at my leg. “You’re really tight here.” He worked his fingers into the edge of a thigh muscle.
“That’s what all the guys say.” I snickered. That’d fix him.
“Jesus Christ.” He dipped his head and freed a soft snort. “I didn’t think you’d be a bottom.”
“I’m not. I’m vers.” I shifted my head on the table. How familiar was he with gay terms? “I’m open to almost anything with the right guy.”
“Yeah?” With his brows twitching, he pushed on my knee, stretching the IT band and it relaxed, the ache dissipating. “What type of guys are the right ones besides hockey players?”
“I don’t know. Guess I like muscular guys, jocks.” I focused on his plump lips, now a redder hue.
“Yeah? I’m muscular, but you said I wasn’t your type.” He slid his hand up my thigh, massaging the muscles and inching inward. “This entire leg is tight. Your other muscles are compensating for the injury.”
Shit…As heat built in my belly, my cock swelled. He was giving me a fucking boner in my football pants. The damn things left nothing to the imagination. “Don’t you think that’s enough? I need to go hear what Coach Reid is telling the team. I can take the ice pack with me.”
He straightened my leg onto the table and his brows snapped up. “Um…” He stared at my now hard dick, stretching toward my hip. “I uh…” His tongue darted over his lower lip and his face reddened all the way to his ears. “I don’t know what to say.”
Awkward as fuck. “Hazard of the job?” My dick had lost its tiny mind. Freeing a stuttered chuckle, I sat up. “I’m gay and your hands were in places only my hookups or boyfriends go.” I gave him my best innocent grin.
He stepped back, clearing his throat and staring at the floor. “Yeah, go ahead. I think you’ll be okay. I’ll, um, let the team doc know…” Planting his hands on his hips, he raked his teeth over his lower lip. “Know you’re okay.” His gaze crept to me and shifted away.
Dude couldn’t even look at me now. “Fine, but we’re still on for tonight, right?” I threw my legs over the side of the table and carefully put weight on them. I didn’t want to undo whatever his massage had done for me.
“Yeah, sure.” As he peeked at me from under his blond bangs, he adjusted himself.
What the hell? I glanced at his groin, his dick bulging through the thin team joggers. He wasn’t hard, but he sure looked bigger than normal. No fucking way. “Okay, see you out there.” I snatched the ice pack and hurried toward the locker room. I didn’t know what had just happened, but I wouldn’t unpack it now.
We won the game,with me scoring yet another touchdown. I’d set up to meet Holden at the street corner on Mill, where the bar was located. As I strolled along the sidewalk, past bars and restaurants with people spilling out of them, I glanced at the cars crawling along. This place was always hopping at night. In the reflection of a window, I assessed my outfit for tonight—short shorts and a sheer white top, which showed off my physique.
Ahead of me, glass high-rises towered over the two-and three-story brick buildings along this older section of town, the streetlamps looking like something from the turn of the century. ‘A’ Mountain rose between buildings, the enormous letter lit for the evening. They had painted the thing a million times. Whenever we played our rival, U of A, the bastards painted it in their colors, but now it was white.
I strode beneath the metal stairs to the bar where men linedup. I wasn’t one for packed and loud bars of any kind. I preferred quieter places, like the wine bar down the street. But whatever, I would get this over with.
Holden stood on the corner with his hands in the front pockets of some tight jeans. Damn, he’d taken what I’d said to heart. The cut of his t-shirt exposed his arms and midriff, showcasing his stomach muscles, and his hair flowed in perfect waves from his face. The guy was gorgeous. I had to give him that.
His gaze caught mine, and a smile teased his lips before he dipped his head.
