Chapter 4 #2
“Yeah, I wanna say me too,” Dawson confessed, leaning in again, “but then I think about how unhappy I was—how unhappy we both were—and I think, am I really sorry? I’m sorry it got ugly, for sure, and even sorrier that her dad is an asshole and stole from me.
I’m sure fucking sorry the whole mess distracted me from what I’m good at.
From my job. But other than that . . .” Dawson took a deep breath, and he looked like he was really realizing this for the first time, expression tinged with surprise. “I guess I’m not that sorry.”
Cam wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react. “Uh.”
“Shit. Sorry,” Dawson said, and then winced. “I didn’t mean to unload like that. Maybe Aidan’s right and I should be talking about it.”
“He’s Aidan Flynn, I can’t imagine he’s ever wrong,” Cam said. Had he been starstruck the first time he’d met the Thunder’s QB1? Maybe a little. It was hard, when Aidan looked like that and not only had that natural air of confidence to him, but two Super Bowl rings.
“Oh boy,” Dawson said, groaning. “He’s wrong all the fucking time. Don’t tell me you think he’s hot, too.”
Dawson didn’t sound very happy about that possibility—actually pissed off about it, in fact—that Cam was tempted to tell him that while yes, Aidan was hot, he found Dawson hot too. Hotter, in fact.
But Dawson was finally including him. Sitting with him at lunch. Asking him to dinner. Chatting with him like he wasn’t just the stupid rookie, afraid to leave his apartment, but like he was a friend. He couldn’t fuck it up by making things uncomfortable. Not now.
“Uh yeah, don’t you?”
Dawson made a face. “When you’ve seen him puking in a bush outside a shitty frat house in Lansing, it sort of sucks the hotness out,” Dawson said frankly.
The waitress appeared then, and they ordered.
Cam hesitantly pointing to a handful of pictures, and Dawson confidently rattling off dish after dish like he’d been ordering Thai food for years.
Then he added two orders of the beef satay skewers—because, he said, “You didn’t, and if Aidan finds out I didn’t take his rec, he’ll be insufferable. ”
“Aidan doesn’t strike me as the puking-in-a-bush type,” Cam wondered, because they were apparently still talking about Aidan. He was way too put together for that, even when he’d been younger. Controlled, even.
“Oh, he’s not. Not normally. Not even back then, but once in a while? Like I mean really, once in a while. Like maybe once. But once is all it takes, you know? Once I saw him crouched over that bush, it was all over.”
Cam had had a few friends like that back in college. Friends he’d thought, maybe, when he’d first met them, and then even if he’d found them attractive, they’d ended up firmly in friends territory.
“Anyway,” Dawson continued, “do not assume that Aidan Flynn’s some kind of perfect football god, because he’s not. He’s an idiot like the rest of us.”
“Even if he sends you restaurant recommendations?” Cam asked.
“Even if he’s stupidly self-sacrificing and goes out of his way to invite us to the o-line dinner. Which we’re going to, by the way.”
“We are?” Cam wasn’t sure why they would, but he wasn’t about to turn down an invite, especially not if it was Aidan Flynn issuing it.
“Yeah. He’s woken up from his cock-drunk state and realized that he’s left us alone, which . . .I’m not mad about that, to be honest, because he’s an annoying busybody, but we’ll let him have this one.”
“We will?”
Dawson shot him a look. “Rook. Keep up.”
Cameron couldn’t help the smile that bloomed across his face, even though he’d tried to keep it under wraps. “Alright,” he said. “If we’re invited, I suppose we’d better go.”
“Damn straight,” Dawson said, grinning. “Plus, it’s on Aidan’s dime and he’s a snob, so it’ll be good.”
Their food arrived then, looking delicious and smelling even better, and Dawson added as he picked up a beef skewer, “Don’t tell him that though. His ego is big enough.”
“Oh. Okay.” Cam was still having trouble actually saying anything to Aidan’s face, so he didn’t think that was going to be too much of a problem.
“Dig in,” Dawson said, between bites of beef satay, “and don’t let me eat all of these. Trust me, you’re gonna want to try one.”
They were delicious. Tender and bursting with flavor, and the peanut sauce on the side? Cam was tempted, for one single moment, to pick it up and just slurp the entire bowl down.
His noodles were really good, too, and it lifted his confidence just a little that he’d done a good job picking for himself, even though all he’d had to go on was the description and the picture.
“Yeah,” Dawson said, smirking, as Cam barely came up for air. “I knew you’d do okay.” He reached over, patting Cam on the hand. “You’re too hard on yourself, rook.”
Cam stared at his plate, already half-gone. “You were right,” he said. “Toronto has been a real eye-opener.”
“Yeah?” Dawson glanced up. There was still no judgment in his face. “I bet it is. And I should’ve realized it sooner that nobody else was watching out for you.”
Humiliation flashed in his stomach, hot and fast. “I’m twenty-two. A grown man. I don’t need to be watched out for,” Cam retorted.
“Yeah, you do,” Dawson argued mildly. “The fact that you don’t think you do means you really do. The NFL is a big adjustment, even for guys coming from the major colleges. And you definitely didn’t come from one of the big schools.”
“No,” Cam agreed. Western State had been tiny, and he’d only gotten national attention for his skill because they’d ended up playing two top twenty-five teams for a much-needed payday his senior year.
Otherwise, probably very few pro GMs would’ve even known he existed.
But he’d had some really great punts exactly when his team had needed them, and people had sat up and taken notice.
“This is the way,” Dawson said, between bites of fried rice. “The way things are done. The vets watch out for the rookies. But I didn’t the way I should’ve. Guess that’s another thing I’m sorry about.”
“You don’t need to be,” Cam argued. That embarrassment was still curdling in his stomach, no matter how good the food was. He didn’t want Dawson’s apology or to be treated like some hick who didn’t know anything—even if that might be partially true.
“Yeah, I do.” Dawson’s hazel eyes were soft and serious. “I was stuck in my own shit. And Joey might’ve done it instead, but he’s busy with that whole pack of kids, and there’s a hierarchy to these things. You should know about that. Even at a small school, things can’t be that different.”
“Yeah, I get that because it wasn’t. Not really,” Cam said. It was why he’d been demurring to both Dawson and Joey, because they both had lots of NFL experience, and because Dawson was one of the team captains.
He wasn’t about to force his company—or even worse, his fucking issues—onto Dawson.
“That why you were sitting with Duke and Jack at lunch today?”
“Maybe I just like them,” Cam said, aware of how defensive he sounded.
“You can like them, but they’re still practically practice squad guys. You should be hanging out with the starters. You’re a starter, rook.”
“Joey spends all his time with the linemen, and then you . . .” Cam swallowed hard. “You’ve known Aidan a long time, so it tracks that you’d hang out with him.”
“Shit,” Dawson said, and Cam knew he’d said too much because realization was dawning, clear and obvious on Dawson’s face.
“Don’t—” Cam warned, fork clattering to his plate.
Dawson shoved another beef skewer at his face. Cam didn’t want to take it, but it was hard to resist when they were that good. After dipping it in the heaven-sent peanut sauce, he groaned a little around the first tender bite of meat.
“Yeah, for sure we’re never telling Aidan how right he was about those,” Dawson muttered under his breath. “But back to you, I get it. I was with Aidan, and you weren’t gonna encroach on Aidan Flynn at work.”
It was true, but Cam didn’t like admitting to being intimidated. “Yeah, sort of, I guess. But I do like Duke and Jack. They’re cool guys.”
“Cool enough to show a whole presentation about me?” Dawson asked, his eyebrow lifting up.
“Ugh, don’t listen to them. It wasn’t a presentation, it was just me pointing out a few things when Duke kept defending the Ravens, when they shouldn’t ever have treated you like that—”
“Yeah, they probably should’ve,” Dawson said flatly and then looked surprised again, like he’d never expected to admit that out loud, or to admit it to Cam.
“No,” Cam argued. “Sure, there was a tiny rough patch, but it wasn’t that long or that rough.”
“It was long and it was super rough,” Dawson said honestly.
“I was there for it. It still sucks that they didn’t feel the same kind of loyalty to me that I felt for them.
I’m allowed to be pissed about that, and I am.
But this is a business, and the sooner you realize that, the less this stuff will fuck you up. ”
Cam nodded, though he secretly wasn’t sure he’d ever be realistic enough about his situation for it not to fuck him up.
He’d stayed focused and told himself a hundred times—maybe even a thousand—during training camp, that if he didn’t win the position from the old punter, that was okay.
He’d end up somewhere, even if that somewhere wasn’t Toronto.
“It was a lot to expect you to deliver under those circumstances,” Cam argued.
He wasn’t going to let Dawson beat himself up when he’d been through a war in his personal life, frankly was still going through it, to some extent, and that was the reason why he’d had so much trouble making kicks when they mattered.
“Yes but no.” Dawson sighed. “Anyway, I’ve been way too focused on my own shit. I’m sorry for that. And I’m gonna try to do better. Try to do different, anyway.”
“Okay,” Cam said, swallowing hard. It felt good to hear it.
Maybe Dawson hadn’t known he was struggling—not necessarily drowning, but no question churning up the current as he trod water—and maybe Dawson wouldn’t ever have the full picture.
But that he was stepping up now felt good. Reassuring, honestly.
“So expect a lot more of these dinners,” Dawson said. “We’re both new to Toronto, so it only feels right we should work our way through Aidan’s list.”
“How long is the list?” Cam wondered, picking his fork back up and shoving another forkful of delicious noodles into his mouth. If all the recs were as good as this one, he was going to get spoiled.
“Decent enough. We can add some more places, too, if you’ve got your eye on anything you want to try,” Dawson said.
“I know Aidan doesn’t strike you as the guy you’d go to for a best of Toronto list but that guy is so disciplined, if he’s going to eat something off the meal plan, he’s going to make sure it’s damn good when he’s doing it. ”
“Makes sense,” Cam said. He paused. Wondered if he’d earned enough of Dawson’s attention and trust to ask what he wanted to. Belly full of good food, he decided even if he hadn’t, he was going to ask anyway. “So you really never with Aidan Flynn?”
Dawson laughed. “God, rook, you are adorable. Really fucking cute. Sorry to burst all your fantasies but no, we never did. We were just friends. I didn’t even know Aidan was queer, to be honest. Kind of disappointed I was like the last to fucking know.”
“Sucks.” Cam exchanged a commiserating glance with him.
“Probably better for everyone I didn’t.” Dawson grinned. “We’d have been a hot mess.”
“One of those, for sure,” Cam retorted.
“Aw, you are cute.”
As they finished up dinner and Dawson argued about grabbing the check—promising he’d let Cam pay for the next dinner they shared—Cam kept thinking about that.
It was nice Daws thought he was cute, but the more he turned it over in his head, the more he didn’t love the way he said it.
Like Cam was some kind of small purse dog that you’d pet the head of and then barely spare a second thought for.
“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” Cam asked as they walked into the elevator. He pressed his floor and then realized, belatedly, that he didn’t actually know which floor Dawson lived on.
Dawson shot him a look, complicated and layered. Some guilt, some apology, a wry kind of humor like he’d just realized that they’d lived in the same building for months now, and Cam had never even been to his place. He pressed Nine.
“Eight? Traffic blows no matter what time we leave, which I’m sure you’ve discovered,” Dawson said.
“Yeah,” Cam said. “Food’s good here, sure, but the traffic is ass.”
“Just wait til the winter,” Dawson said knowingly.
Cam chuckled as the elevator came to a stop at his floor. “From Montana, dude.”
“Oh. Right.” Dawson shot him a lopsided smile. “Well, see you tomorrow morning, rook?”
“Sounds good,” Cam said, nodding.
Dawson patted him on the shoulder briefly, and there it was.
Like he was a purse dog.
Cam told himself it was better to be a purse dog than to be forgotten. But he found it hard to quite believe it, even after he’d let himself into his place and put the leftovers into the fridge.
Still, it was an improvement to pull up the text convo with his dad and be able to send, hung out with a teammate tonight. grabbed some food, it was really good.
Because, Cam thought later as he relaxed into bed, it had been.