Chapter 27 Ian
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
IAN
Ten thousand.
Publicity is never something I've chased. I like my circle loud and fun, but small. Having ten thousand people liking a post with me in it was never on my bucket list.
Either way, I won't complain about a sports blog reposting the picture of me and Callum. We look fucking great. Mostly Callum, if I’m being real. He’s a dream, and that picture is visual proof. Hell, if “picture-perfect” wasn’t already a phrase, this shot would jumpstart it.
But a gossip magazine reposting it and dubbing us “Dugout Daddies” is something I will complain about. We’re both twenty, for god’s sake—that’s closer to infancy than Daddy age, seriously.
Home Plate Hotties, Ballpark Boyfriends—those are all viable, better, alternatives.
Switch Pitching Sweethearts, too, although I'm the only one who's bi, and I'm not about to switch my affection away from Callum.
Ha, Tent Pitchers would work.
I snicker at my own creativity, and Sabrina smacks my leg. “Oh, are you too famous to talk to us now? I see how it is.”
Grabbing my glass of water, I grip it gently with my fingertips, pretending it’s a fragile crystal vessel. “Oh yes,” I croon. “You are most decidedly correct. I, for one, am far superior to you common vagrants now that I am of elevated repute.”
Not two seconds later, I get an ice cube to the face, courtesy of Nick. Then Callum picks it up, dropping it down the back of my shirt, making me yell. He’s such a douche, but I love him anyway. Or because of it.
I am so, so gone for this man.
“How are you still making horny eyes at Callum with an ice cube in your asscrack?” Nick asks.
“Because it gives me sexy flashbacks to what we did last night,” I shoot back, knowing full well that Callum and I gorged on lasagna and passed out at ten. Nothing happened.
“Ugh, gross,” Sabrina says, screwing her face up. “Get a room.”
“Uh, excuse me, but this is our house.” I give Callum a wet, exaggerated kiss on the lips for effect, and he gags along with Nick and Sabrina.
Nick shakes his head and stands up. “Alright, I think it’s time for us to get ready. I’m removing you.”
Before I have time to read into that, Nick hauls me up by the arm and gives me a playful shove toward the door. I glance back at Callum for support, hoping his possessive side comes out in my defense, but all he does is laugh.
And then he pushes me. On the ass.
He’s a damn traitor, but he’s my traitor.
“Bro, I don’t think that’s your size,” Nick says, squeezing my shoulders.
“It isn’t meant to be.” Our pre-game briefing ended a lot faster than I expected, and now I’m standing over the vinyl transfer machine in the athletic center, prepping a spare team hoodie.
“Wait a second…” Nick trails off as the machine beeps, and he peers over my shoulder as I lift the heating element. “That shit’s cute, not gonna lie.”
I smile, surveying my handiwork. I’ve customized the hoodie with my last name like all the others I have.
The only difference is that this one isn’t meant for me; it’s for Callum.
Call me egotistical, but I dig the idea of him walking around and coming to games in my hoodie—leaving my mark on him this way is a lot more wholesome than marring his neck with a bunch of hickeys, that’s for sure.
He sure has a good neck for that, though. So soft and supple. Grr.
“Do you think he’ll like it?” I ask, snapping out of my Callum-induced daydream.
“Buddy, have you seen the way Callum looks at you when you aren’t paying attention?” It takes a while for Nick to catch himself. “Right. Anyway, that guy is obsessed with you. He’ll love it.”
I pull out my phone to text Callum.
You here yet?
Callum Cross
Yeah, waiting outside
Hold tight I’m omw. Meet me at the third gate
Hoodie in hand, I dash outside and scan the crowd for Callum, homing in on his imposing, recognizable figure and making a beeline for him.
“Hey, Ian. What’s up?” he asks as I approach, bending down to give me a kiss.
I resist the urge to make out with him in public, limiting myself to a quick, chaste peck on the lips. “Nothing much, I wanted to give you some merch for the game.”
I hand the hoodie to Callum, who unfolds it and inspects the front.
“It looks nice, thank you.” He goes for a hug, and I stick an arm out to stop him, chuckling as I connect with his pec and give it a gratuitous, unnecessary squeeze.
“Cal, you should see the back,” I say, using my free hand to flip the hoodie around.
His eyes widen, a smile tugging at his lips and at my heartstrings. He runs a hand over my name on the back before slipping the sweater on, and my chest blooms with warmth when his head pokes out of the top.
“I love it,” he says, running a hand through his hair to mess it up again.
I shrug. “You don’t get to be the only possessive guy in this relationship.”
Callum grins. “Now everyone is gonna know I'm all yours.”
My god, I like the sound of that. “I'll make it so clear. Maybe I’ll play better if I know there’s a kiss waiting for me at the end of a game.”
“Hmm, I think I’ll have to keep climbing into the dugout to make out with you.”
As appealing as that sounds, it might raise some eyebrows. “That’s one way to make the news. You’d be all over the internet again.”
He leans into me, nudging his head onto mine and almost making me fall over. “That happened once. What’s one more time?”
“You wouldn’t be nervous or anything?” Shit. I shouldn’t stoke that, so I course-correct. “Not that you should be or anything, but—”
Callum chuckles and bumps his shoulder against mine.
“Ian, you don’t have to worry about me like this.
” He wraps me in a hug, and I get a sudden, predictable urge to skip today’s game and climb my boyfriend like a sexy jungle gym instead.
“I want people to know we're together. Everyone, even people from my hometown. Man, I wish I still had friends from there who could update me.”
“And that'd get back to your parents,” I remind him.
He gives me a casual, unbothered tilt of the head. “I’m not scared of them anymore. I can’t live my life concerned with what they’d think about me, not when I chose to slip out at midnight and leave them behind.”
“I’m so proud of you.” I beckon Callum down for another kiss, and he obliges, brushing his lips across mine so gently, I grab the back of his neck and pull him in out of instinct.
Scoffing, he jerks away and swats my ass. “Enough of that, lover boy. Go play baseball.”