Chapter 7
Benson
It’s too damn late in the year for it to be this hot. And it’s especially too damn late in the year for it to be this hot while at football practice.
I’m sweating my ass off. West, as always, is acting like some kind of superhuman, and even though he’s got sweat dripping from the strands of his hair, he’s not giving up.
My feet pound on the turf as I run down the field, my heart thundering just as hard. I hold my hands out in front of me, catching the football and cradling it into my chest. I break a tackle, then sprint ahead before I’m brought down hard near the end zone.
Jesus. West’s accuracy is always damn near perfect, and it’s a real shame that he doesn’t have bigger aspirations for football than just playing in college. It seems like no matter what route I run, he drops the ball directly in my hands. It’s uncanny and wildly impressive.
We set up again, and I’m thankful when, instead of throwing the ball to me, West hands it off to our running back, Devon.
Devon gets brought down after only picking up a few yards, and I’m about to grumble over it when Coach yells for us to bring it in. Thank God. I jog to the sidelines, taking a bottle of water from someone before spraying it in my hair and down my face, and then I take a big drink.
My chest feels like it’s on fire. I hate running in the heat. Yeah, I’m kind of a big baby about it actually, but oh well.
I catch sight of Landon on the sideline and shoot him a wink, pleased when his cheeks flush bright red. He’s so damn cute. He recovers quickly, then surprises the hell out of me by winking back.
He must see the shock on my face because his eyes light up, and he laughs. I’m not close enough to hear it, but I damn near have it memorized anyway.
I’m not even listening to the coach. I’m far too intrigued by Landon, so when everyone starts to disperse and head into the locker rooms, I’m a little surprised. Damn. Hope I didn’t miss anything important.
Landon starts walking in my direction, so instead of heading toward the locker rooms, I make my way to him. It looks like his breath catches a little when I get close, but it’s probably nothing more than the heat and how hard he just played.
Marcus missed practice today for God knows what reason. I swear that dude is so unreliable, but as his backup, Landon stepped right in. He offers better protection for West than Marcus anyway.
“Hey,” I say when I get close enough for Landon to hear me.
He waves a little. “Hi.”
Normally, he’s all about intense eye contact, but right now he can barely even look at me. I frown. “Everything okay?”
“What?” He nods but still doesn’t look at me. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”
“I was just wondering, since you haven’t been responding to any of my messages lately.”
He turns his head a little more, looking away from me fully. “I’ve just been busy.”
Well, fuck. Okay, then. “Just thought maybe I made you upset or something.”
“No!” He makes eye contact with me then, shaking his head furiously. “No, not at all.”
I hum. “You know, if something’s going on, you can talk to me, right?”
He stops walking, so I stop too. We’re the only two left on the field, and I’m slightly grateful for that. “Yeah?”
It sounds like he needs confirmation that I’m not fucking around with him, and I’m definitely down to offer him that. “Yes. I mean it.”
With a sigh, he resumes walking but continues to not look at me. “So… what if I was… not straight?”
I remember how terrified Kai was when they came out to me. Their little voice shook so hard that they could barely get the words out. This feels a bit like that. Not that I look at Landon like a younger sibling. Fuck no. But it feels monumental. Just like that did.
“Well,” I say as I stop walking. Landon gets a few feet ahead of me before he realizes and stops.
His shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, then he turns and faces me.
His jaw is set in a harsh line, his face stoic.
It’s his eyes that give him away, though.
He looks terrified, and that breaks my heart.
I take a step and then another before clasping his shoulder. This time, he doesn’t break eye contact. “Then I’d tell you, welcome to the club.”
He blinks at me for a second, then his face does something complicated. “Are you?” He stops, clearing his throat. “Are you, uh—”
“Am I not straight? Yep. I’m not straight. I’m pan.”
He nods slowly. “I don’t know what I am,” he whispers.
For some reason, that makes my throat go a little tight and achy. “That’s alright.” I give his shoulder a squeeze. “You don’t have to know. People put a lot of pressure on labels, but really, it’s not that serious.”
His throat bobs. “Really?”
I shrug. “Sure. Who says you have to have a label? Maybe you just figure yourself out, you know? Take some time to explore.”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding along as he speaks. “You’re right.”
With another squeeze, I let go of his shoulder. “Let’s go shower. I smell like ass.”
Landon laughs. “You and me both. I gotta get cleaned up for sure. A couple of days ago, I spilled coffee all over some dude walking out of the coffee shop and gave him my hoodie to wear. He texted me earlier that it was ready to pick up, and he gave me his address.”
“Damn. That’s bad luck.”
His face flushes pink, and he looks away. “I felt so bad.”
We walk side by side into the locker room. Everyone’s damn near cleared out except for West. He’s studying the playbook, but he is freshly showered. “What’s up, man?”
West looks up. “Oh. Just making sure I’m on top of things.”
He literally always is, so I don’t know why he’s so worried.
“Hey,” West says before I even have a chance to respond. “Do you think it would be strange to invite Darcy to our first game?”
“Your tutor?”
Finding out about Darcy was a trip. I was worried for a second that West was being a homophobic asshole, but I was thankful to learn that he wasn’t. Maybe just a little confused about his own straightness.
He nods, eyes darting between me and Landon.
“I’m gonna hit the shower. Good practice today, Weston,” Landon says, smoothly stepping away from us.
“Good protection today!” West calls back, but Landon’s already around the corner.
I sit down beside him on the bench. “No. I don’t think it would be strange. You like him, huh?”
West’s eyes light up. “Oh, he’s great. He’s really not what I expected at all, and he’s a lot of fun to hang out with. He’s been at my place pretty much every night this week.”
“Well, I hope things all work out, and he agrees to come.”
He smiles at me. “Thanks, man. Me too.”
I have a dinner date with Parker, so I pat my thighs. “Alright, well, I’m gonna hit the showers.”
“See ya, dude,” West says, glancing back at the playbook.
Pulling off sweaty clothes is the actual worst thing ever, but when I’m naked, I step into the shower stall a few down from Landon. Having him naked and wet and in close proximity isn’t going to be good for me, and that’s a lesson I’ve learned the hard way.
I’m not ashamed of my sexuality, but there’s nothing worse than some homophobic asshole seeing your hard dick and thinking his ugly ass somehow managed to make it happen.
I take my time, but I still finish up before Landon. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I step out of the shower and go grab some clothes before drying off and getting dressed.
Landon’s still in the shower with the water running when I’m ready to leave, so I call out to him. “I’m heading out, Lan. Text me if you need anything.”
“Will do!” he yells back.
I leave the training facility with a pep in my step, heading straight to Parker’s. When I knock on their door, it takes a second for them to open it.
My heart skips a beat when they do.
Parker looks a little crazed, if I’m being totally honest. There’s red and black paint splattered across the skin-tight white jeans they’re wearing, and more of it up their arms and across their face. There’s a streak along their eyebrow, the red precariously close to dripping onto their lid.
Without thinking, I reach out, swiping the paint away. Parker jolts. “You’re early.”
I glance at my phone. “I’m actually ten minutes late, Cotton Candy.”
Parker gapes at me, their mouth opening and closing. “Holy shit. I must have gotten lost in painting.”
“Yeah?” I smirk. “It looks like you definitely got lost in paint.”
Parker’s gaze follows mine down to their clothes. “Fuck. I should have changed first. I loved these pants.”
“Are you gonna let me in?” I ask when they raise their gaze back to mine.
“What?” Their face twists up. “Um, yes? Give me a second to put my painting away.”
Without another word, they shut the door in my face. I still have a glob of red paint on my thumb, so with a shrug, I wipe it off on my pant leg.
A couple of minutes later, the door swings open again, and a still-paint-covered Parker steps back, ushering me in. “Sorry. I got in the zone and must have lost track of time.”
“Hey, no worries.”
I step inside, taking a look around. I think I half expected it to look like a crime scene in here, so I’m surprised when it doesn’t. It seems Parker mostly keeps the paint contained to themself.
“So, what are you working on now?” I ask, making myself at home on the plush couch. “Or is that too soul-searchy for your tastes?”
Parker snorts, plopping down beside me. “It’s for the project I was telling you about the other day.” They turn sideways, sitting cross-legged and settling their bright-blue eyes on me. “The human emotions one.”
I nod. “I remember. What’s the emotion today, Cotton Candy?”
“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?”
“Maybe.” Probably not. “The emotion?”
Letting out a heavy sigh, Parker looks away from me. “Anger.”
I scan their face. Red and black are anger. Noted. “Was it cathartic?”
“Painting anger?” Parker asks, glancing at me through their thick lashes.
“Yeah. Seems like it would be. Being able to get all that emotion out on a canvas. Just purging it from your body.”
Parker nods slowly. “Yeah…” They pause, eyes landing somewhere on the wall opposite us.
“It’s like… when I’m painting, I’m not thinking, you know?
All I have to do is feel. It’s like me, Parker, isn’t doing the work.
Sure, it’s my hand. And it’s my paintbrush.
But it’s not me. It’s like someone else takes over. ”
I love listening to them talk about their art. I only wish they were a little more open about it, but I also get that it’s probably a deeply personal thing. “That’s fascinating.”
Whipping their head around quickly, Parker glares at me. “You don’t have to make fun of me.”
“I’m not. Not at all. It is fascinating. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. It’s really awesome to listen to your process.”
Eyeing me, they shift on the couch. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“You introduced yourself with your pronouns. Why?”
I’m a little taken aback at the quick subject change. I get Parker to open up the smallest bit with their art, and they shut me right back down. It’s not a big deal, though. “My thirteen-year-old sibling—Kai—is nonbinary. I try to make it a habit to never assume pronouns.”
Parker watches me for a second, then nods. “Oh. Well, I truly appreciate it. It’s… exhausting, constantly correcting people.”
I nod. “Yeah, Kai says it would be easier if they could just wear a sign on their forehead.”
That gets a chuckle from Parker. “Yeah, but then you’re broadcasting to all the assholes too.” They smile. “West seemed really good about it, though.”
I can’t help but grin. “Yeah, West is a really good guy.”
“Yeah,” Parker says, sighing. “Definitely into my best friend Darcy, though.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I try to fight a smile. Yeah, I clocked that. If the way he was very obviously ogling all our teammates in the locker room, asking about football pants, didn’t give it away, the way he talks about Darcy would have, but that’s not my business to share. “You think so?”
“If he’s not, I’ll be incredibly surprised.”
I open my mouth to respond when a knock at the door silences me. I cock my head to the side. “Expecting company?”
“Fuck.” Parker stands, looking around in what seems like panic. “It’s the dude.”
“The dude?” I ask, confused.
“Yes. The dude who was ogling you.”
That clears up exactly nothing. “What?”
Parker sighs, running a hand through their hair.
“That guy who ran into me and knocked all my art supplies everywhere?” I nod, somewhat following.
“He was ogling my sketch of you. And then a few days later, he ran right into me and spilled my coffee all over my dress. Anyway,” Parker continues.
“He gave me his hoodie, which was nice. But I told him to come pick it up tonight, and I totally forgot.”
There’s another knock as I piece things together.
Wait.
Landon was the person ogling me?
Interesting.