Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
With these two, I’ll have Dick Brain for days.
BLAIR
Now
Gingerly, I approach Colton, reclining on a cushioned lounger. Stars glitter above, and the moon is full, making silver light dance over the calm black water.
“Don’t tell Coach Williams.” I hide a silk bag behind my back. “But I brought some contraband.”
He smiles, his brow raised and curious.
Don’t worry; it’s not a dildo from Delta’s. It’s a bottle of Hennessy, and when I present it to Colton, he nods, “My kinda woman,” before accepting the first swig with a toast. “Thanks.”
I settle on the lounger beside him, taking the bottle he passes back to me. I take a swig, too, while I catch Beau’s silhouette in the dark windows of his bedroom.
His lights are off. He’s watching us, but I don’t mind. I’m honored he trusts me to do this.
“So,” I sigh to the stars above, “got any good make-up tips?”
Colton’s chuckle rumbles low while he reclines, considering the sky and his shitty relationship. “Don’t do your eye makeup before your formation.”
“Formation?” I laugh. “You mean foundation?”
“Yeah, that.” He laughs back.
I pass him the bottle. We exchange a couple more burning sips before he asks, “You think I’m a dumbass, don’t you?”
“Nope. I think we all got reasons for our relationships or lack thereof. Question is, do you know what yours is?”
“Uh, bad habits are hard to break?”
“Harder to break than hearts?”
“It won’t break my heart to end this one,” he admits. “Hell, she’s got me so numb, I don’t feel a thing.”
Colton doesn’t know I know about him and Beau. But I do, and that’s not true.
He feels something powerful for Beau, and I can’t sit by for ten days and watch them destroy each other and their dream over it.
“You know, when I was in college,” I share, “this guy I loved to hate kept playing pranks on me. Then, one night, he showed up at my dorm with a busted lip and tears in his eyes, and it wasn’t a joke. He told me about his best friend, the guy he loved, and he said he loved him, too. He just hated their world because they couldn’t be together in it.”
Like a comet across the sky, Colton looks at me, his huge smile beaming. “I knew it was you.”
“What?”
“You. You were Reese’s roommate, right? I heard about you.”
“Yeah,” I answer.
“Yeah, you’re the one Bronson bragged about on Snapchat. The girl he played all those pranks on?”
“The one and only. And just you wait. I packed Clingwrap to put over his toilet.”
“That’s your toilet, too.”
“That’s what they make oceans for.”
He softly chuckles, considering me for a moment. A long one before he gently smiles. “So, he told you about us?” I nod yes. “But you never told anyone, did you?” I shake my head no. “That’s what I thought. It’s you. He trusts you.” His smile lights up his eyes. “That’s why he loves you. You know that, right?”
“He doesn’t love me. He loves you.”
“Uh, you’re the one he was willing to get a skull fracture for.”
“I’d never hurt him,” is all I can answer. “Torture him? Yes. Embarrass the shit out of him. It’s my daily mission. But hurt Beau? Never. I’d never hurt you, either. Your secret’s always safe with me.” I shrug. “Hell, I celebrate it. I’m bi, too.”
“Thanks.” Colton gently pats my knee. “Thanks because God knows we fucking need it.”
He lets his big, warm hand linger a little longer on my leg, and it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels like he needs this.
“You deserve someone you can trust, too.”
“I trusted my mom,” he says. “She knew.”
“As you should,” I answer, immediately hearing the past tense. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
He winces. “I lost her last year. Brain cancer is a bitch.”
I swallow hard. For such a big man who looks like he could break you in half, Colton seems broken.
“I think you found your reason,” I offer, and he raises a brow, taking another swig from the bottle. “Maybe you’re hanging on to Amber because you had to let go of your mom.”
“Damn, Bronson,” he chuffs. “The sexy lucky fucker. He gets one who’s sweet, beautiful, and smart as hell.”
“Nah,” I grin, “just took a few psych classes and got a degree. But it’s obvious, so let me ask you a question.”
“Hang on.” He aims his playful glare. “We already got mandated counseling with a sports shrink this week. So what are you shrinking?”
“Dr. Gary will shrink your balls.” I make Colton grin. “But I can open your shrunken heart. Do you trust me?”
“Shoot.”
“Would your mom like Amber?”
Colton’s naked chest shakes so hard when he laughs. I try not to ogle, but when his body’s adorned with that much exquisite ink over all those hulking muscles, what the hell am I supposed to look at? A thousand shooting stars?
“Hell, no, she wouldn’t like her,” he answers. “When I’d do dumb shit, my mom would smack my head and say, ‘I didn’t raise my son to carry his brains in his back pocket,’ before she’d pinch my chin and peck my cheek. That’s what she’d do right about now.”
“Ummm.” I take the bottle from him, then a big swig. “I like your mom.”
“Yeah.” He takes another long pause, his gaze my way deepening and intense. “She’d like you a lot, too.”
I can see why Beau loves Colton. What’s not to love? He’s hot as hell, and his big heart is in the right place. He’s just grieving the mom he lost and the man he can’t have.
So, I share something I rarely discuss. “I lost my mom, too. Five years ago.”
“Shit.” He softens his face. “I’m fucking sorry. I really am.”
“People who text and drive are assholes, too.”
He grabs my hand and squeezes it—not in a sexy way. Grief does that. It humbles us to reach for what we have, even a stranger or a really sweet NFL player.
Or two.
We shoot the shit until an hour later when Colton sees me shiver, so he finds beach towels in a basket by the sliding glass doors. He offers a couple to me, taking one for himself.
As we wrap up, my world shifts. Beautifully. Powerfully. Inexplicably. My gravity centering, balanced by Beau and Colton’s love. It pulls my heart to them. I feel warm and cozy and where I’m supposed to be.
“You know what my mom used to say?” With Colton, I like talking about her.
“Was she wicked smart like you?” With me, he’s more connected to Beau.
“Yeah,” I answer. “She was, and she used to say, ‘Apathy is the opposite of love, not hate.’”
“So,” he grins, “you’re saying I’m in deep hate with Bronson because I have lots of feelings about the Super Bowl?”
“Yep. That’s why y’all have your jock straps in a twist over an interception.”
He laughs. “You may be right about an interception, but not jockstraps. None of us wear cups, and few wear straps.”
My eyes get wide. “You free ball? Won’t your meat and potatoes get mashed?”
He looks me in the eye, not too shy to explain, “A cup can pinch my potatoes, and it gets in the way. It slows me down. That’s why most of us have big thighs, like pillows protecting our meat.”
Don’t do it. Don’t look at Colton’s crotch. Just accept the meaty facts.
It takes all my might not to…
Whoops, I did it. I can’t fight my slutty DNA. I glance and…
Oh my god, Colton’s free balling in navy cotton shorts and laying pipe like Beau. With these two, I’ll have Dick Brain for days, so I force my wide pupils to lock back to his.
“You go commando?”
“Nah.” He grins because he caught me drooling. “I wear the same game-day underwear. So does Bronson. White Hanes boxer briefs. We’ve worn them since we won state our senior year in high school.”
I do the stinky math, my nostrils twitching, adding it up. “You’ve worn the same pair of underwear for twelve years? Eww! Talk about winning streaks.”
Colton falls back, laughing. “We fucking wash them! But don’t come between a player and his superstitions.”
“Superstitions. Distractions.” I roll my eyes. “Y’all act like voodoo wins games, not skills.”
“Raven, all that matters is we win.”
We curl up under our towels, talking some more until we fall asleep under the stars.
I have peaceful dreams by Colton’s side. I’ve found a friend while our mutual love sleeps alone in his bed, and I know Beau. He wants me out here with Colton since he can’t be.
But when we wake up to, “What the fuck is this?”
Amber Kostas is about to find out why you don’t fuck with me until I’ve had my coffee.