Chapter 10
Landon
The first game of the season is always a trip. The energy is unmatched, the roar of the crowd like nothing I’ve ever felt.
I’m just hopeful that one day I’ll be on the field playing and not just waiting on the sidelines. But this is my team, and I’m proud to be a part of it, even if it is just cheering from the sidelines.
Weston and Ben are a match made in heaven. They find a rhythm early on, with Ben making every catch and Weston throwing him perfect balls.
There’s a push and pull between them, a practiced ease. They work together like a well-oiled machine. And Ben… God, he’s perfection. Each muscle in his body flexes and bunches as he sprints down the field, and his strong hands catch the ball with unmatched accuracy.
It’s impossible to look away from him.
He commands attention. Everything from his broad shoulders to his trim waist to his strong, powerful thighs.
He’s like a walking wet dream, and somehow I get to exist in his orbit.
It’s not that he doesn’t have other friends.
Of course he does. He’s like a light that people can’t help but be drawn to, but that he’s drawn to me is somewhat unbelievable.
He could hang out with literally anyone, and yet, somehow, he keeps coming back. Keeps texting me. Keeps asking me to hang out.
Him and Parker both. The two of them couldn’t be more different, and the more I’m around them, the more I want to be around them.
Ben catches the ball, breaks a tackle, and dives into the end zone. The crowd goes wild, and so does the team, everyone jumping to their feet and cheering.
After Weston runs into the end zone and bumps his helmet off Ben’s, Ben looks up into the stands, then blows a dramatic kiss.
I follow his gaze, surprised to find Parker sitting there.
My throat gets a little dry and clicky as I stare up at them.
They look… radiant today. That’s really the only word for it.
Even from where I’m standing, I can make out the makeup they’re wearing, and the dress they have on today is the same one they had on when I spilled that coffee on them.
My stomach heats at the memory of it clinging to their skin, soaked through and showing off the delicate bra underneath. Are they wearing that again today? Fuck.
Like they can feel my eyes on them, they shift their attention to me. Heat floods my cheeks, and I look away. But like a moth to a flame, my eyes take on a mind of their own. When I look up at them again, they flash me a smile, then wave.
I wave back, then refocus on the game.
When the team runs off the field at halftime, we’re all pumped up. All of us except Marcus. I have no fucking idea what his problem is, but the second we step into the locker room, he starts rambling about gay people.
It’s not super loud or even obvious, but it still makes my blood run cold all the same.
“Hey, man. The fuck is your problem?” Ben asks, shooting him a sideways glance.
Marcus continues to grumble under his breath, ignoring Ben completely. I do my level best to ignore him, instead sidling up beside Ben. “Hey.”
He hits me with the full force of his smile. “Hi.”
“You’re playing really well.” My cheeks flush, and Ben’s eyes dart all around my face before he smiles.
“Thanks, cutie,” he whispers, leaning into my space.
I sputter a laugh, trying to ignore how it makes me feel inside. “Oh man, am I next on the list to get an unhinged nickname?”
Ben shakes his head. “Nah. Cutie’s not unhinged; it’s just… fitting. If you want an unhinged nickname, I’m sure I could come up with something, though.”
“Not necessary,” I say, my voice squeaking. “Not necessary,” I repeat, my voice back within normal range.
That gets me another smile. “If you change your mind, let me know.”
If I did change my mind, how would I even approach that? Hey, Ben, I’m feeling left out with the nickname thing and would like one of my own. No. Not happening.
Before Ben can respond, Coach comes barreling into the locker room, barking orders about adjustments that need to be made in the second half.
I keep a close eye on Marcus. He’s not paying any attention to what the coach is saying. Instead he’s watching Weston, who doesn’t even seem to notice, but I can tell by the tense set of Ben’s shoulders that he does.
Of course I know assholes like him exist. I did grow up in the church, and even though the hateful rhetoric was never spoken directly to me, it may as well have been.
I’m zoning out, too focused on Marcus and Weston to pay much attention to anything else, when everyone starts filing out of the locker room.
Ben bumps his shoulder against mine, then follows everyone out.
The energy is still electric when we all jog back onto the field. The crowd is going wild, and since we’re winning, it doesn’t seem like that’s gonna stop anytime soon.
Our defense takes the field. We hold them to a three and out, and the crowd goes wilder.
When the offense takes the field, the roar of the stadium is louder than I’ve ever heard it. I glance behind me in the stands, finding Parker. They aren’t looking at me, but they’re on their feet beside someone who’s wearing Weston’s jersey.
I watch them for a second, then turn my eyes back to the field.
Weston calls out the play, no nonsense as usual, and before I can even process what’s happening, he’s on his back on the turf. Sacked. It seems to knock the air out of him because it takes him a couple of long seconds to get up.
The energy is still high when the game resumes, but it doesn’t last long.
Marcus seems like he’s intentionally letting the defense through, and Weston gets knocked to the ground over and over. He’s pissed. I’ve never seen him quite like this before, and it’s making me uneasy.
As far as leaders go, he’s about the best there is. He’s calm under pressure, confident, and he knows what he’s doing. Ben is getting frustrated too. He barks something at Marcus, anger written all over his face.
We don’t convert on third down at all in the third quarter, and each time the offense runs off the field, Ben gets more and more agitated.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
He shakes his head. “Bigoted fucking freak.”
“Marcus?”
He nods, spraying water into his mouth.
Thankfully, our defense is on the ball, keeping our opponents from scoring.
When the game is nearing the end and we’re closing in on the two-minute timeout, Weston looks more determined than ever. They set up, hike the ball, and he steps back, scanning the field.
Ben sprints, wide open, just waiting for Weston to drop the ball in his hands, but the ball never comes because Weston gets sacked yet again.
This time, he loses his cool. He jumps to his feet, throwing the ball to the side as he stalks after Marcus. Grabbing him by the jersey, he shoves him backward. The crowd gasps, and I look up to find Parker.
They look concerned, and honestly, so am I. If this is any indication of how our season is gonna go, it’s not looking great.
Dragging my eyes away from Parker, I scan the field, zeroing in on Ben. He’s pissed, face flushed and eyes hard at the corners.
When the game ends, we’ve scraped by with a win, but just barely. We truthfully owe it all to our defense because God knows we wouldn’t have gotten there by scoring.
I follow the rest of the team off the field and into the locker room.
There’s a commotion, and when Weston walks out the door, I catch the tail end of Marcus asking him if he’s going to find his little boyfriend.
My blood boils, but I also shrink in on myself just a little. This is why I have the fear I have. Not because of assholes like Marcus, but because I could hear the same condemnation in my pastor’s voice.
I don’t believe that I’m wrong. I don’t. I couldn’t. To believe that would be to believe that about Ben and possibly even about Weston.
I know better than that, but it doesn’t make me any less afraid. I don’t even bother changing; I just grab my bag from my locker and sit on the bench.
When I finally get the nerve to step out of the locker room and into the hallway, Weston and the guy from the stands wearing his jersey are kissing while an amused Parker and Ben look on.
Ben catches my eye, then mouths, “Park’s place,” to me.
I nod, turning on my heels and walking away.
I’m not even sure if I want to go to Parker’s. Not tonight. Not after all of that.
Like proof of my own thoughts, my phone rings from my bag. With a sigh, I keep walking toward my dorm. I’ve had the same ringtone set for my mom since I was sixteen years old, and while it still dredges up a certain level of dread, at least I never get blindsided when I answer the phone.
I’ll call her back when I get to the dorm.
Stepping inside, I have to maneuver around a pile of laundry right beside the door.
I’m already frustrated, so I kick at it, sending clothes flying across the living room.
On my way down the short hallway to my bedroom, I beat on Roger’s door.
“Get your shit picked up, bro. You aren’t the only damn person who lives here! ”
I don’t even wait for a response before trudging into my bedroom and slamming the door shut behind me.
Sitting down on the edge of my bed, I take my phone out of my bag and reluctantly call my mom back.
“Hey!” she says brightly. “How did the game go?”
“Team won,” I say, trying to muster some joy so she doesn’t call me out for having a bad attitude.
“That’s so good, hun. Any plans with the team?”
“No.” I pick at a piece of dirt on my pants. I’m not even sure how it got there since I didn’t play. “Not tonight.” I could be hanging out with Parker and Ben. That would be preferable to sitting alone in my dorm, but for some reason, I just don’t know if I can force myself into it.
I listen as Mom rattles on about church in the morning. She’s leading the worship in song, and she’s so excited I can practically hear her smile. “That sounds nice, Mom.”
“Are you okay, Landon? You sound a little down.”
How am I supposed to give her an honest answer? How am I supposed to tell her that listening to the words of a bigot and then hearing her talk about Sunday church is the reason for my foul mood? I can’t.
I can’t risk her ire. For all the ways she irritates me and all the ways she hovers and tries to control my life, she’s still my mom, and I still love her. “I’m alright. Just worn out,” I say instead.
“You really should get out and celebrate,” she says quietly. “You work hard. You deserve it.”
I didn’t do anything but stand on the sidelines and freeze up when someone was attacking one of my teammates. I can’t help wondering what Ben and Parker are doing.
My phone dings, so I pull it away from my ear to read the message that just came through.
Parker
Where are you?
Ben
Yeah, didn’t you see me tell you to come here after the game?
I did, but…
Me
not sure I’m feeling up to it tonight.
“Well, hun, I’ll let you go,” Mom says. “I love you, and let me know what you think of the church group at the school. I’m excited to hear all about it.”
“I love you too,” I say, not even giving her a response about the church meeting. There’s no way in hell I’m going to that.
I hang up the phone, then step into the hall. Hopefully Roger isn’t occupying the bathroom because I want a shower. Thankfully, the room is empty, and I strip out of my gear, grabbing a fresh towel from the small closet behind the door.
The showers in the dorms are small, but the water pressure is amazing, and when I’m standing under the spray, being pelted with damn near boiling water, some of the tension leaches from my body.
After a few minutes, I scrub my hair, then my body, before standing under the water until it runs cold.
Reluctantly, I get out and dry off, then tie the towel around my waist. Before I leave the room, I pick up my clothes—which is the polite and responsible thing to do, Roger—before hightailing it back into my room.
Slipping on a pair of boxers, I crawl into bed, grabbing my phone.
I have a few notifications, and I swipe them away without even looking at them, then open the group chat with Ben and Parker.
Ben
What do you mean you don’t feel up to it?
Parker
What’s wrong?
Ben
Good question. Did something happen?
Ben
Where are you?
Parker
Helllooooo?
Ben
Are you back at your dorm?
I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.
Me
are you sitting next to each other both texting me? nothing is wrong. i just took a shower. yes i’m at my dorm.
I’m not expecting a quick response since Ben’s last message came in over twenty minutes ago, but within a few seconds, my phone dings.
Parker
Well, that’s boring. Come over.
Ben
Yeah, what they said.
I’m not sure why it matters so much to them.
Ben
Park said we could have a sleepover tonight.
Parker
I said no such thing.
Ben
They did. I heard it.
I shake my head, stifling a laugh.
Me
i wouldn’t want to crash the sleepover. you two have fun.
With a sigh, I toss my phone to the side before pulling the covers over myself. What a shitty fucking night.