Chapter 34
“Hmm, no, you should wear the other shirt.” I shake my head to underline my point.
“Oh? Just now you said I should change into this!” Micah huffs, turning around to look himself over in the mirror that’s hanging on the back of his door—the only space in the attic that isn’t slanted.
“Yeah, but now that I see what it looks like on you, I think I can’t let you go like that.”
“Aren’t you the one who keeps telling me to go?”
I sigh, letting my eyes wander down along Micah’s back.
The dark shirt fits him so well that it leaves very little to the imagination, melding perfectly with the curve of his back while clinging to his pecs in the front.
The sleeves stretch over his upper arms, and I very badly want to squeeze my fingers under the fabric to feel how tight they are.
Instead, I stay right where I am, sitting on Micah’s bed, watching him get ready.
It's the first Friday in a month that I have off, another moment we managed to steal just for us. It feels good, even if there’s the sneaking worry over how much it’ll hurt when the inevitable happens. I don’t know how to be friends with someone I’ve been so intimate with.
“And I stand by that. You should go; it’ll be fun, and you’ll see your friends, but,” I reiterate, leaning back onto my hands, “not in that shirt.”
Micah pulls the shirt back over his head, throwing it at me with a smile. But when he turns back to the closet that’s pushed into the corner, he sighs deeply.
“Oh, come on, you’ll be home soon.” I chuckle at his theatrics, glad they distract me from the urge to pick up his discarded T-shirt and bury my nose in it.
Instead, I fold it and place it neatly next to me.
Best to focus on that to make sure he doesn’t read too much into my insistence.
I’d much rather keep Micah right here with me, but with everything that Olli told me, I think Davenport needs his best friend around for this party.
In turn, I can try to take Olli’s mind off of all those things with an evening of movies and takeout.
“Maybe I’ll wait up for you,” I add, my nerves flaring, but the happy skip of my heart is stronger. We've only kissed since…well, since we had sex. I hope I'm not the only one who misses more than just the orgasms.
The way Micah’s head perks up and he turns around to me, eyes bright, gives me hope.
“Scratch the maybe.”
“Oh?” I can’t contain the grin, pushing myself up to standing. “Alright, I’ll definitely be waiting. Right here, in your bed.”
Micah groans deeply, crossing the distance between us in two steps. His hands reach out to grab my hips, pulling me in. The intensity in his eyes slides hotly down my spine. His skin is equally warm under my palms when I slide them over his chest, fingers tracing along his collarbones.
“I might get a little bit bored, doing some reading to pass the time. Maybe I’ll get some ideas…”
“Fuck, Lind.” Micah sighs, leaning in—but I have to turn my head away just before our lips meet when my phone rings in my pocket.
“Why does this keep happening? You’re the only person I know who has their phone on loud.” Micah groans, but I just chuckle and reach up to hold a hand over his mouth while I glance at the screen.
“It’s Nicko,” I tell him, stretching up to peck his cheek, then accept the call.
“—uiet, I’m on the phone!”
“Yeah, Xan, be quiet, he’s on the phone!”
“You know very well he meant you, you—”
“Nicko!” I grin and wave at Micah, ducking through the door and down the stairs to my own room.
“How are you? How was Amsterdam? And how’s New York?
” I ask, letting myself fall onto my bed, turning on the video call, eager to hear about my best friend’s adventures.
He already sent me a few pictures, but we haven’t had time to properly catch up.
Nicko turns on his video too, his pout morphing into that familiar grin. “Aw, you still haven’t put that olive tree outside, you big softie.”
“No.” I laugh. “We live in Vermont! I don’t want it to die.”
“Anyway, I ate so many Stroopwaffeln; it was awesome! And Xan got one hell of a sunburn the first day we were in Amsterdam,” Nicko says, lying back into some fluffed-up pillows.
For several minutes, he regales me with similar tales, making me laugh whenever he goes on longer about the food he ate rather than what sights they went to see or any museum he got dragged into by his boyfriend and brother.
It’s been a while since I’ve talked to my best friend, but Nicko manages not to make me feel bad, giving me time to talk about my summer, too, asking me about the farm business, and then poking gentle fun when I admit he was right about Colin.
“Told you the guy’s an idiot,” he grouses.
“Yeah, but, uhm…without him, I might’ve never gotten with Micah.” I smile, laughing when Nicko sits up like I triggered a spring reflex, his green eyes big and round.
“Micah? Our Micah? Football Captain Micah?”
“Nicko! I wasn’t planning on all of New York knowing.” I snort but venture into a short retelling of my summer.
“Holy shit. Linden, you dog!”
“Don’t even!” I warn him with a smile, thinking about my plans later.
It’s hard to comprehend how a few short weeks can turn my mind around so completely.
By now, I cannot go back to understand why I ever thought agreeing to Colin’s plan was a good idea.
Over the whole summer, I only got one text from him, not even asking how I was, just how far I’d gotten with experimenting.
And a picture of him lying on the beach.
Not that I was especially communicative either, but even the topics we would text about for hours are so distant now.
When I let them pass, I realized we had spent a lot of time chatting about Europe and Colin’s travel plans.
I’ve never even been there, and still I would look up all those place names, like I was going with him. It feels pathetic now.
I know I have to talk to Colin to clear things up, but I don’t want to do it over text. He’ll be back next week. Hopefully, by then I’ll know what to say to him.
When I focus back on my phone, I catch Nicko rubbing at his eyes.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“Hm? Yeah, fine, just tired,” he says, running one hand through his hair, then tucks his arm behind his head.
Narrowing my eyes, I frown. Yes, Nicko looks exhausted, but there’s more to it. I can hear it in his voice, see it in the way his eyes dart around, looking at everything except his phone screen.
“C’mon, tell me,” I prompt, raising my eyebrows when Nicko opens his mouth to protest.
He sighs, then sinks back into his pillows. “Alright. We met with the team the other week and…you know how Xan and I wanted to tell them about us?”
I nod. Before the summer, Nicko had confided in me how nervous he was about that plan, but how he worried more about constantly living in fear of being discovered.
“And that didn’t go well?”
“Didn’t go at all,” Nicko grumbles. “The manager gave us a tour, and somehow ended up talking about some incident they had last year between a player and someone on the physician’s team. So now they have this anti-fraternization clause in all contracts.”
I blink. “So…so you can’t…”
“If we told them we’re together, they’d probably trade one of us away.
” Nicko grimaces, then briefly drops his phone onto his chest. When he picks it back up, his eyes are slightly redder.
“We’d be in different cities, only seeing each other when we play against each other, if we even play in the same conference.
” Nicko clears his throat. “So we decided to…continue keeping it a secret.”
My heart squeezes inside my chest. It’s the one thing he was afraid of. “Nicko, I’m so sorry; that’s terrible.”
“At least we’ll be playing for the same team,” he mutters, his lips quirking up into a half smile. “Training’s fun. I’m skating circles around Xanxan’s lame ass.”
I wouldn’t even have that. The thought hits me while Nicko is still lost in thought. Next year, Micah will enter the draft. He’ll be playing in the NFL, and no matter what club he ends up with, I’ll be hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away from him, finishing my degree.
Exactly what Dad said was going to happen.
“Hey,” Nicko hums quietly, his eyes knowing as he takes me in.
“I just…I never thought about what could happen,” I admit, clearing my throat when my voice nearly gives out on me. “Really isn’t easy dating a professional athlete, huh? Or being one.”
“No,” Nicko agrees, drawing his brows together. “But just because things are hard doesn’t mean they aren’t worth it.”
I still feel dumb for not even thinking about the future. The very near future. I was only concerned that I might get turned down. I hadn’t even considered what might happen if—and I’m not even sure of my chances on that if—Micah felt the same way about me.
“God, I feel like an idiot,” I groan, burying my face in my free hand.
On the other end of the line, Nicko laughs softly, but I don’t feel judged. He knows better than anyone else what I’m going through after all.
“Not like I can tell you what to do,” he starts once I’m looking at him again. “But…go for it.” Nicko’s voice is quiet but steely. “You’ll regret it if you don’t, and you’re not a player. My problems are different problems, Lind; it’ll be different for you and Micah.”
I nod, swallowing thickly, not quite convinced.
“At least you won’t get annoyed at him for hogging the puck—or that egg, I guess.”
I snort, trying to imagine myself in the middle of a football match. “Oh God, pretty sure that’d be the least of my concerns.” I roll onto my stomach to turn on the lamp next to my bed. “How’s everything else? Did you find an apartment?”
Nicko grins. “Not just one. I found two!”
“Two?”
“Yeah, this one, and the one next door.”
“Uh…that’s great?”
Nicko snorts as he sees my puzzled expression. “Yeah, you know, couldn’t let Xanxan become homeless.”
“Generous as always.” A shadow falls over Nicko, accompanied by the deep voice. He grins up, entirely innocent.
“Plus, I have standards, and you’d have picked some dump!”
“Ah, and here I was being nice, letting you know pizza’s here, but I guess I’ll just—” Xander doesn’t get to finish his sentence. The phone camera blurs as Nicko jumps up from the bed. When he’s back in focus, he’s half draped over his boyfriend’s shoulder.
As always when seeing them together like this, there’s a twinge of envy going through me. But now it’s much sharper—and comes with a much clearer image: I want this in my future. And I can't help but picture Micah being the one I'd jump like—
“I gotta go, Lind! Pizza!”
I wave at my phone until the screen goes black, well used to Nicko’s antics. Besides, even over the phone, talking to him improved my mood. Enough to admit that I, too, feel hungry. I trudge downstairs, hoping to find some company as well as food.
Sasha is having a protein shake, leaning against the kitchen counter. She’s idly chatting to Vince, who’s scrolling on his phone.
“Hey, Linden, we were just about to order some food. You in?”
“We’re torn between pizza and Chinese,” Vince says, looking up from his phone.
His smile is as open and friendly as always, and I work hard to suppress the reflex of searching for even a hint of hostility or accusation.
My stomach is reminding me that right now would be a good opportunity to overcome my aversion if it means food.
“Cool! I’d be down with either. Should I go and ask Olli if he wants anything?”
“Oh, Olli left, like…an hour ago.”
“Huh, I didn’t even—”
“Do you know where he went?” I interrupt Sasha. My stomach lurches, pushing food entirely out of my mind. Somehow, I know where Olli went, even before Vince confirms it with a casual shrug.
“Some frat party, he said, down at the shore.”
Sasha’s head swivels as she looks between Vince and me. “What’s wrong with that, Lind?”
“I just—” I shake my head, fighting down the unease that’s crawling up my throat. “I think we should go. After him, I mean.” A party full of frat bros, including the quarterback who just broke up with him, and this time there’s no Nate to take a punch for Olli.
“I’ll drive,” Sasha says, studying my face for a moment longer, then puts her shake down on the counter.