Chapter 12 Seth #2
“There he is. I was just telling Tanner about the time you tried to convince Coach that the wishbone formation was making a comeback.”
“It has strategic value,” I said automatically. “In specific situations.”
Terrence shook his head, still grinning. “All right, I’m gonna go make sure Davis doesn’t start another argument about the coverage scheme. Tanner, good talking to you, man.”
He disappeared into the crowd, and Jenkins and his girlfriend drifted toward the pool tables a moment later, leaving Tanner and me alone at the bar.
“Having fun?” I asked.
“That’s a strong word.” But his mouth twitched. “Jenkins’s girlfriend is nice. She’s in veterinary medicine. We talked about stress fractures in racehorses, and then she asked about what I’ve been working on.”
“Sounds riveting.”
“It actually was.” He set down his beer, and I noticed he’d barely touched it. “You don’t have to keep checking on me.”
“I know.”
“So stop hovering and go do your thing. I’m fine. Really.”
I leaned against the bar beside him, close enough that our shoulders touched. No one was paying attention. Everyone was too drunk, too happy, too wrapped up in their own celebrations.
“I hate this,” I said, voice low.
Tanner’s head turned. “Hate what?”
“Having to be careful. Not being able to—” I stopped. Started again. “You’re here, and I can’t even hold your hand.”
His jaw unclenched. The careful neutrality cracked, showing the exhaustion underneath.
“Four more weeks,” he said. “Then you’re done.”
“Three games. Four with the bowl game.”
“Then you’re done,” he repeated. “And we can stop pretending.”
“Yeah.”
Tanner’s knee pressed against mine under the bar. Not obvious, not enough for anyone to notice. Just pressure, warmth, a reminder that we were in this together.
“I keep thinking about later,” he said, so quietly I almost missed it. “When we’re home.”
My stomach tightened. “What about it?”
“I keep thinking about—” He stopped, cheeks flushing. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“Tell me.”
His eyes met mine, and I saw it there— The want he usually kept banked, the hunger he’d been sitting on all night while I played the part of someone who didn’t need him.
“Later,” he said. “When we’re alone.”
I had to look away before I did something stupid. Like kiss him in front of my entire team.
We lasted another hour.
Tanner held his own better than I expected.
He talked to Davis about biomechanics, let Terrence drag him into a conversation about the defensive line’s footwork, and even laughed at Jenkins’s terrible jokes about punters.
But I could see him fraying at the edges—his smile getting tighter, his weight shifting like he was ready to bolt.
When he caught my eye across the room and tilted his head toward the door, I didn’t hesitate.
“I’m heading out,” I told Terrence. “Early morning.”
“It’s Saturday night.”
“I know.”
He gave me a look that said he saw right through the excuse. “Your roommate holding up okay?”
“Better than I expected.”
“He’s all right.” Terrence nodded, something genuine in his expression. “Wasn’t sure what to make of him at first, but he’s got a good head on his shoulders. Knows his stuff too. That helmet research he was talking about? Pretty cool.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It is.”
“Bring him around again sometime.” Terrence grinned. “If he can survive this crowd, he can handle anything.”
Outside, the November air bit through my jacket. The parking lot was still full, most of the crowd still inside riding the high of a win that meant something. I just had to hold the sides of my life together a little longer.
Tanner was already at the truck, arms wrapped around himself, breath fogging in the streetlight.
He’d untucked his shirt at some point, and his hair was mussed from running his hands through it—a nervous habit I’d cataloged months ago.
He looked exhausted and relieved and something else I couldn’t name.
“Sorry,” he said when I reached him. “I know you wanted to stay longer.”
“I didn’t.” I unlocked the doors, waited until we were both inside with the engine running and the heater blasting. “I wanted to leave an hour ago.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because you were trying so hard.” I reached for his hand, lacing our fingers together on the center console. “You were incredible tonight. You know that, right?”
“I made awkward small talk about horse bones and helmets.”
“You showed up. You stayed. You let my teammates see that you exist.” I brought his hand to my mouth, pressed my lips to his knuckles. “That matters.”
He was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice had dropped to something rough. “Take me home.”
We didn’t make it past the entryway.
The door had barely clicked shut before Tanner was on me—hands fisting in my shirt, mouth hot and demanding against mine. He kissed like he was trying to consume me, all the restraint from the bar evaporating into desperate need.
“All night,” he gasped between kisses. “I kept thinking about this. Watching you with your team, knowing I couldn’t touch you—”
I walked him backward into the wall, pinning him there with my hips. “Drove me crazy too.”
“Good.” His hands worked at my belt, clumsy with urgency. “I hated it. Hated pretending you’re just my roommate when I wanted—”
“What did you want?”
“This.” He got my belt open, shoved his hand down the front of my jeans, and wrapped his fingers around me. “You. I wanted everyone to know you’re mine.”
The possessiveness in his voice hit me somewhere primal. Tanner wasn’t usually like this. Usually, he was careful, hesitant, letting me lead. This was different. This was him staking a claim.
“Yours,” I managed, my hips jerking into his grip. “I’m yours.”
“Prove it.”
I hauled him off the wall and toward the bedroom, barely breaking contact long enough to navigate the hallway.
He was pulling at my clothes the whole way—jacket off, shirt yanked over my head, his mouth finding every inch of skin he exposed.
By the time we hit the bed, I was down to boxers, but he was still half-dressed.
“Off.” I tugged at his shirt. “All of it.”
He stripped with an efficiency that would have been funny if I hadn’t been so hard it hurt. When he was bare, I pushed him onto his back and pinned his wrists above his head.
“This okay?”
“Yes.” His breath came fast, pupils blown wide. “God, yes.”
I kissed down his throat, his chest, the taut plane of his stomach. He squirmed underneath me, testing my grip on his wrists, and when I held firm, he made a sound that had me grinding against the mattress for relief.
“I thought about this,” he said, voice wrecked. “At the bar. Every time some guy clapped your shoulder or called you Landry— I kept thinking about how you’re different with me. How I’m the only one who gets this version of you.”
“You are.” I nipped at his hip bone, felt him jolt. “You’re the only person who really knows all of me.”
“Show me.”
I let go of his wrists and reached for the nightstand. Condom, lube—the motions were becoming familiar now, comfortable in a way that still surprised me. When I slicked my fingers and pressed one inside him, Tanner’s back arched off the mattress.
“More.” His hand found my hair, tugging hard. “I don’t want gentle tonight.”
I gave him more. Two fingers, then three, working him open with a focus that made him curse and writhe. He was so responsive like this—every touch pulling sounds from him that I wanted to memorize.
“Now,” he demanded. “I’m ready.”
“Bossy.”
“You like it.”
I did. I really did.
I lined up and pushed in, watching his face for any sign of pain. What I found instead was hunger—desperate want that matched the pressure building in my own chest. When I was fully seated, I held still, letting us both adjust.
“Move,” Tanner said. His legs wrapped around my waist, heels digging into my lower back. “Seth, please—”
I moved.
Hard and deep, the way he’d asked for. The headboard knocked against the wall with every thrust, and I couldn’t bring myself to care about neighbors or noise or anything except the way Tanner was falling apart underneath me. His nails raked down my back. His voice broke on my name, over and over.
“Look at me.” I gripped his jaw, made him meet my eyes. “I want to see you.”
His gaze locked onto mine. I forgot how to breathe. Everything I felt for him—the terrifying depth of it, the way it had snuck up on me over months of shared coffee and late nights and falling asleep tangled together—rose in my throat. The words were right there, pressing against my teeth.
I almost said them. Almost let them spill out.
But then Tanner flipped us over, using the moment to take control. Suddenly, he was on top, sinking down onto me, rolling his hips with a confidence that hadn’t been there our first time.
“I need you to know,” he said, riding me with deliberate, devastating strokes. “What this means to me. What you mean to me.” His voice cracked. “I’ve never had this before. Never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
My hands found his hips, guiding him, urging him faster. “I know. Me too.”
“Promise me this is real.” He braced his hands on my chest, his rhythm faltering. “Promise me you’re not going anywhere.”
“I’m not.” I sat up, pulling him closer, our foreheads pressed together. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
He wrapped a hand around himself, stroking fast, and I knew neither of us would last much longer. His whole body was trembling, his breath coming in sharp gasps against my mouth.
“Seth—” His voice shattered.
He came with a shout, clenching around me, and the pressure sent me over the edge after him. I pulled him down against my chest as the shockwaves rolled through us, both of us shaking, both of us holding on.
Later, we lay tangled in sheets that needed washing, my hand tracing idle patterns on his back. The lamp cast warm shadows across the ceiling. Outside, someone was playing music too loud for midnight on a Saturday, but I couldn’t find it in me to care.
“I meant it,” Tanner said. His voice was sleep-rough, muffled against my chest. “What I said. About what this means.”
“I know.” I pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I meant mine too.”
“Good.” He shifted, propping his chin on my sternum to look at me. “Because I’m not taking it back.”
“I don’t want you to.”
His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, softened his jaw. The one he only gave me when no one else was watching.
“Tonight was hard,” he admitted. “Being at that bar, watching you be Landry. I kept thinking about how many people don’t get to know you like I do.
How they see the player, the teammate, but they don’t see how you make terrible coffee on purpose because you know I’ll get up and fix it.
Or how you sing off-key in the shower every single morning.
Or how you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. ”
My throat tightened. “How do I look at you?”
“Like I’m special.” He settled back against my chest, his weight warm and grounding. “Like you’d do anything for me.”
“You are, and I would.”
“I know. That’s the part I’m finally starting to believe.” His fingers traced lazy circles on my ribs. “Three more games.”
“Maybe four.”
“Then we’re done hiding.”
“Yeah.” I pulled him closer, thinking about Thanksgiving, about the phone calls I’d been ignoring, about the family who didn’t want to know me. “We need to figure out the details for the holidays.”
“We should.” His hand found mine, squeezed. “But not tonight.”
“No?”
“Tonight I just want this.” He pressed a kiss over my heart. “Tomorrow we can figure out the rest.”
He was right. We had time. We had each other.
And there were words building in my chest that I wasn’t ready to say yet—words that felt too big for this moment, too important to rush.
I’d almost said them earlier, in the heat of the moment, when he was looking at me like I was the answer to every question he’d ever asked.
But those words deserved more than a desperate confession in the middle of sex.
They deserved daylight. Intention. The certainty that I could back them up with everything I had.
Soon. I’d tell him soon.