25. Lennon
CHAPTER 25
LENNON
Now
Santa Clara, California
A bright beam of sunshine bursts it's way through the cracks in my curtains, beaning me right in the eyeball, and I curse myself for not having the foresight to make sure the stupid curtains were big enough to cover the whole damn window before I bought it.
I mean who knew there were even different sizes of windows? There should be one regulation window size that all curtains cover up perfectly so no one ever has to wake up with a blazing inferno of raging hot sun gas poking them in their retinas.
I groan somewhere low in my throat and try to pull the blanket up to cover my eyes, but there is no give. The parts that cover me only make it up to my lower body, while the rest of the blanket is covering Breaker. Most of it is tangled between his legs. My sweet little covers hog is lucky that my body is a furnace and I usually end up shirking the blankets off of myself in the middle of the night anyway.
I smile down at where Breaker is curled into my chest, the offending sunbeam long forgotten as I watch his body rise and fall with slow, sleepy breaths. His lips are slightly parted, granting my ears the sweet sound of his soft sighs as he breathes. I run my fingertips over his cheeks, his warmth an inviting welcome despite my naturally hot body temperature. He stirs, and I hold my breath, hoping I didn't wake him. Coach granted us a Victory Monday for our win last night. It's nice because we can all relax without needing to come into the facilities and work out or pore over game tapes. It's a rare thing for us to be able to sleep in during the season, so I want Breaker to enjoy this lazy morning for as long as he can.
Unfortunately for me, once I'm up, I'm up. So it looks like I will be laying here with my man cuddling peacefully into my side until he's ready to wake up and face the day.
I can think of worse ways to spend a morning.
Careful not to move too much and disturb Breaker, I reach over to my nightstand to unplug my phone so that I can entertain myself with some mindless doom scrolling while I wait. My phone is perpetually on Do Not Disturb so that save for a few notifications—like anything from my parents or Breaker—I’m not bombarded with endless attempts at communication all day long. Because of that, my phone screen is blissfully free of any pesky little red icons.
Still, I know the notifications are there, hidden behind my safe wall, so I go to my email to see if I've missed anything important. There's nothing but a few sent over from my agent yesterday afternoon.
Are you interested in a charity youth game in January?
Hell yes.
Want to do an ad spot for laundry detergent?
Not really, but a paycheck is a paycheck, so I guess so.
Digitally sign these and get them back to me ASAP. That means now, Griffith.
Geez. I know the dude gets 15% off of my endorsement deals, but he can take a chill pill. He's acting like I've never gotten something back to him on time. Newsflash, I like to get paid, too.
I open the document and scribble my signature a few times before shooting the email back to him with a passive aggressive 'thumbs up' emoji, then I check my texts.
Two from my group chat with my parents, both of them congratulating me on last night's win. One from Buckner, wondering where I ran off to last night. One from Coach informing me that the League will be fining me for skipping press. Stupid rule, but whatever. It was worth it.
Just as I'm about to switch over to Instagram, a new text comes through, this time from my old QB in Knoxville.
Dean: Griffith! I'm in SF for a few days to visit my sister. If you have time, wanna grab a bite or something while I'm around?
I had planned to spend the whole day in bed with Breaker, watching movies and cuddling and hopefully making each other feel good, but I would really like to see Dean. He's such a good guy, he really took me under his wing last season and helped with my introduction into the league. I haven't seen him since the spring, so it would be nice to catch up
Lennon: I'm free today if you want to grab lunch.
Dean: Cool. Sis and I were gonna hit up this place in the Mission District. You down for Mexican?
As if I'm ever not down for Mexican.
Lennon: Definitely. Is it cool if I bring a friend?
Dean: The more people to distract my sister from making a scene, the merrier. 1 o'clock.
He sends me an address and I plug it into the maps app to check the driving time. It'll take about forty-five minutes, and it's only 9:34 am, which means I have plenty of time to soak up my sleeping snuggle bug before it's time to get ready.
On that note, I set my phone down, wrap my arms around Breaker, and nuzzle my face into the top of his head.
"Are you sure I look okay?" Breaker asks as he smooths his hands down over his navy blue henley for probably the thousandth time since he put it on an hour ago. He's adorable when he's nervous.
"You look amazing, B. I already told you, that shirt does amazing things for your pecs," I tell him as we walk from the corner where our Uber dropped us off towards La Taqueria — a Mexican restaurant that's known for it's Mission style burritos. I haven't been here yet, but I plan on coming here the moment the season is over when I don't have a team of trainers and dieticians breathing down my neck and inhaling a behemoth of a burrito the size of my forearm.
Maybe two.
I let myself indulge a little further into my future fantasy. By that point, I'll also be able to hold Breaker's hand while we walk down the street, the way I'm itching to now.
But alas, I am in a hell of my own making for the greater good of the team and Breaker's young career, so instead we walk with enough room for Jesus between us towards the front door of the restaurant. He at least lets me open the door for him, which scratches the monkey, masculine part of my brain that say 'provide, provide, provide' whenever Breaker is around.
"I don't think Dean McKenna will have time to notice my pecs when he's too busy being one of the greatest of all time," he mutters under his breath while I look around the small room. It's not hard to miss the tall, bulky man sitting in the corner with a baseball cap low over his brows, even without the small woman bouncing and waving like an inflatable air dancer outside of a car dealership. I wave back and nudge Breaker along to the other side of the restaurant to meet my friends.
"Lennon!" Kira squeals, jumping out of her seat and straight on to my chest, looping her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist with ease. The core strength on this woman is phenomenal. She squeezes me tight like I'm an old friend before slamming a kiss into my cheek.
"Hello to you, too, Kira," I say as I carefully set her back down to the ground. I reach out and give Dean a gruff handshake that he returns with a slap on my back.
I point a thumb at Breaker, who is standing awkwardly next to me with his hands behind his back.
"This is Breaker Lawson. He's our QB," I say as I pull out a chair and gesture for him to sit.
"For the time being," B mutters under his breath, and I swat the back of his head. Lightly, of course.
I take the seat next to him, but when I look across from us, Kira has a snarl on her face that looks sharp enough to kill a man.
"This," she points roughly across the table at Breaker, "is the friend you brought? I thought we hated this guy?"
"We hate this guy?" Dean asks, joining his sister in pointing at Breaker and speaking like he's not there.
"Wait, why do we hate me?" Breaker asks, nerves and panic lacing his voice. I roll my eyes at the absurdity of it all.
"We don't hate him, we never did. Everyone relax," I say, miming for everyone to take a deep breath.
“But, at Adler's party—” Kira starts before I interrupt.
"I know, but it's fine. We, uhh," I pause, looking over at a ghostly white Breaker with a sly smile. Under the table, I slide my hand up his thigh. "We kissed and made up."
I wink at him, and his eyes go wide.
"Oh, cut the shocked face, Breaker. It was so obvious you two were the meat in a lover's quarrel sandwich at the holiday party," Kira says, rolling her eyes. "If Lennon says we don't hate you then fine. You're officially my friend Breaker. Now, I already ordered an assortment of different tacos for the table. Ordering the best items at restaurants is my superpower. I hope you don't mind, but also I don't give a shit if you do."
Dean gives the two of us a look that says Don't ask me, she's just my sister , and thankfully the whole interaction breaks some of the tension.
Breaker fangirls over Dean and his career while we wait for the food, and Dean indulges him, even going so far as to promise Breaker a private practice session during the off season. The food arrives, and Kira was right. Ordering is her superpower. Everything from the roasted veggie tacos to the al pastor tostadas are delicious and just sinful enough to be flavorful but not so much that we're going to be reamed at practice tomorrow. I guess having a pro athlete as a dad and a brother, it shouldn't be a surprise that Kira would have considered our dietary needs when ordering. I'm polishing off the last few bites of the street corn with cotija cheese when Dean gestures between Breaker and I.
"So, I'm assuming from the way Lawson here almost shit his pants when you first got here you two are keeping this thing between you to yourselves?" he asks, sounding curious, not accusatory.
"Just until the season ends," Breaker answers with a nod. "It kind of sucks, but we want to keep the press focused on the game and not our personal lives for now. It's not a huge deal, just our personal preference."
"That makes sense. You guys are looking like you could take your team all the way. Let the media hype you up for that, and keep your private stuff private. As long as that's what you both want…" Dean trails off, his eyes going forlorn looking.
"Whoa, McKenna. That was an abrupt and loaded end of a thought. There a story there, man?" I ask, and he shakes his head.
"There is, but it's one for another day. C'mon, let's get out of here and do something. I've been sitting too long." He says as he holds a heavy looking credit card over to the server and then signs the check, and that's how Breaker and I spend the afternoon in Mission Dolores Park getting our asses handed to us at Pickleball by the McKenna siblings.
Later on when we're in bed, cuddling and watching reruns of Grey's Anatomy on Netflix after a long shower and a few exchanged blow jobs, my eyes start to droop as Breaker runs a hand over my chest.
"Do you think that's what it's gonna be like all the time? When we're, you know, out, or whatever?" He asks, absentmindedly gliding his fingers through my chest hair.
"Like what?" I answer around a yawn.
"Like…" he trails off for a moment, and I look down to see him thinking really hard about his answer. "Simple, I guess? Easy? I don't know. I thought I was going to lose it for a moment earlier. I mean I was meeting Dean Fucking McKenna, and then on top of it, you just claimed me in front of him and his sister like it was nothing. And it was nothing. It was fucking huge, but it was also like anytime I've ever been introduced as somebody's somebody in the past. I think I've built you — built us — up so big in my mind over the last few years that I was half expecting some kind of breakdown as soon as this thing wasn't just ours anymore, and that didn't happen. Do you think it's always going to be like that?"
I sigh, taking in everything he's telling me and trying to form a response that won't have him running for the hills because the truth is no. I don't always think it's going to be as simple and as easy as telling an old friend of mine that Breaker is my boyfriend. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little nervous earlier as well, but he's not something I want to hide except for when it's necessary to protect him. The truth is, I can almost guarantee that when we do come clean about our relationship to the public, there's going to be some sort of shit storm waiting for us.
"No," I answer after a moment. "No, I don't think it's going to be easy like today was. Not all the time, and certainly not with the public and the press. Unfortunately, there's going to be questions and speculation. There's going to be people who call it a sham and a publicity stunt because you're out and as of now I'm not. The press is going to speculate and pontificate. The Redwoods might lose fans. Fans of other teams already hate us because their teams can't stop the shove. We're going to get even more backlash from that. Adler says he has our back and I believe him, but he's not going to be able to stop every wayward look or snide comment from the staff. It's going to be tough, baby, but it's going to be worth it. Just like how keeping it to ourselves is worth it right now. It doesn't matter to me what anyone says or the rocks that they try to throw at us because this right here? Our connection, our love? It's all ours. Do you trust that I meant that?"
In the soft glow of the TV still humming lowly in the background, I can see the tears welling in Breaker's beautiful hazel eyes. He blinks, and one spills over. I lean in to kiss it off his cheek, but he maneuvers and presses his lips to mine instead.
"I trust you, Lennon. We're going to be okay. I know we will."
And with that, that statement of trust, of truth, of a willingness to fight the dragons with me, I snuggle Breaker closer into my chest and drift off to sleep in his warmth.