19. Breaker
CHAPTER 19
brEAKER
Now
San Francisco, California
A loud snore startles me from the midnight dark of my peaceful, dreamless sleep. I stir, eyes adjusting to the bright white sunlight shining into the room through the crack of the window. I try to shift, but I'm held in place by two muscular, warm, soft arms. The proximity startles me. I can't remember the last time I shared a bed with anyone, let alone a man. I blink, confused, before reality settles in around me.
I'm in Lennon's hotel room. I'm in Lennon's arms.
I'm naked in Lennon's hotel room in Lennon's naked arms.
Last night…
Holy shit last night actually happened. We kissed. I kissed Lennon. Lennon kissed me. We did…stuff. We got each other off. More than once. I told him I'm in love with him. He said he's in love with me.
The words on his lips do laps around my mind, an endless loop of insanity that I need a moment to wrap my head around.
The more I think it, the more it sinks in.
Lennon and I are in love with each other.
I look up at Lennon from where my head is resting on his chest, now able to see him a bit more clearly since my eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the room. Our bodies rise and fall with each of his slow, sleepy breaths. His face is soft, and a slight smile plays at the corner of his lips.
I've woken up next to Lennon a thousand times, but I've never once seen him smiling in his sleep. A bright orb of golden light warms my chest at the possibility that I put that smile there. I think back to the shower last night, how tenderly Lennon treated me as I broke down in his arms. I believe him when he says he forgives me. I believe him when he says he still wants me. It might take awhile for me to come to terms with how poorly I've dealt with things over the last year, but knowing that I get to have Lennon by my side while I work through my self-loathing, knowing he's giving me the opportunity to be a better man for him?
Yeah. That feels really, really good.
Lennon snores again, and this time it doesn't startle me, but I can't help the chuckle that escapes my mouth. I already knew that he sometimes snores, but it only ever happens when he lays on his back like he is right now. I'll have to remember that when we go to bed later and make sure we're in a spooning position when we go to sleep tonight.
If we go to sleep together, that is. I mean, I feel like we should, shouldn't we? Or is that moving too soon?
Is there such a thing as 'too soon' when two people realize they've wanted each other for as long as we have? I felt like we talked about so much last night, but right now it feels like we haven't discussed anything at all.
I mean, is Lennon my boyfriend?
Dear god, I hope so.
He snores again, the loudest one yet, loud enough to wake himself up. He startles, squeezing me tight against his body as his eyes flash open in fear and the kind of confusion that only comes with being woken suddenly, and I lose it. I can't stop laughing, even as he looks around and tries to find his bearings. Even though he's got my body in a death grip, my laugh comes out hard enough that my whole chest shakes with it.
"Why are you laughing? What happened?" he asks, and as bad as it sounds, the panic in his voice makes me laugh even harder. He pulls his arms out from underneath me and sits up, leaning against the headboard. I roll off of him in the process, and I bury my face into a pillow as tears start to stream down my face from the force of my laughter. I'm not even making sounds anymore, just gasping for breath as my abs contract and ache in amusement.
"Breaker, if you don't tell me what's so funny right this second…" Lennon threatens, and I lift a hand, waving it dismissively at him. He snags it, pulling me towards him and lifting my dead weight form effortlessly from my prone position on my back and draping me across his lap. I wiggle as my laughter dies down, getting myself into a sitting position on his thighs. Our bottom halves are covered in a tangled mess of sheets and blankets, but I can still feel the warmth of his skin on my ass as I settle into him.
Finally, I catch my breath enough to answer him.
"You snored yourself awake, honey. I think you scared yourself because as soon as you were up, you grabbed me so tight. Your sleepy self was trying to protect me. I was laughing because it was your own snore that you were protecting me from." I wrap my arms around his neck as his hands settle on my lower back. He huffs out a small laugh and then presses his forehead against mine.
"Oh, thank god. I thought you were laughing at us. I could've sworn you were going to tell me last night was a mistake." He trails his fingertips over the bare expanse of my back and I feel goosebumps form on my arms and I thicken under the blanket. As if I could think last night was a mistake.
In fact, all the things that led us here, the sleepless nights, the arguments, the longing? None of it could be a mistake if it got us to right here, right now.
I push up so that our faces are at eye level. I rub the tip of my nose against his, ready to say 'fuck it' to the morning breath I know we're both sporting and attack his mouth, but Lennon pulls back.
"B?" he asks
"Yes, Len?"
"How the hell did you know what room I would be in last night?"
I suddenly remember the lax security and the reason I should've insisted we left and stayed at my place last night. Alas, I was too sex drunk to think straight. I purse my lips, then pat at his chest as I get off the bed.
"Yeah, we can talk about that at breakfast," I say, finding my discarded pants and pulling them up over my bare ass. "You're not staying in this hotel ever again."
We drop off Lennon's truck in the secure parking garage at my apartment building and run upstairs so that I could change out of my party clothes and into a simple pair of jeans and an old Penwood U tee. After, Len and I walk half a block from my place to this literal hole in the wall restaurant that serves the most incredible omelets I've ever had in my life. We're both donning baseball caps, though his is flipped backwards while mine is on straight.
"You might regret that," I say, flicking the brim of his hat as I hold the door to the restaurant open for him.
"Why?" I ask as he struts towards the host stand. He tells the person standing there that we'd like a table for two, and they start to fiddle with menus and the iPad propped up on their podium.
"You don't go out in the city much, do you?" I ask, just as a little girl sitting on a bench by the window with who I assume is her grown-up shrieks. We glance over, and sure enough, both the girl—who looks like she can't be much older than six—and her dad are both gaping in our direction, dressed in matching 'Property of the San Francisco Redwoods' t shirts. Since that day on the train in Philadelphia, I've been noticed in public a handful of times, so I'm used to it at this point.
Okay, so it's been more than a handful. It's been so many times that I've lost count, but I don't make it a habit of talking about it. The last thing I want to do is come off like a braggy asshole.. I don't know how often Lennon gets recognized, though. I would have assumed just as often if not more, but he seems genuinely surprised when the little girl runs up to him and tugs on his pant leg.
"You play football for the Redwoods!" she exclaims, her eyes wide and mouth gaping.
Surprised or not, Lennon smiles and squats down, getting as close as he can to the kid's height.
"I do! My name is Lennon Griffith. What's yours?" he asks.
"Mirabelle, and this is my dad!" the kid says as the man approaches behind her.
"Sorry about that, I told her we shouldn't interrupt you but," he gestures towards his daughter with a defeated shrug. I shake my head, indicating to the man that it's no problem as Lennon keeps his focus on the kidlet at our feet.
"Mirabelle, that's such a cool name. Are you a Redwoods fan?"
"Yes!" Mirabelle answers excitedly.
"That's awesome! Who is your favorite player?" Lennon asks, and Mirabelle jumps in place.
"YOU! You're my favorite! You knock those sons of bitches down every Sunday!" the kid shrieks, and neither Lennon or myself can hold back our chuckles as the dad places his hands on her shoulders.
"Kids, where do they get this stuff?" he laughs nervously, turning beet red.
We chat with Mirabelle and her dad for another moment, taking pictures with them and signing the backs of each of their t shirts. I've gotten into the habit of carrying a Sharpie around in my pocket for moments like this, even if it makes me feel like a bit of a douche. We say our goodbyes and then the waiting host leads us to a corner booth in the back of the restaurant, away from the crowds but still in line of sight of the row of TV's currently playing the Detroit vs. Denver game.
"I don't think that will ever get old," Lennon mumbles as he opens his menu.
"I know what you mean. Jeez, if only we could go back a few years ago where we are now. I think college Breaker and Lennon would be shocked," I shake my head as I push my own menu to the corner. I already know I'll be ordering a three egg chopped omelette with turkey bacon, avocado, chopped green peppers and extra jack cheese with rye toast and two sides of hash browns.
"No way twenty year old Lennon would be shocked. I always believed that we'd end up exactly where we are right now," he says with confidence as the server approaches, filling our mugs with coffee from the pot she's carrying and taking our orders without writing anything down. Anywhere else that particular move might make me nervous, but I'm in a diner and my server looks like she's been working here since before I was born. I have no doubt in my mind that all of our food will come out exactly how we ordered it and delicious.
"You mean you always believed we'd end up playing in the NFL together? Or on the same team?" I ask after the server leaves. I start stirring creamer into my coffee while I wait for Lennon to answer.
"The football stuff. All of it. I knew we'd both make it to the big leagues. I had a strong feeling we'd end up paired up on the same team again, someday. I don't know how, but I always felt it. When I saw you were drafted to SF just a week after I'd been traded? It was like I had deja vu or something. As for the rest of it…" he trails off and I look up at him. His hand moves under the table to my thigh, where he grips me, soft but possessive. "All the rest of it, I just really really hoped it would someday work out."
I feel my heart pounding in my chest as Lennon's gaze dips to my lips, his icy blue eyes glazed over with something predatory. I lick my lips, wetting them even as my mouth goes dry. It isn't until Lennon leans in, the subtlest movement towards me, that I come to my senses and remember where we are and who we are.
"Len," I say tightly, and he stops in his tracks. "We should probably talk about some things before…" I say with a lowkey gesture between us.
"Right," he clears his throat, taking his hand away from my leg. I grab it back under the table and place it back where it just was on my thigh.
"You can keep that right where it was, honey," I smirk at him, and when he hits me with his bright, warm, thousand watt Lennon smile, I swear I fall even further in love with him, right there in the dingy booth of the dingy diner.