|| Chapter Twenty-Six || Marcos – “I’m fine” #2
It was still something Marcos was trying to catch up on. How others would view something like this, no matter how innocent it was.
“They don’t have anything, really,” Marcos confirmed, and Parker pouted.
“Damn.” His eyes darted between Marcos and Sebastian. “What were you two doing?”
“Uh—” Sebastian started, but Marcos jumped in.
“Mainly complaining about the snacks. Then I got kinda sentimental. The Bandits, ya know?”
“Ah, fuck. Yeah. Don’t worry, man.” Parker slapped Marcos’ back. “We’re the better team.”
The slap landed hard enough to move Marcos half a step.
“I’m gonna head to bed,” Sebastian said, the words stringing together. “Catch you guys tomorrow.”
“Night, Seb,” Parker called, eyes fixed on the vending machine.
Marcos raised his hand and offered a smile, which Sebastian returned, swift and silent, before turning and disappearing down the hall.
Marcos watched him go until he turned the corner.
Parker selected what he wanted from the machine and grabbed it, turning back to Marcos. “Getting anything?”
“Not really hungry anymore.”
“Alright,” Parker said, lifting a shoulder.
He started down the hall again, and Marcos followed, watching Parker open his packet of sour cream chips and eat the entire bag before they reached their room. Marcos tried not to judge him for it and failed, his face betraying him too easily.
The door swung open, and Marcos closed it behind them.
Two double beds sat against the wall with a television mounted opposite them, and a bathroom next to that. Their bags were sitting at the ends of the beds, with clothes already scattered over the top of them and across the floor.
The curtains were drawn, blocking out most of the car park lights, and the only glow came faintly from the curtain’s outline and from the small lamp beside Parker’s bed, which he shut off as soon as he reached it.
Parker threw himself onto the mattress, causing it to bounce him as he clawed his way to the pillows. He turned his head and watched Marcos step toward his own.
Marcos felt the stare more than he could see it in the dim room, which somehow made it worse.
“You and Seb seem to have gotten past your differences,” Parker said after Marcos sat on the edge of his bed.
“Mostly,” Marcos said, lying on top of his covers, hands clasped on his chest, staring the ceiling.
“For a while there, I really thought you guys were gonna give the reserves their chance in the spotlight.” Parker chuckled before letting out a long sigh. “Now you guys are, like, buddies.”
“I guess so.”
“It’s kinda funny, you know. Going from hating each other to doing promotional shit together.”
Marcos’ heart sank in his chest, feeling as though it was trying to fall out of his back. He turned his head to look over at Parker but could barely see him. His jaw worked once, and he forced it to stop.
There was nothing in Parker’s voice that sounded like an accusation. He just sounded half-asleep and mildly entertained at the idea of whatever Marcos and Sebastian had been before the Mustangs, turning into whatever the club saw them as.
Marcos wondered what exactly that was. How close were they to knowing the truth? How would Sebastian feel about it?
Marcos didn’t know what to think about it. If people knew what he and Sebastian had done behind closed doors, he had no idea how he would react. If he would care. Or if they would.
Still, Marcos felt the words press too close.
“I mean, we don’t really have a choice,” Marcos finally said, fingers tightening around each other. “We’re on the same team.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Parker went quiet, then he exhaled loudly. “But you like him, right?”
“What?”
The word came out too fast.
Parker didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he was too tired to care. “Like, you don’t hate him anymore? You guys are actually chill?”
“Oh.” Marcos relaxed, taking in a deep breath. “Yeah, we’re good. Most of the time.”
He tried to make the answer sound normal. Like he was just an old rival who had learned to live with his new teammate.
His body wasn’t reacting like it was a normal answer, though. His pulse had already jumped and wasn’t coming back down. Then a thought ran through his mind.
Maybe I would care if they knew.
He started at the ceiling, at the vague shadows barely forming in the low light. Marcos made himself breathe evenly.
“Thought so. You look at him too soft now.” Parker’s voice was quiet, the words fading as tiredness started to take him.
The words hung in the air, and Marcos didn’t know where he could put them to make them settle better.
His pulse quickened again as he thought about how he looked at Sebastian. At the club during training, in the gym, and in the locker room. He thought about the promotional shoot—Sebastian laughing in the cold and the way Marcos had watched him as they lay on the ground.
How he stared at Sebastian in private. In bed as the morning light came through the window.
Marcos swallowed, and it was rough in his throat.
“Anyway,” Parker said, and Marcos heard him shifting in his bed. “Night.”
“Night,” Marcos mumbled back, his eyes locked onto the darkness above him.
Parker rolled over, the mattress creaking beneath him. A chip packet crinkled once, then went quiet. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and gentle snores escaped him, filling the room and sitting in the darkness with Marcos, who stayed awake. His eyes still locked onto the ceiling.
His mind latched onto the feeling of Sebastian’s hand in his and the look he’d had on his face before Parker appeared.
Tired and worried and a little softer than he usually let himself be in public.
Then the speed with which he had pulled away.
The space he had made. The way he had disappeared down the hallway with a smile that barely lasted long enough for Marcos to return it.
Marcos silently cursed himself, then rolled over, closing his eyes.
The game the next day was at midday, which meant an early morning. He knew he was going to greet it with next to no sleep.