13. Luke

THIRTEEN

LUKE

Luke

Can any of you guys go to LA with me for the weekend?

Or if you can't, then come join me and Robbie for breakfast before we go to the doctor and the airport.

Rashan

You're seeing a doctor at the airport?

Cameron

That doesn't seem right.

Luke

No, you dumbasses.

We're going to the doctor and then we' re going to the airport.

Rashan

But yeah, I'll go to LA with you and little Riggs.

Kevin

I can't go to LA but I'm in for breakfast.

Cameron

Same.

Luke

Thank you. See you in the morning.

Cameron

Wait, you're not going to tell us how the date went?

Luke

Tomorrow morning. Seven a.m.

Right at seven on the dot, the doorbell rings.

I make sure Robbie's secure in his highchair, and walk quickly to let my friends in. The heathens basically bowl me over on the way to the kitchen. Maybe they're lured by the scent of bacon and eggs, but I think they all want to get some Robbie time—not that I can blame them.

So much for wanting to know how the date went last night.

Well I'm about to shock them all, so I let them fill their bellies and get their Robbie smiles—and one soft chuckle for Cameron, the clown—before I pick Robbie up, give him some milk, then burp him and lay him down in his stroller when he falls asleep about three-point-two seconds later .

They tired him out with all the attention , I think with a smile. I hope he gets used to it.

I don't doubt Gab's been giving me space to get my bearings, and also because she's busy as hell with the Draft coming up, the Pirates in the Stanley Cup Playoffs, and her software company doing whatever it is it does. But once she's over these few weeks of madness I don't doubt she'll be all over my little brother.

Cameron snaps his fingers in front of my face, and I come out of my thoughts and back to the present where I have to explain what asexuality is to my friends.

And also tell them I'm asexual , but I can't focus too much on it.

"Spill, Riggs. We can't take the suspense anymore."

"I know, I know," I mumble, as I round the island to clean up the kitchen. The guys all get off their asses and help me out.

"And we need to leave for the doctor in half an hour."

I just nod as I rinse all the plates and pass them to Kevin to stack in the dishwasher.

"Do you guys know what asexuality is?" I decide to just get straight to the point. I get a few mumbles and groans in response. I'll take that as a no, then. "Well it's when someone doesn't feel sexual attraction to other people. No desire to have sex with others either. It's a spectrum, just like who you're attracted to can be a spectrum."

"Uh, Luke, what does all this have to do with your date?" Kevin asks in a confused tone. I turn to look him in the eyes so hopefully he knows everything's okay.

"Everything actually, 'cause I'm asexual." I try to speak as casually as possible, and even manage to catch the glass Rashan was passing to me when he drops it from... shock, I guess?

"So you don't like sex?" Cameron asks, almost speaking as casually as me. I appreciate the effort to make me feel better about confiding in them. Well not better, since I don't feel bad or regret telling them, but maybe more comfortable talking about this.

"Well, I've never had sex."

Rashan stops moving altogether then.

"Ever?" he demands.

I look at him with an ‘are you kidding me?' face and ask, "Are you serious right now?" My voice deadpan.

"How can you know you don't like sex when you've never had sex?"

"Okay, that's not a bad question. How can you know you're not bi when you've never had sex with a man?" I counter.

Rashan looks at the floor with a confused frown. "That's a good point," he mumbles. Then looks up suddenly. "But wait, you don't even like getting your dick sucked?"

I shrug and go back to rinsing the remaining few things. "I've never had my dick sucked. It just doesn't appeal to me, never has."

Rashan opens his mouth again, and I already anticipate how much shit I can give him, what I can make him believe about asexual people, when Kevin slaps his shoulder and cuts him off at the root.

"If you're not going to ask questions nicely, don't ask them, man. Jeez."

I let out a chuckle then.

"It's okay, Kevin. Better him being curious than judgmental."

"Yeah, yeah, but he doesn't have to be a dick about it."

"He's a dick about most things though," Cameron says thoughtfully, and earns his own slap against his huge arm, this time delivered by Rashan.

"That's a good point. But anyway, does this mean the date was good or bad?" Kevin demands. "I just need to know okay, then you can come out of however many closets you want to us. Just tell me if there's gonna be a second date because you two were like, magnetic the other day." He joins his hands as if begging in front of his chest. And I can't let the guy suffer any more.

"The date was great. We talked about it all really—our plans, our families, the asexual thing."

"And he's okay with it? He didn't say shit, did he?" Now Rashan looks ready to go to battle for me, and I love him for it, I really do.

I know about not outing other people. I know at least that much about the LGBTQ+ community. But Bennett said he told his friends he wanted them to tell other people, right? So here I go.

"Trust me, he understands and he's okay with it. Nothing but supportive. He's ace too, actually. I didn't know that before the date, though." I look Rashan in the eyes so he can see I'm telling him the truth. I also think it's best if I don't tell them for now that I only realized yesterday that I'm ace.

"Good." He nods decisively then goes back to looking down at the counter. I let him have his moment, he's going to have a lot to say in a few hours I bet.

In the meantime, Kevin and Cameron ask me the specifics about the date.

"Did you guys kiss?"

"Was the pot roast a success?"

"Please tell me you guys are seeing each other again," Kevin begs.

"Yes, we kissed, he loved the pot roast, and we're having another date the Monday after the Draft."

"I'm happy for you, Luke." Kevin looks at me with affection in his eyes, and gives me a brief hug before walking backwards to the front door. "But I gotta go hang out with the boys today, okay? See you back here next week." I see him sneak a couple of looks at a sleeping Robbie until he's out of sight.

"I need to leave too, but hey, I wanna know more about this asexuality business. Sounds interesting." And that's Cameron, easygoing everywhere but on the football field, and always an amazing friend unless he's giving you shit.

I look at Rashan and see he's watching Robbie with a tender smile.

"C'mon," I tell him in a softer tone. "Come help me pack his bags for three full days away."

He follows me without complaint, and still hasn't said a word when I direct him to fold clothes, then grab diapers and a brand-new pack of wet wipes.

"You know you can not go to LA if you need more time alone to process this?"

"Oh, fuck that," he says with a scoff. "I don't need time to process this ," he mimics me. "I'm just trying to figure out if I really was a dick or not."

He looks toward me then quickly away.

"You weren't at all. You just have questions, I understand that. Kevin and Cameron were probably referring to your tone when they said you were being a dick. Don't worry so much, man." I slap him—gently—on the shoulder, and nod at the two bags that are zipped and ready. "Take those downstairs while I get my own shit, yeah?"

"You got it."

And that's that.

Robbie's pediatrician declares he's in perfect health and has had all the necessary shots for his age—which I already knew, since they had those records at his old daycare back in Texas, but it's nice to get confirmation.

Then we're off to the private air strip I used not even ten days ago, and climbing the stairs to the small private plane the company I'm shooting a commercial for sent for me.

We pick up Dorothea on the way, and she takes a liking to Rashan who's constantly trying to make Robbie laugh harder and harder.

When we're about to take off, I remember the way lil' man cried his eyes out when we first took off from Texas, and get a bottle ready so his ears don't bother him.

Dorothea looks at me with approving eyes and Rashan with wonder in his. I smirk at my teammate. The man has no idea the things you learn when you're taking care of a one-year-old, mostly dependent human being.

Rashan comes with me to dinner with all the publicity people involved in this project that night—some fancy ass place near the beach of Santa Monica that has amazing seafood—and I manage to only check the monitor app on my phone five times.

There's a surprise when we call it a night and bump into Derek Johnson—Safety for the LA Warriors and one of Bennett's college friends—hand in hand with his fiancé, Hawk Storm. Hawk's half of The Storm, one of the best country-rock bands in the last century for sure.

Derek greets me easily enough. The man hardly ever smiles anyway, so I don't take it personally. Rashan though, that dude scoffs at the way Derek smirks at him. Last time we all saw each other was at the Conference Championship—which we lost when Derek forced a fumble on poor Rashan and took the ball all the way back to his end zone.

It was a tough pill to swallow, but right now the only thing I care about is that Hawk is looking at me with a very fucking suspicious smile.

I introduce myself regardless, and feel a shiver run down my spine when his smile only gets even more evil. "Oh, I've heard all about you, Luke."

"Yo—you have?" Fuck, this is not the moment to stumble over my words.

"Of course. Derek has a lot of shit to say about everyone who doesn't play for LA."

My shoulders relax, as does my uneasy stomach, but I soldier on. If Hawk knows something from Bennett then he's going to have to spell out his questions for me, I'm not gonna help him interrogate me.

"I just bet he does," I say, and let my southern twang come out to play.

Hawk smiles, more appreciative this time, and simply nods.

Then we both look to our companions at the same time to see them locked in a staring match. "Jesus fucking Christ," I mutter, and take a good grip of Rashan's bicep, even if I can't circle the damn huge thing. I can't circle a football with my hand either, and I don't drop balls. Ever.

Okay, maybe I do have some unconscious resentment toward Rashan for the way we lost last year's season, but that's my shit to deal with.

And I will be dealing with it before the season starts, that's for damn sure. Still, there are more pressing things to deal with at the moment. Like getting the hell out of here and back to the hotel where I can see that Robbie's sleeping peacefully with my own two eyes.

"Have a nice dinner," I tell them with the friendliest smile I can muster, and just drag Rashan after me to the waiting car.

"Man, I love that guy," Rashan exclaims inexplicably as soon as the backdoor closes behind me.

"What?" I demand. "You two looked like you were one wrong move away from tearing into each other."

"Nah," he drawls, and waves a hand carelessly. "We always do that thing when we play where we stare at each other until someone cracks up laughing. Normally, I win." He says the last bit with so much confidence, that I instantly know it's total bullcrap.

"Oh, you do not. No one in the world has a better poker face than Derek fucking Johnson. I dream of the day he retires, and I can once again play football without seeing his unrelenting stare twice a year."

"It's been more than twice a year since that bunch got into the league, though."

"Ugh, I know." I groan and throw my head back against the headrest.

"He makes you better, just like playing against Darnell Jr. has made you better too."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up and let me whine for a while."

"Okay, but only until we get to the hotel, then I'm giving you shit again for whining so damn much."

"Thanks," I say with a sigh, resigned.

All of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday morning are as busy as Thursday, if not more .

I wake up early, get ready to shoot the commercial, then work on that for about eleven hours so by the time I get to our hotel suite I'm beat.

I do all I can to still spend quality time with Robbie. Rashan spends time with me, or out and about in the city catching up with friends who are training in LA during the off season, or he stays with Dorothea and Robbie and hangs out with them.

I think about Bennett about every two seconds, but I don't get nearly enough time to have a conversation with him, even through text, let alone a phone call.

I text when I can, whatever I can think of to somehow relay to him how amazing I'm still feeling after our date days ago.

But as the days go by, his answers get shorter and more infrequent.

I did explain when we landed on Thursday that I wouldn't have much time, but did I do something else wrong?

What if he was put off by the way I was whining for more time with him at the end of our date?

What if he doesn't want to deal with the mess I clearly am?

Bennett has his shit together, and I get peed on regularly. What can I possibly offer him?

I go straight to Gab's Monday morning after ensuring Dorothea has all she needs for a full day with Robbie at home.

"Oh, dear," is all she says when she opens the door for me.

"No, I think I fucked it up already, and I need advice, Gab. You gotta help me."

"No," she says without an ounce of humor or sympathy, and turns her back on me to walk into her home office .

"What do you mean, no ?" I demand.

She goes straight to her desk and grabs her phone, starts tapping furiously at the screen before I can even ask another question.

"I'm not going to talk to you about dating because I really don't want to, or about parenting because that's just gonna depress me. You need someone to talk to who won't crumble at the thought of her precious babies being grown women. So, Lucas Riggs, I'm getting you a new friend. The list of available men for the job isn't long. I mean, athlete, father, and gay. As far as I'm concerned, there's only one of those around here. So," she declares, and finally puts down her phone and looks at me.

"So, what? What is going on?"

"I have the Draft in about seventy-two hours, Luke. If you can't focus only on that then you can't be around me right now, got it?"

"I—" I snap my mouth shut sharply. "Yes. You're right, sorry."

"You're forgiven. Now go home and don't come back until you can focus on what I need you to focus on, okay?"

"Yeah, okay, but what about the frien?—"

"He's gonna be at your place in half an hour. Now scram, I hope I get to see you tomorrow."

I nod. Then, confused as fuck—who the hell is Gab sending to my place?—walk right back out of her house and into my car.

I send Dorothea home when I arrive home and play with Robbie and his cars while I wait for my new friend to get here.

"Ohhhh," I say as soon as I open the door and see Jules Dupont, the best hockey player ever, on my doorstep. "That's what she meant by athlete, father, and gay."

"I guess you're talking about Gab?"

"Yes, our mom organized a playdate for us," I say with a cheeky grin.

He just grunts and walks past me into the house.

"Where's this adorable kid I was promised? And the alcohol free beer?" I scramble to catch up to him, and try to keep up with everything Gab promised him to get him here. "I need your help," I tell Jules once he's settled on the patio with a full beer bottle in his hand—thank God I did have some alcohol free ones. He's watching Robbie run and crawl around the garden though, not me.

"I figured," he says, and finally looks at me. Then he nods and I understand this is the moment for me to shine.

So, I explain it all, tragic childhood and all, up until this morning—when I sent a good morning text to Bennett, and he hadn't answered two hours later so I texted again asking if he was okay and he answered super coldly.

Bennett

Yeah, everything's fine.

Morning.

"That's it?" Jules demands, as he tries to scroll further down my text conversation with Bennett.

"I know right? So what do you think I did wrong?"

"Well, unless you left a big fucking part of the story out, you did nothing wrong." I feel better seeing his barely-contained outraged stare at my phone. He locks it, gives it back, then looks out at the garden again. "Let me think about this for a second. "

"Sure," I shrug. Not like I have anywhere else to be today. I take both now-empty beer bottles to the kitchen and give him space.

He shakes his head when I offer a bottle of water to him.

"So, what's the verdict, man?"

"There are two options here. Either you really did forget a big part of the evening where you fucked up, or he's anxious and doubting everything you've ever said. I mean, I think that'd be me in his shoes. This guy, who I think is amazing, just so happens to be ace like I am? " Jules emphasizes the question to make it clear he's seeing it from Bennett's point of view and he looks at me with an incredulous twist to his mouth, and... yeah I guess he has a point but...

"But I am, man. I told you, I realized it the second he explained and it clicked in my brain."

"Yeah, I don't have any reason not to believe you, but what about him? Did he say anything about his dating history? Maybe he's just been fucked over one too many times and trust comes hard for him. That'd be me."

I stay silent, going through every single thing Bennett has said about his past, and dammit, I can't remember if he said anything at all.

I don't think he did say anything specifically about himself when he was explaining all the different types of asexuality.

"There's also a third option." Jules' voice sounds thoughtful so I latch on to the new possibility.

"What is it?" You could never mistake the eagerness in my voice for anything else.

"He's just not that into you," he says, as he slowly turns his head and looks at me with an evil smirk .

"Oh, fuck you, dude."

Jules cracks up laughing and after a few seconds, I do too.

Looks like I made a new friend, after all.

Now I just have to get back into Bennett's good graces.