CHAPTER 31
brEVAN
Imiss exercise when I haven’t hit the gym in a while. Practice this week has made me feel lazy. It’s like the week off in Iceland has drained all the strength I used to have. I feel slow.
This gives me anxiety because my position relies on my being fast. And thus, I’ve been spending every last waking moment on the damn treadmill or sprinting down the field to regain my speed.
Not that I know if it’s helping. I guess to know if I’m improving or falling behind, I’d have to pay attention to a run time or something.
“Skeet!”
I look up from where I’m jogging on the elliptical. Franklin, Horace, Lane, Wulfe, and Norman pile into the gym.
“Dude, I’m mad at you,” Horace says, crossing his arms.
My eyebrows knit together as I hit the pause button with my palm. I grab the towel and wipe the sweat from my face. “Why?”
“You didn’t tell us you were invited to the draft,” Horace says.
“Oh.” He’s right. I hadn’t. I’d been so damn excited after my agent, Angelina, called that I called Kendrick to share the news. Then I wondered if I’d have to go alone, so I called Cody to see if he could manage to get some time off for a few days and come to the draft with me. He said he’d try.
Then I asked Coach Lemon if he’d come with me.
He agreed. I’ve been debating about asking Kendrick.
I want him to be there more than anything.
But the draft is broadcast on national television.
There’d be no way to hide. But more than anything, more than anyone, I want Kendrick with me. I want to share this moment with him.
This is the thought that’s been consuming me for the past several days. I don’t want to put pressure on him, but I also don’t want him to think I don’t want him there. What’s the right answer? Am I selfish if I ask him to come anyway?
Always worrying about something.
“Sorry. I was invited to the draft.”
Horace rolls his eyes. “Seriously, man. That’s fucking epic. Why aren’t you shouting it from the damn roof?”
“I would be,” Wulfe says. He leans into Lane’s side.
I love seeing them together. I can probably count on one hand all the times I’ve had an inkling of wanting a relationship, and it’s usually when I see them together. They’re besties. Roommates. Lovers. They’re everything, and I think it’s amazing.
And now I have that.
The whisper in my head makes me smile. Well, maybe not just like that, but I have something that’s mine. Something that feels just as big and perfect.
“Earth to Brevan,” Franklin says, laughing. “Seriously, dude. What has you so caught up in your head lately?”
“I, uh… didn’t realize I was.”
“You’re always a little distracted when we’re not on the field, but I swear, I had an entire conversation with you yesterday, and I don’t think you heard a word,” Franklin says.
“Did I even see you yesterday?”
Franklin gives me a demure expression while the others laugh.
“You really know how to leave an impression,” Norman says, shoving Franklin.
“Seriously, I’m touched,” Franklin deadpans as he looks at me.
I wince. “Sorry. I guess you’re right. I’m distracted.”
“So distracted that you’re not screaming in excitement for being invited to the draft,” Wulfe says.
Sighing, I drop to the bench where my water bottle is and take a long drink. “I meant to share. I told my brother and Coach and then… I was debating whether I wanted to ask the guy I’m seeing to come with me.”
Chaos breaks out as all five guys begin talking over each other. I lean backward, feeling as if they’re closing in on me. “Whoa,” I say, putting my hands up. “What are you angry about?”
“We’re not angry,” Lane replies as Norman says, “You’ve been keeping so many secrets.” And Franklin says, “Dude, if you weren’t interested, why didn’t you tell me to back off?”
I’m not sure where to look at this point. Who do I answer? Maybe the question instead of the statements.
“I didn’t know I needed to tell everyone I wasn’t interested in them,” I say.
“Ah, Brev,” Norman says, shaking his head. “You’re too cute, you know that? We need to protect you at all costs.”
I have a feeling that’s along the same lines as my dad saying I was a defensive line short of a football team. My eyes drop to my hands.
Wulfe drops onto the bench beside me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. He pulls me close and kisses my cheek. “That wasn’t an insult, but I think maybe you took it that way.”
“No.” I shake my head. It just means I’m not smart. I get it.
“We love that you’re adorably oblivious when people flirt with you, Brevan. You have no idea what a catch you are, and it shows, which makes you even more beautiful. It’s less cute, however, that the reason is a reflection of your self-confidence.”
“Specifically, your lack of self-confidence,” Horace says.
“I’ve never understood why people can’t be straightforward and just say when they’re interested,” I complain. “I hate flirting. I don’t understand it. There’s too much room for interpretation.”
“I’m sorry,” Franklin says. “I guess I thought I was being obvious, but knowing you, I should have known better.”
“We’ll point it out going forward, okay?” Wulfe says. “Anytime someone is flirting with you in our presence, we’ll say something. Maybe a code word like… pass. What do you think?”
“I feel dumb,” I mutter and cover my face with the towel.
It’s pulled from my hands, and Lane grips my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. Mine widen at his severe look. “You are not dumb, Brevan Skeeter. Don’t let me hear you say that again.”
I swallow and nod.
“Goddamn. No wonder you’re smitten, Wulfe. That’s hot,” Horace says, fanning himself.
Wulfe smirks but doesn’t comment.
Lane is still staring at me, maybe making sure I understand. “Okay,” I whisper.
He releases me and takes a step back.
“The reason you don’t realize it’s happening isn’t a reflection on you so much as the fact that people have such a damn issue with rejection.
You tell someone no or that you’re not interested, and their response isn’t a simple ‘okay, cool,’ it’s ‘wow, you thought I wanted you.’ Or something like ‘whoa, dude, I’m not into guys,’” Lane says.
“The world has created such fragile people that a simple ‘no’ is seen as a projectile, and it’s gross.
You struggle with reading people, and this only adds to the confusion, especially when you combine that with your lack of self-confidence. ”
“Is that why?” I ask. “People can’t accept a simple no, and so they turn it around in some way?”
“Oftentimes becoming defensive, mean, or even aggressive—yes,” Horace says.
“Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.”
“For the record, I accept that you’re not interested, Brevan,” Franklin says. “And I’m not going to be any of those things. I’d rather still be friends than try to make you out to be a villain just because I have a thing for you and it’s not returned.”
I wince, but Franklin is still smiling.
“That right there, that feeling, is the problem. There’s some weird stigma in the world that we have a right to someone’s affection and attraction. As if we’re owed it in return if we feel it toward someone. We don’t,” Lane says.
“I guess I’ve always had other things to think about, and understanding people hasn’t been high on my priority list,” I admit. “I’m sorry that I didn’t take the time to understand you guys, though. That’s not a good friend.”
“You still have a lot on your mind. The time you spend distracted proves that,” Norman says. “Want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “I’m excited for the draft. I am. So excited. It’s the biggest thing that’s ever happened to me. I want to share it with someone, but… I’m not sure I can.” Apparently, I wanted to talk about it after all.
“Someone specific,” Franklin says.
I nod. “Yeah. Sorry. Someone specific. He’d want to come. He probably would. But… I don’t think he should.”
“Question—is this someone you’re seeing or someone you want to date?” Lane asks.
“I’m seeing him.”
“Okay, then I’m going to point out that maybe not asking him to come with you might make him feel bad because of how big this is for you.”
My breath catches as alarms blare in my head. They sound strangely like Corwin’s alarm. “What?”
“Easy,” Lane says. Wulfe’s arm tightens around my shoulders. “I’m not… okay, I think you should at least have this full conversation with him. Make sure he knows you want to share this big thing with him, but tell him your concerns too, and why you’ve hesitated to ask him to join you. Okay?”
“Oh. I didn’t want him to feel obligated. He’d be risking a lot.”
“Trust me when I tell you that telling him you want to share this experience with him is going to mean the world,” Wulfe says.
He shares a private smile with Lane. “We’re raised to assume that those around us know how we feel about them, but it goes a long way to remind them from time to time.
Especially when it’s something that means a great deal to you. ”
“Okay. I get that. I always wonder if my parents knew I loved them. Did I tell them enough? You know?” My words catch them off guard again, and five sets of eyes stare at me. I feel awkward again and shift under their watch. “Uh… they died when I was a kid,” I add. In case they didn’t know that.
“Fuck’s sake, Brevan.” Wulfe wraps me tightly in his arms.
Huh. I guess they didn’t know that. Wulfe’s arms are joined by the rest of my friends, and I’m surrounded by them in a group hug. I laugh but bask in their affection. I’m not expecting the sting of tears in my eyes.
“I obviously didn’t know you as a kid or your parents, but I’m sure they knew,” Lane says quietly.
I hope so. But I don’t want to cry today, so we’re changing the subject. “So… I should tell him I want him to go, but that he shouldn’t go.”
“You’re making it incredibly difficult not to ask a bazillion questions,” Franklin says.
“Resist,” Norman says, shoving him.
“Yes, although you should make it a discussion. Not you telling him what should happen,” Lane answers.
“Are you always going to be available for relationship questions? I think I’m going to need a mentor.”
Lane grins. “Sure, Brev. Call me, text me, send me an email—whatever.”
I sigh and get to my feet. Need to get back to my cardio.
“Are you trying to break a record or something?” Norman asks. “You’ve been running for the past several days now.”
“I’ve slowed down,” I tell him. “I can’t be slow for the game in case NFL reps are there.”
“Slowed down,” Horace repeats. “Man, to be in your mind.” He shakes his head.
“You don’t think I’ve gotten slow after taking a week off?”
“No,” Norman, Horace, and Franklin answer. Lane and Wulfe are shaking their heads.
“Man, you could run circles around all of us, and we’ll struggle to keep up with you,” Horace answers.
“I feel slower,” I admit.
“Come on. Let’s go play pass, and we’ll give you something to catch,” Lane says, tugging on my sleeve. “You’re a sprinter anyway.”
“You don’t have to.”
“We could all use the practice,” Franklin says. “None of us were invited to the draft.”
Excitement bubbles in my gut again, and I grin widely. Yes, it is something to be ecstatic about. I need to take a break from worrying sometimes and celebrate the wins. Being invited is a win all on its own. That means they see my potential. They think I’m good enough to be picked up by a team.