Page 66 of Playing Rough

I nod, wishing I’d been more aware of what coming out could drag up for my teammate. "Thanks for the insight, Deck. We'll be sensitive to what he's dealing with."

The coffee shop door swings open again and two girls step out, deep in conversation. Deck glances at his watch. “I better run or I’ll be late for class. But we’re good, yeah?”

“We’re good,” I confirm.

Deck smiles. "Glad to hear it." He heads off with a final wave.

London exhales once he’s out of earshot. “Well, shit. Now I feel like an ass for not realizing Knight might be struggling.” He scrubs a hand through his hair. “I should’ve picked up on it.”

“We both should have. But now we can give him the space he needs.” I take London’s hand, weaving our fingers together. “It’ll work out. Just gotta be patient.”

The tension in London's shoulders eases. “Yeah, you’re right. With time, he’ll—”

“London!”

A voice calls out from across the quad, bright and enthusiastic. We both turn to see a skinny teen hurrying over, smiling wide. He's the spitting image of London—same golden blond hair and bright hazel eyes.

“Leo?" London blinks in surprise. "What’re you doing here, little bro?”

Leo bounds up to us, practically vibrating with excitement. “Mom let me take the car up for the day! Finally got my license last week.”

“No shit?” London grins, tugging Leo in for a quick hug. “Look at you, all grown up.”

Leo beams, puffing out his chest. “Yep, I'm official now. She was worried about me driving alone, but I promised I'd take it slow and stick to the highway.”

I can't help but smile watching the two brothers together. Leo idolizes London; it's clear in the way his eyes shine when he looks at his big brother.

London ruffles Leo's hair affectionately. “Just glad you made it in one piece. We were just heading to grab some lunch if you want to join.” He glances at me. “That cool with you, Riot?”

“For sure.” I like Leo and now that I’m staying in London’s life, I want to get to know him better.

Leo lights up. “That'd be awesome! I'm starving after the drive up.”

We settle on sandwiches at a deli near campus. Leo chatters the whole walk about how school’s going and how he convinced their mom to let him get behind the wheel.

“She made me send her photos at every stop,” Leo explains through a mouthful of pastrami. “I was like, chill woman, the highway’s a straight line!”

London chuckles. “Hey, driving’s a big deal. She’s just looking out for you.” A complicated mix of emotions flits across his face—nostalgia, protectiveness, pride.

It’s clear he wants the best for Leo, even if their upbringings were worlds apart. Leo’s innocence and enthusiasm are magnetic.

Eventually Leo turns the conversation to us. “So London, are you guys officially together now? I figured since Christmas...”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively and London flushes. I bite my lip, fighting a laugh at the memory of Leo walking in on us in a compromising position on the couch. That was real fucking uncomfortable.

London clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, yeah. It’s still pretty new, but we're trying this whole dating thing out.”

Leo grins. “I knew it! You’ve got a boyfriend. Mom owes me ten bucks.” At my raised eyebrow, he adds, “We may have had a bet going about when you guys would stop being dumb and admit you’re together already.”

I bark out a laugh as London hides his face in his hands with a groan. “Unbelievable. My own family’s been talking about my love life behind my back.” But his voice is filled with warmth underneath the mock indignation.

“We just want you to be happy, bro.” Leo grins. “And Riot clearly makes you happy. Anyone can see that.”

Warmth swells in my chest at Leo's words. What a complete difference from the way my father reacted when he found out. I blow out a breath as the twisting in my stomach settles. However we navigate everything else, it means the damn world to me that London's family already accepts us together.

I know my own parents are gonna require some tough discussions when the time comes to face them again. My dad thinks I need conversion therapy, so fuck him. And my mother—hell, on a good day she can barely string two words together through the haze of whatever she's drinking.

They won't get it. Won't see how London challenges me, calls out my bullshit, and makes me want to be better. How his loyalty and passion fill the holes left gaping and empty from the dysfunction I grew up in.

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