11. CHAPTER 11
Ididn’t get a chance to talk to Easton in the two weeks after the tournament. Around everyone else, he acted like nothing had changed—until we were almost alone. Then he’d rope Gavin into hanging out longer or beg Zach to stay up late for another round of pool.
I spent the first couple of days after the tournament on edge. Every time he talked to Zach, I braced for the sound of my name. At practice, I hovered near his conversations with Silas and Maddux, half expecting him to out me in the middle of a joke.
As the days went by, the fear started to fade.
But it was replaced with frustration. At myself, for kissing him. At him, for pretending it had never happened. I still couldn’t figure out what he was getting at.
I was good enough to be around, just not enough for more. But wasn’t that the rule? No teammates. No mess. So, why did it still feel like rejection?
“I think it’s time for bed,” Zach said. “I’ve got to be back up at seven tomorrow for football.” The Friday sun dipped behind the trees as we stepped out of the pool. Water dripped down our bodies, now covered with deep, even tans.
I waited for Easton to grovel, but he didn’t. Instead, he said, “I’m so glad I don’t play football.”
“Not that your scrawny butt could take it,” Gavin giggled before Easton picked him up and threw him back into the water.
“You three have fun,” Zach laughed before heading to his room.
“We will!” Gavin said as he rejoined the group. After he dried off, he jumped on Easton’s back and put him in a headlock as Easton walked the two of them to the basement.
We hooked up the Nintendo 64 and played Mario Kart until midnight, when Gavin fell asleep during one of the races.
Smiling, Easton whispered, “I’ve got him.” He lifted my youngest brother as gently as he could and carried him upstairs.
“Did he stay asleep?” I asked when Easton returned from putting Gavin to bed.
“Woke up to say good night,” he said, sprawling out across the couch, “but I don’t think he was really awake.”
I turned back to the TV, though I wasn’t really watching. It was the first time we’d been alone in two weeks, and that bomb in my stomach was running out of fuse.
Easton lay completely still, staring up at the ceiling, his fingers resting on his stomach, like he was holding something inside as well. Was he finally going to talk about it? Did I want him to?
“Not yet,” he said, without looking at me.
I hadn’t said anything, but he knew what I was thinking. He always knew.
The silence stretched. My stomach twisted itself into a knot. I sat up and lay down on the couch, then cycled through those positions again, neither giving me the comfort I hoped it would.
He flexed his fingers. The pops of his cracking knuckles echoed throughout our basement, the music from the idle video game the only other sound.
Finally, he sat up and looked at me. There was something raw in his eyes, like the storm was just beneath their surface but hadn’t broken yet.
“Tanner,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“What do you want to do?”
My mouth opened. Closed. I tried to find something safe. “We could…play more Mario Kart?”
He smiled. Barely. “Not what I meant.”
I swallowed. “I don’t know.”
“Come here.”
I stood and walked over. He reached out and placed his hands gently on my arms. I felt the warmth of his fingers through the damp fabric of my T-shirt. His citrus-scented shampoo filled my nostrils, barely detectable beneath the smell of chlorine and pine cones.
“Do you want to do it again?”
My chest tightened. Our first kiss still hung in the air between us.
I should’ve pulled away. I should’ve asked what he meant. But he was so close, and I couldn’t breathe, and—
Then his eyes met mine, and everything else left my mind.
“Yes,” I breathed.
“Then do it.”
I leaned in slowly. He met me halfway. Our lips pressed together—not hungry, not rushed. His hands moved up to my face, brushing my jaw. Mine went to his shoulders, holding him like I was afraid he might disappear. Like I’d never get to feel him again.
I pulled up on his shirt, breaking the kiss only to get it off. I ripped mine off as well and tossed them both on the floor before locking our lips back together.
Easton pushed me on the couch and got on top of me. His hairless chest laid on the fine chest hairs I had just started to grow. My hands moved to his biceps. Had he always been this strong? Or had those mid-afternoon lifts started to pay off?
Our excitement was obvious, pressing between our bodies. I wanted to reach down and feel what was poking into me, but I didn’t want to push too hard, too fast.
When we pulled apart, Easton still hovered over me, neither of us moving for a long moment. I looked into his eyes, letting my hand rest on his head, hoping for more.
“I’m not gay,” he said. This time, his voice was much softer than when we were in my car.
Maybe he was trying to convince me. Maybe he was trying to convince himself. Either way, it didn’t stop him from kissing me like he meant it.
“Okay.”
I searched his face for something—guilt, need, regret—but he only looked away, jaw clenched like the words were caught behind his teeth. Why would he ask me to kiss again if he wasn’t gay? Why had he avoided being alone with me just to jump at things the first time we were?
My hands hovered at his ribs, unsure whether to hold on or push him away. Every second he stayed there, the knot in my chest pulled tighter. I’d said yes again. Now I had to live with what that meant.
When I woke up the next morning, Easton wasn’t in the basement. The blanket he used lay folded neatly on the couch, and I couldn't see his bag anywhere.
Panic overwhelmed me.
I’d messed up. Again. We’d made out—longer this time, deeper—and still hadn’t said a word about it.
Easton had fallen asleep with his head on my chest. I didn’t know what he wanted. What he thought. Was he in this? I couldn’t make sense of it.
I should have waited until we’d talked, should’ve known better. But I’d let it happen twice, and now I’d ruined everything. He’d never talk to me again. Once the team found out, they’d never look at me the same. I’d just be their gay teammate and nothing more.
Every second our bodies had been intertwined had felt perfect, and in those moments, I hadn’t cared who found out. I hadn’t cared about the consequences.
But now, with no smile to change my mind, I wasn’t so sure.
I dragged myself upstairs, rewriting the same text in my head three times. Each one sounded more desperate than the last.
As soon as my bare feet hit the first floor, I heard sounds coming from the kitchen. I had no desire to interact with anyone until I got ahold of Easton, but my stomach had other ideas. Lost in thought, I walked toward the voices.
“How do you want your eggs, you bum?”
I froze. Easton was at the stove, apron on. A smile took over my face before I meant to let it. “You’re here.”
“Why wouldn’t I be? Gavin and I are cooking everyone breakfast. How do you want your eggs?”
“Whatever everyone else is having is fine.” I walked over to the countertop that Gavin sat on. He remained in his blue Sonic pajamas but wore a green apron over the top of his orange shirt, making him look like a pumpkin floating in the ocean.
“Try a piece of bacon,” Gavin said, dangling it over my head like a dog treat. I opened and chewed down, the grease lighting up my taste buds. Never before had I enjoyed a piece of bacon this much.
“Good, huh? I made it myself. Easton is teaching me how to cook,” Gavin beamed.
“Really good, Gav.”
“I’m on drink orders, too. What do you want?”
“OJ is fine.” I looked back at Easton, whose back was to me. His arm moved in slow, steady circles over the pan.
“Tanner,” Easton said, not turning around, “can you go wake up Zach? Your parents should be back soon. I thought we should all have a final breakfast together before school starts."
“Sir, yes, sir,” I said, walking out of the kitchen and toward Zach’s room.
So, Easton didn’t hate me. Just like after the kiss in the park, he was acting perfectly normal. Which was good and what I wanted. Maybe this was the start of something, something worth coming out for. I gave a small fist pump as I walked into Zach’s room.
“Dude, get up,” I said.
“I am up. You think I could sleep through those two clowns banging around in the kitchen?” Zach said.
I looked over at his bed. He was still lying down but was playing with his phone. He had organized his room closer to our parents’—he had a king bed in the center of the room and a wooden dresser on the near wall but not much else. His walls were splashed with the yellow of the Missouri Tigers.
“Good. Easton and Gavin have breakfast ready.”
“Sweet. What did they make?”
“Bacon and eggs.”
“What type of eggs?”
“Does it really matter, man?”
“Not at all,” he said, looking up from his phone. “Did you and Easton have fun last night?” He didn’t wink, but it was in his voice.
My face lit up red, though I pretended it didn’t. “Not bad. We just played on the N64.”
“Sounds like you guys are having fun together.”
“We are. Now get out of bed and come eat,” I said, leaving the room as quickly as possible. It wasn’t the first time I had gotten the feeling that Zach knew my feelings for Easton.
Euphoria still buzzed under my skin. I kept thinking about the way Easton looked at me last night—like he couldn’t help it, like I was the only thing in the room.
That quiet sound he’d made, like a breath pulled from somewhere deep, had etched itself into my memory.
I’d made him feel something real, and in that moment, it had felt like more than enough. It had felt like everything.
I wanted to tell the world what we had done last night. Still, it wasn’t worth the risk—the risk of what my family would say, of what my teammates would do.
But for the first time, I was thinking the reward might be worth it.