Chapter 3 #2
“Amazed you actually know what that means,” Cam said, laughing under his breath.
Joey exchanged a knowing glance with Dawson. He knew he should keep his fucking mouth shut, but when had Dawson ever been good at that? Never, that was when.
“Like you’d know anything about it,” Dawson snarked back.
Cam’s eyes went wide. Surprised. “Why, you wanna show me, Daws?” he teased.
Shit.
Joey started to laugh, even though they were all exhausted.
“Yeah, he called your ass there, bud,” Joey said.
Dawson rolled his eyes. But he felt it, the press of Cam’s suggestion against his skin, even if it was a joke, as he stripped down in the locker room and staggered into the showers.
Clearly, he needed to get laid. Especially if he was thinking about showing the rook the pleasure of a well-placed bruise. Of a grip that was a shade too tight.
He was still feeling it after grabbing his burrito bowl at the cafeteria.
Knew he should go sit with Aidan, who was pressed thigh to thigh, laughing at something Levi was showing him on his phone.
That was definitely the safer choice. Maybe a slightly aggravating one, if only because the pair of them were so smug.
Trevor and Lane were sitting at the same table, exchanging glances like they were currently eating shards of glass. So they were being like that.
But then he looked over, at one of the far end tables, and Cameron was sitting there—not alone, that would have made the decision easy—along with a few of the backup defensive guys.
Brynn had never believed him when he’d told her about the semi-rigid hierarchy of the NFL cafeteria situation. “It sounds like we’re back in high school and I’m worried about the popular girls,” she’d said, rolling her eyes.
But it could be exactly like that, and worse.
It was up to leaders like Dawson to make sure that it never got that bad.
He sighed heavily and took his tray over to where Cam was sitting.
“Hey,” he said to Cam, who looked up in surprise. Like he’d written off Dawson ever sitting with him. Like he’d just expected Dawson to take his stupid ass right over to where Aidan was sitting.
“Hey,” Cam said, through a bite of chicken caesar wrap.
The two defensive guys eyed him like they thought he was lost.
And wow, that was a problem. How had things gotten this bad without Dawson even realizing it?
He gave them both a nod and then told himself he could do better than that. “Hey, I’m Dawson,” he said, and took in their surprise that a vet and a starter, probably a guy that would end up in the Hall of Fame with a gold jacket one day, was acknowledging their existence.
Double shit.
“Hey,” the one with the broader shoulders said. “I’m Duke.”
“Jack,” the other one said.
“Nice to meet you guys,” Dawson said. There were only fifty-two other guys on the fucking roster. There was no excuse for him to not know everyone’s name.
“I was on the Ravens’ practice squad two years ago,” Duke said. “Good team.”
Dawson barely held back the face he wanted to make.
Real nice fucking team. Letting him go like he was washed up and old, just because he’d missed a few kicks.
But he was trying not to be bitter about it. Not succeeding, maybe, but trying.
“Oh yeah,” Dawson said, trying for casual agreement.
“Come on, dude,” Cam argued, “you can’t think that, not after they treated Dawson here like a piece of trash.”
Dawson’s eyebrows skidded up, but Duke didn’t look surprised.
“Yeah, we know you’re obsessed with Hall,” Duke teased.
And Dawson realized they’d discussed this before. How often had Cam sat with these two at lunch?
“Ride or die,” Jack agreed and then fist-bumped with Duke.
Dawson tried not to blush. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Dude, we’re really not.”
It was Cam’s turn to flush bright red. “Guys,” he warned.
“He’ll go to bat for you, no matter what,” Duke said, sounding amused. “He practically wrote a presentation about it. Showed us a whole YouTube of all your career highlights.”
Cam cleared his throat. “We don’t need to talk about that.”
It was very stupid. Dawson shouldn’t feel any kind of way about this. But he was touched. Thrilled. In a place he had zero business feeling a thrill when it came to the rookie.
“I think we do,” Dawson joked.
Cam looked so fucking earnest. “You’ve just made so many money kicks, in important spots. You’ve won championship games and even a Super Bowl. Like you are lights-out, Daws, and nothing’s changed.”
It felt good, being glazed like this, the rookie gazing at him with those sweet brown eyes and that even sweeter face.
He wanted to bask in it for a moment longer.
“Thanks,” he said.
A month ago, he might’ve argued, but it was true. He had won championships and there was a Super Bowl ring in the drawer next to his bed, at home. A Super Bowl he’d brought home with a fifty-four-yard field goal.
“I—we—got your back,” Cam said, patting him on it.
For a split second Dawson wanted to ask if he’d meant what he’d started to say: that he had his back. Not the team. Not the collective table. But him.
But that would be insane and Dawson was trying to not be insane today.
Still, after he finished his food, he caught Aidan by the trash can.
“Hey,” he said, “is that dinner invite still open?”
Aidan looked at him bluntly. “Yes.”
“Count me in.” Dawson hesitated. “For two spots, actually.”
Raising an eyebrow, Aidan asked, “Who else is coming?”
“I’m gonna bring the rookie,” Dawson said.
Aidan’s eyebrow notched even higher. “Oh, yeah?”
“Don’t,” Dawson said. His face was burning brighter now than it had when Cam had been praising him. “It’s just . . .it’s not like that.”
“Like what?” Aidan asked innocently.
“Like whatever your suddenly dirty mind is thinking.”
Aidan lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I wasn’t thinking a damn thing, Daws, but if you want to bring him, the more the merrier.”
“Someone has to look out for the rookie.” Dawson hated how self-conscious he sounded. How defensive.
It wasn’t like that.
“That’s what I keep telling you,” Aidan said, slinging an arm around Dawson’s shoulders. Chill and relaxed in a way that Dawson was still getting used to. “You’re just finally listening.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dawson grumped. Hating the guilt that swirled in the base of his stomach. “Mark us down for all of them, going forward.”
“Seriously?”
“You can afford to buy two more of us steak on a weekly basis,” Dawson argued.
“It’s not about that. It’s just been pulling teeth getting you to do anything with the team, and now, suddenly, you’re there and you’re there with the rookie. You sure it’s not like that?” Aidan was not usually the kind of guy who teased. Especially not over this.
But Levi’s dick apparently had magical properties.
“Jeez, way to make a guy feel bad,” Dawson said. Hesitated. “Well, worse. Way to make a guy actually feel worse.”
“Daws,” Aidan said sympathetically. “I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
“Honest to God, if I did, you’d be my first call,” Dawson promised. That made him feel itchy, too. Everyone expecting him to talk about his fucking feelings, and that was the last thing he wanted. He just wanted to focus on anything else.
Of course, he hadn’t been doing a very good job of that, either.
“Good,” Aidan said. Giving him one last squeeze. “I’ll put you and Cam down for the dinner. And it’s good you’re hanging out with him.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dawson said, brushing the praise off.
It was the least he could do, and he could definitely stand to do a little bit more.