Chapter 20 #3
I’m vaguely aware of the door opening and the brief hum of traffic and outside noise filtering in before it becomes muffled again in favor of clanging weights and upbeat music.
“Looking good this morning, Fergie,” Butch says, and I jerk my head up from my phone so fast I’m surprised I don’t get whiplash.
Diego saunters in looking exactly the same as he always does, with his gym bag over his shoulder and a carefree, borderline cocky smile.
It’s the same smile that first drew me in and had me checking his social media daily, hoping for new selfies or workout videos before I ever met him.
It’s not his real smile though, I know that now.
His real smile is more subtle, and it’s not even my favorite expression his face makes.
The flash of determination when he’s facing a challenge is up at the top, right after the slack, pleasured one when he comes.
He nods at Butch and offers him a fist bump, then his eyes immediately start to roam the gym… looking for me. As soon as they land on me, his smile shifts to a more natural one. I can’t read him though. Is he happy? Resigned? Processing whatever news he just got?
I tilt my head towards the locker room, and he gives a subtle nod and follows me.
“Just because Dre gave up and took down the ‘no shower sex’ signs doesn’t mean it’s a free-for-all in there,” Fender calls after us.
I instinctively shoot him the finger over my shoulder, then tense and glance at Diego to make sure he’s not embarrassed or freaked out by the teasing.
He snorts a laugh and follows me into the locker room without making a big deal out of it though.
It’s midmorning on a Monday, so the gym is quiet and so is the locker room.
I can hear the squeak of shoes against the tile floor and the low chatter of voices somewhere near the back, but otherwise we’re alone.
As soon as the door swings closed behind us, I wrap my arm around Diego’s waist and pull him down the first aisle, into a corner next to the showers so no one will see us.
I need to know what happened. I need to know how he’s feeling and if he’s only here to say goodbye.
But first I need to kiss him, just in case this is the last time.
With one arm still around his waist, I slide my other hand along his jaw, feeling the rough stubble under my fingertips and tracing a small, almost invisible scar with my thumb.
His lips part and his hands find their way under my tank top to rest on my stomach, warm and steadying even as my heart makes a valiant attempt to beat right the hell out of my chest. And then our lips are meeting.
The kiss isn’t rough and horny like the other night when he fucked me, but it isn’t soft and sweet either, like the next morning over coffee.
It’s a little bit needy, and I don’t think that’s only on my end.
Our tongues move together in a way that feels like a plea for reassurance and an answer all at once, our fingers digging in like we’re both afraid to let go.
I can’t tell if it’s a goodbye or not, and the longer it goes on, the more worried I am that it might be.
I finally break the kiss and rest my forehead against his, both of us breathing heavily, tucked into a quiet corner where we can pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist for a minute or two.
“So?” I try to keep my tone light.
“I’m not traded.”
My whole body sags with relief. “Fuck,” I mutter. “That’s awesome. I’m so glad.”
I pull him in for another kiss now that I know that it’s not the end. Not yet, anyway. It buys us another two months, and that’s something. I’ll worry about the real goodbye when it comes and keep letting myself get lost in this fantasy for now.
Our lips fall into a more playful rhythm this time, and I can feel the smile on his face.
“I’m going to have to work my ass off this year,” he says, breathless and still smiling when we come up for air again. “And apparently the whole coaching staff is stressed that I’m going to create a hostile environment in the locker room or whatever because of what Brody did.”
“So it’s on you to keep the peace?” I scoff.
He shrugs. “Apparently. My contract is up after this year, so I have the most to lose.”
Diego meets my eyes and I can see more there than just what went down with his ex. He’s trying to tell me that he can’t see himself coming out when he’s already on thin ice. I didn’t expect him to.
“You’re gonna have the best season of your career, Fergie.” I press another hard kiss to his lips. “And everything else is going to work itself out in its own time.”
He nods, and I can tell he’s not any more satisfied with that answer than I am, but it’s all we’ve got.
“Will you come over tonight?” he asks.
“Of course.” I smirk and finally pry myself off of him, reaching down to adjust my erection in my jock. “But don’t think the promise of sex later means I’m going to go easy on you this morning, Fergie. If you want to earn a new contract this season, you have to grind.”
“Yes, Coach.” He laughs, wiping the back of his hand across his damp lips and adjusting his erection too.
“Good. Then it’s time to work up a sweat.”