28. Gabe

CHAPTER 28

GABE

Elliot's hand lands on my knee, stopping me yet again from bouncing it incessantly.

"What has you all worked up?"

"I'm not worked up. Just ready to be home. And I drank a Red Bull."

"Red Bull gives you wings."

"Gives my bladder wings, maybe."

Elliot huffs out a laugh, and I try to relax. I check my phone for the hundredth time since we landed, waiting for a confirmation from Ellis about where to meet me. I can't wait until after Elliot goes to bed tonight. I just can't. I missed him. I need him now.

Instead, there are a few missed texts from Krysta. I must make a face, because Elliot leans over to see what I'm frowning at. I tense, worried that Ellis will finally respond while his brother is looking over my shoulder. Note to self, we should give each other code names in our phones.

"You two get in a fight or something?"

I shrug him off. I've been answering h im with non-answers, not outright lying, but letting him come to his own conclusions about my relationship with Krysta. He thinks I'm still going out with her, that she's the one I've been sneaking off to meet. It's just a coincidence that Ellis is going out and meeting his secret hookup at the same time. There are days I'm astounded he hasn't figured us out.

I want to tell him before he finds out on his own. I'm just not sure how to broach the subject.

"I'm not really into her," I admit to him, tiptoeing around the real problem.

"It was a little obvious, honestly. That's why I was surprised you were still messing around with her. Although she seemed your type."

"I think I have a different type these days," I murmur, a quiet confession.

He turns his head to look at me, and I look into the eyes of my best friend. The person who has been there for me every day since we met in kindergarten. The one person who never judged me. His eyes are the same electric blue as his brothers, but different. More refined and serious, whereas I always felt there was something turbulent brewing beneath Ellis' eyes. Turns out, it was heat.

Elliot has his full attention on me, his face open and ready to accept whatever truth about myself that I'm about to lie at his feet. I open my mouth to say something. Maybe I'll start with something safe, like my newfound sexuality. But before I can get anything out, I'm smacked in the head with a duffle bag. Tripp Landon stomps past me up the aisle to de-board the plane, a line of people behind him to prevent me from retaliating .

"That fucker," I say, rubbing the back of my head. "What is his problem?"

"I don't know. He's been weird toward me lately, too. Ever since the club that night."

"I'm not going to apologize for that. He had his hands all over your brother, and Ellis was not interested. Besides, I wasn't even the main one that separated them. Ellis' friends were on top of that shit."

"No, he was definitely out of line. I just didn't think he'd act like that. Seems like such a nice guy."

I'm trying to keep my thoughts to myself, because Elliot's mama taught me that if I don't have anything nice to say, I shouldn't say anything at all. And right now, the only thing I have to say is that Tripp can want Ellis' dick all he wants. He's not getting it. And he can die mad about it.

I don't have to say anything else, though, because it's our turn to make our way to the front of the plane. And just in time, a ping comes through.

Ellis: I'll be there.

"Oh. My. Fuck . God. Shit. Yes! "

Ellis claws at the tile around the hydrotherapy pool, water splashing everywhere as I pound expletives out of him with each hard snap of my hips.

"Did you miss me, baby?" I purr, pulling all the way out before slamming home again, forcing the breath out of him as he cries, "Yes! "

" Mmmmm, show me." Gripping his hips, I quicken my pace, pelvis bouncing off his ass.

"I can't!" He gasps.

"Give me one more, baby. Just one more."

I've already wrenched three orgasms out of him since we've been here. One with my mouth after tackling him to the ground the second I saw him. Then another by taking him slow and soft, sliding my cock into him and making love to him right there on the floor when my fingers found him prepped and ready for me. After that, I carried him into the heated hydrotherapy pool, where we both recuperated at the insistence of frenzied, passionate kisses, hands, and bodies rocking against each other. He rode me slow, stroking himself until he clouded the water, and begged me to fuck him hard and fast.

My hands knead his ass, spreading his cheeks apart. With him bent over the side of the pool, I have the perfect vantage point to see my cock slide in and out of his raw, stretched hole. My strokes are smooth and sure, hitting him exactly where I know I can get the maximum impact. I'm determined to learn how to play his body like an instrument, paying close attention to what every sound means, how his body moves, right down to the way his toes curl and his mouth drops open just before his ass contracts.

" Ffffffuuuuuuuuuuck! " He bellows, the cry joining the sounds of sloshing water, skin slapping against skin, moans and grunts that echo off the tile walls.

" Ungghhh ! That's it, baby. Fuck! You're milking my cock so good!" Even after the last pulses of my orgasm have passed, I keep rolling into him. He's boneless, lying flat on his stomach with his ass just over the edge of the pool.

When I pull out, I press my thumb to his ass, not wanting one drop to escape .

"You're going to think this is so weird, but I can't stop thinking about…" Before he can lift his head to figure out what I'm talking about, I lower my mouth to his ass, pressing my tongue inside his used hole, soothing and loving on it, thanking it for showing me what colors look like. Pushing my cum farther inside him, and cleaning away every extra drop that escapes.

"Fuck," he breathes, twitching. "That feels… good."

"There. Clean enough to eat off of," I say, kissing along his back.

Ellis laughs. "Aren't you full?"

"Never."

"Do you think Professor Dumont is going to grade this on a curve?" I ask, looking up from my applied mathematics notes for our exam next week.

"I fucking hope so," Ellis laughs before giving me a comforting nudge with his foot. "But you've got this, you're doing fine. You understand those differential equations better than I do, and they're supposed to be a big part of the test."

"What about the rest of your classes? Do you feel good about finals?"

"I do now."

Ellis is a fucking saint, sitting with me almost every night. Mostly we just sit next to each other and work on our respective homework, but we quiz each other, even for the classes we don't share. He's way smarter than me and hasn't had any trouble keeping up in his classes, but he never makes me feel like an idiot. Elliot has joined us a few times, grinning at our playful ribbing over his overachiever status. In these moments, I think life feels perfect. But then I watch Ellis pull his feet out of my lap when we hear Elliot put his key in the door, and I remember this immense secret we have.

Elliot enters and looks between the two of us. I feel my face grow hot, my mind racing over whether he's figured it out. I do this every time he looks at me sideways or is too quiet for too long.

"You going to work out?" We don't have practice tonight or tomorrow, but we have a three-game series this weekend that we need to stay ready for.

I nod. "Yeah, just let me change real quick." I wink at Ellis on our way out, knowing I'll see him later.

We jog to the sports complex to warm up and then head into the gym to start our usual circuit routine. We don't do any heavy lifting, just resistance exercises.

"You trying to show me up?" Elliot jokes as I double down on our workout. Nothing too difficult, just a few extra reps here and there, adding burpees between each station.

"I feel fucking good, man."

"You look good," he says, tilting his head toward me. "I, uh… worry sometimes. When you get like this."

"Like what?"

"Hyped. Extra energized. Hyper focused."

"All of those seem like good things," I laugh, taking a drink from my water bottle.

"Until the crash," Elliot points out, not unkindly. I try not to get irritated with him. I know he cares. He wouldn't say anything if he didn't. He wouldn't put up with my highs and my lows if he didn't.

"This feels different," I tell him.

We crush our first series game against Auburn . The stands are packed with fans, and all the commotion of a ballgame that I love is on display. People are excited to see their team succeed, and I get to be part of it. I'm riding high, even going so far as to sweep Ellis up in a hug, as we leave the field. No one thinks anything of it, especially when Ellis beats against my shoulders and calls me a caveman. Elliot laughs at my usual antics. The team is all laughs and high fives and congratulating each other. Except Tripp Landon, who seems sullen. He didn't get any good hits in and missed a pop fly, but we shut them out tonight, so I don't know what he has to brood about. Until I see him watching Ellis, and it gets my hackles up.

My hackles stay up when I feel him watching me while we get ready to take the field for game two. In the dugout, he purposefully rams his shoulder into mine when he walks by. By the third time it happens, I'm bristled, but I catch Ellis' eye and the almost imperceptible shake of his head. The small, secretive grin he aims at the ground is enough to make me forget anything's wrong.

It's also enough for me to get cocky. And when I look up to see that Tripp was watching our exchange, my dumbass fucking winks at him.

On my second home run hit in as many innings, I'm rounding the bases. We need these two runs to put us ahead. Tripp isn't running fast enough. He was on second when I hit the ball. There's no reason he should just now be clearing third base. He's giving the outfield too much time. Their shouts to each other let me know someone's close to the ball, which means we'll miss the opportunity for two runs and risk an out if Tripp doesn't get his ass in gear.

Coach is screaming, all our teammates are screaming, I'm screaming for him to, "Go, go, go! "

I must be out of my mind, because it feels like he intentionally slows down. I have to pause on third, but the ball makes it to home plate before Tripp does, costing us an out. With one more out to go, the next batter steps up. Johansen hits a single, I take the chance to steal home. My arms and legs pump hard as I clear the distance. In my peripheral, I see the ball flying overhead, and I dive.

I slide home, dirt spraying up everywhere. The umpire yells, "Safe!" and everyone screams.

Behind me, Johansen makes it to third base in the chaos. We weren't able to pull ahead on the easy homer, but the rest of us are able to eke out a tie going into the last inning.

As I'm heading to the dugout, my teammates and Coach pat me on the back. I'm feeling on top of the world, especially when Ellis approaches me with my catcher's gear. I let him help me put it on, because I like having an excuse to be close to him for a minute. Ellis murmurs about the play and what a great save it was, and how Elliot and I are going to shut them out and secure the win.

"You're such a badass," he says, securing my helmet.

"I really want to kiss you right now," I whisper.

Ellis rolls his eyes and closes the face mask, and the huge grin on his face makes me feel like a fucking god. I'm ready to walk over and confess everything to Elliot just so I can chase this feeling.

We almost manage the shutout, but Tripp is too busy staring daggers at the team dugout to notice an easy catch. The ball goes right past him before he even flinches. He scrambles for the ball, but the batter gets to first base before anything can be done about it. I glare at him, pointing across the field for him to get his shit together. Two strikeouts later, the batter bunts the ball toward third base. Elliot and Harper, the third baseman, both run forward. I run to cover third, but Tripp, who should be covering second base, collides with me. I'm b igger than him, and in full pads, so he bounces off me and hits the ground.

"What the fuck, Landon?"

I reach a hand to help him up, ready to tear him a new one over the basic shit we learned in Little League, but he slaps my hand away and storms off. He stumbles when he scoops down to retrieve his glove. This pisses him off even more, and he stomps his foot like a toddler and throws his hat.

I give Elliot a shrug and scoff under my breath, but it's loud enough, I guess. Tripp decides to open his mouth and say something, most of which I don't catch. All I know is that I hear the words "your little brother" and "slut" in the same sentence. It was aimed at Elliot, but clearly meant for me to hear. And he gets what he wanted out of it.

"What did you say?"

"You, of all people, would know…"

Throwing my mask on the ground, I cover the ground between us in three long steps. He tries to pull some tough guy bullshit, shoving his chest up in mine, but I'm not playing around. I rear back and throw my fist in his face. Blood splatters across my knuckles, and Tripp goes down. He's flat on his back, holding his nose and writhing like a little bitch. I stand over him, looking down at him like the piece of trash he is.

"I've been putting up with your bullshit for weeks because I actually felt bad for you. But no one disrespects my family and gets away with it."

"Your family?!" He spits out, his voice nasally and whiny as he stands up, pointing at me with one bloodied hand still gripping his nose. "That's fucking rich?— "

I move right up in his space, dropping my voice so only he can hear me. "Jealous isn't a good look on you, Landon. Get a life."

Footsteps hurry toward us, Elliot stepping between us when Tripp tries to lunge. Ellis grabs my arm from behind me, and Tripp stares at the contact. His lips lift in a snarl, showing blood coated teeth.

"Calm down, Tripp. Let's take a breather."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Hope. You think you're so much better than everyone else, but you have no idea what's going on right under your nose."

"That's enough, Tripp!" Ellis shouts, pulling me back when I try to take another step forward.

"You take that blindfold off yet, sweetheart? Because he's going to toss you aside like a cheap whore."

I lunge forward, intent on busting his face open. It takes the entire infield and multiple members of the coaching staff to pull us apart. Tripp and I are both ejected from the game. Elliot gets a warning for yelling in Tripp's face to shut up, and Ellis ends up with a black eye in the fray after attempting to pull me off Tripp. I'm not even sure if it was any part of my body that did it, but walking out of the coach's office and seeing him with an ice pack on his face makes my stomach drop to the floor. My knees follow, and I wrap my arms around Ellis' waist.

"I'm so sorry," I mumble into his shirt.

"It wasn't your fault. You were defending my honor. It was very gallant of you," he says, his tone thick with snark.

"I've been called worse."

He laughs, and I close my eyes, breathing in the smell of his sweat, laundry detergent, and everything him . His fingers comb my hair, soothing the stress of the day. I almost forget where we are.

"How bad is it? "

"Four game suspension. And a warning that if it happens again, Coach will have my hide and my scholarship," I answer.

"Could've been worse, I guess."

The infirmary door opens, and Tripp comes out, followed by a few of the training staff. He's got cotton stuffed up both nostrils, and tape across the entire bridge of his nose. Ellis straightens, but we don't move in time for him to not see us in the compromising position. Tripp's jaw tics, but he says nothing as he lets the trainers lead him out of the building.

Later, after we've washed off the grime and stress of the day, Ellis and I lounge on the couch watching his favorite show. He falls asleep with his head in my lap, his soft snores too sweet to interrupt when I hear Elliot's key in the door.

Elliot stops in his tracks, staring at the way his brother is sleeping peacefully, his arm looped under my thigh like he's holding a pillow.

"Don't wake him up," I say softly. My voice is calm, but my heart is beating overtime.

Elliot finally makes eye contact with me, and I can see the pain reflected there.

"How long?"

The sigh that escapes me is both pained and relieved.

"How long have I been gay, or how long have I been in love with your brother?"

"Pick one."

The only answer I have is a helpless shrug. I don't know what I am, in terms of identity. And I'm not sure when my feelings for Ellis started. Probably before I was aware of them .

"I think I only knew for sure the night of the graduation party."

"That was almost a year ago."

I nod, knowing it's not enough of the truth, but also unsure how much of the truth I should give him. Some of it isn't my truth to tell.

"You've been lying to me and sleeping with my little brother for almost a year?"

"Technically, he's two minutes older than you," I say, since Ellis can't right now. But my joke falls flat. I hoped that some of our familiar banter would smooth the edges, but it isn't the time or place for it. "I'm sorry," I tell him, deflating. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"He was like a brother to you."

"He should have been. Like you were. But he never was."

Elliot's eyes shift down to Ellis. He's wearing a deep v-neck shirt. The contrast of the dark color against his pale skin makes the hickeys I marked him with stand out almost violently. He looks away, aiming his gaze at the floor. He looks like he might say something else, instead he retreats quietly into his room.