15. Lennon
CHAPTER 15
LENNON
The night of the College Football Championship
Houston, Texas
I wince in my seat, tucked away in the corner of this loud and rowdy bar. In true Texas fashion, there's country music blaring over the speakers and a mechanical bull bucking drunk people off of it's back in the middle of the room. I've already watched three of my teammates try their luck at taming the beast, only to be thrown off in spectacular style. Any other day I'd be one of them, but the deep bruise blossoming on my ribcage from a hard as fuck hit I took earlier in the game prevents me from hopping in line to see how long I can last on the machine.
It's a shame, because I'm convinced I could leave all those motherfuckers in the dust. It's all in the thighs, and my meaty quads were built for bull riding.
Breaker is sitting next to me and leaning towards my arm, the one I have slung over the booth behind us. It's dangerously close to sitting on his shoulders where I really, really , want it to be. I manage to show some restraint, only letting my fingertips brush at the sleeve of his dress shirt ever so slightly. It's painful, holding myself back, but it's a familiar pain. One I've been feeling for a year. Ever since I realized that the admiration and love that I feel towards Breaker goes so far beyond "just" a best friend, I've hurt every single day that I've had to pretend that everything I feel is completely platonic.
B is nursing a beer while talking to our team captain, who is sitting on his other side. I decided to stick with water tonight, both because I know I'm going to be popping ibuprofen like candy tonight while I nurse this wound and want to take it easy on my liver, but also because I've decided tonight is the night, and I want to be clear headed for it.
Yup. I'm going to do it. I'm going to tell Breaker that I have feelings for him. Real feelings. Romantic feelings. Sexual feelings. To be honest, I wanted to tell him a year ago, the first time I realized that I didn't just want to be around him all the time, but that I wanted to touch him, kiss him, make him mine. The only thing holding me back besides the possibility of ruining our friendship was the sake of the team. Losing Breaker as my best friend over something like this is guaranteed to destroy me, but losing him and still having to spend every day during the season together? There's no way I'm strong enough to handle it.
So I compromised with myself. I decided that I would wait until this season was over before I opened my mouth. I'm all done, I'm graduating, and if all goes well I'll be getting drafted in a few months. The season is over, we're champs. Tonight is the last night Breaker and I will have to share a hotel room together. If shit hits the fan, I'll be free to lick my wounds and nurse my broken heart in peace.
Breaker laughs at something, throwing his head all the way back like a little kid. I catch a whiff of his delicious peppermint shampoo, the one I sometimes steal when we're at away games just so I can smell like him a little bit, and my insides turn molten. Cap scoots out of the booth, I'm assuming to head to the bar for another drink, and B turns towards me.
"You ready to get out of here?" he asks, and I think of what it might feel like if his intentions behind that question were more salacious. Like he can't sit in this room another minute because he's as desperate to get his hands on me as I am to get mine on him. But no, he just knows I don't want to stay out late tonight. I nod and start to scooch, my hips bumping his as I urge him out of the booth. Thankfully, we manage to sneak out without running into any teammates. That would have inevitably led to guys trying to shove drinks in our hands and begging us to stay in the name of team camaraderie. The walk back to the hotel is short, just a half a block, and Breaker chats away about his chances of being named Team Captain next season. I assure him that he has it in the bag, because he does.
Truthfully, I'm happy for his nervous small talk. It makes it easier for me to push my own nerves down.
The moment we're in the room, I'm yanking at my stiff dress clothes and quickly sliding into my flannel pajama pants. Breaker changes too, keeping his back to me as he slips into a pair of joggers. He always looks away while I change. I know it's because he thinks I'm straight and is trying to respect my boundaries. I don't blame him. I thought I was straight until a year ago, and now that I realize I'm…bi? Pan? Unclear, but definitely queer — I understand the urge to keep my eyes to myself around other men. I avert my gaze quickly, not wanting to ogle him against his will.
I flop onto Breaker's bed as he heads to the bathroom. I turn on the TV, flipping through the channels until I find Forrest Gump only about half an hour in to its running time. Breaker joins me, propping himself up next to me in bed where I lie, and we watch our comfort movie together. The whole time, I'm half paying attention to the movie, half paying attention to Breaker. He's so soft like this, melting into the hotel bed and mouthing the dialogue along with Tom Hanks and Robin Wright. My heart beats painfully in my chest, and I decide right now is the time. I'm ready to put my heart out on the line.
I turn towards him, tucking my shaking hands under the pillow. I drink him in, marveling at the way his joggers cling to his thick thighs, his nipples poking through the material of his white tee, likely hard from the chill of the AC unit. His hair is mussed in the back from leaning against the headboard, and his chest rises and falls with slow, even breaths. He glances down at me and immediately winces. My eyebrows crease, but he reaches his fingertips out and runs them lightly over the black and blue bruise on my ribs. I try and fail miserably at suppressing my shiver, and my cock stirs in my pants.
"You need an ice bath," he whispers worriedly.
"I had one at the facility before we left for the bar. The trainers and the docs checked me out. Nothing is broken, don't worry," I assure him with a soft smile, and he scoffs sarcastically.
"I wasn't worried for you, dick. I was worried for the team. Who else is gonna lug me over the line of scrimmage if you're on IR?" he asks, and we both laugh even as the truth settles over me. I won't be lugging him over the line of scrimmage again. Tonight was my last game as a Panther. My last game as Breaker's center. I steady my breath, and get ready to launch into the speech I've practiced in my head over and over again for weeks.
B, listen. I have feelings for you beyond just friendship. I've had them for a while. I don't know exactly what it means, but I know that I want you. I think that I would enjoy dating you, getting to know each other on a deeper level. If that's not something you're interested in, that's okay, but I can't keep living a lie anymore. My feelings for you are so much more than platonic.
I bite my lip, and to my dismay, Breaker pulls his hand away from my sides. I falter for a moment, but as he stares down at me, I swear I see something glistening in his eyes.
"B," I whisper, reaching out and running a fingertip down his bicep, following one of his prominent blue veins that stick out even when he's not flexing.
"Yeah, Len?" he asks, his voice rasping around my name. I take a beat, take a breath, steel my nerves a I ready myself to confess my deepest secret. Breaker opens his mouth, and I blink slowly, hoping that whatever he's going to say doesn't cause me to lose it. He shuts it just as quickly, and then my word vomit comes out.
"I love you, Breaker," my voice is so timid and foreign sounding to my own ears, and I freeze in shock when I realize what I've just said. I close my eyes, wishing I could go back in time five seconds and slap a hand over my own mouth. When I look up, Breaker looks like he swallowed a mouthful of sand and is trying not to choke it up. My lip trembles, and I feel the impending doom wash over us.
He rubs at his face, clearly pained. Fuck. He doesn't want me. I knew this was a possibility, but I hadn't prepared myself for the stabbing pain I'd feel in my chest at the clear disinterest on my friend's face.
"I…ummm. Huh. You love me?" he stutters, and I swallow hard. I could power through. I could double down. Maybe he's just in shock. Maybe he needs more explanation.
But no. The way he's looking down his nose at me, his face a mixture of regret and something that looks an awful lot like disgust. It's clear. He knows exactly what I meant, and he has no intent of reciprocating my feelings. My mouth works faster than my brain can keep up with, spitting out the only thing I think will smooth this over without having to acknowledge the reality of the situation I've put us in.
"Of course I do," I tell him, trying to hide the disappointed crack in my voice. "You're like the brother I never had."
My stomach roils and I swallow down the bile rising in my throat. I close my eyes and bury my face into the pillow, acting like I'm ready to sleep. I have no desire to see or hear any more of Breaker's reactions, not when my heart is shattered and scraping at the inside of my chest.
It's the one time in my life that I'm thankful for my typical light snoring, because there's a chance that the muffled sniffles from the tears steadily falling down my face will be mistaken by Breaker as simply the sound of me sleeping.