11. Lucas

CHAPTER 11

LUCAS

The next few days were some of the best I'd had in years. The grind was still a thing, absolutely no changing that, but the texts and calls from Cooper were bursts of color in the world, like finding one of those stringy mystery weeds growing in the sidewalk crack was really a rose.It didn't go unnoticed by anyone, really. The squad commented on how cheerful I was. Lynda was suspicious and asked if I had a new man and if Renata knew I was slutting it up in her home. My students even noticed. Kyle figured out almost immediately that I 'had a thing' going on.

Renata swore I sounded lighter and made me swear to tell her all the details when she came back and wasn't surrounded by kids and burly Norwegian-Canadian hockey players. She sounded happier than I'd heard her in months, but I didn't want to point it out in case she remembered why she wasn't exactly kicking up her heels back here in Texas. "Mom wanted me to tell you to call her," I added before we hung up.

Renata made an annoyed, displeased sound. "She's trying to set me up with some guy from her church. It's been long enough, mija. Bas needs a solid father figure," she mimicked in a fair approximation of our mom's accent.

"Then I guess you don't want to hear that Dad's hired on a new nurse practitioner named Charles and was asking when your next day off was."

"Oh, god, it's spreading," she sighed. Bas made a happy, high-pitched sound in the background while someone—probably Renata's brother-in-law Soren—shouted in pain. Renata chuckled softly. "I gotta go, Lucas. The kid's discovered beards are fun to yank, and Soren's going to be bald-faced soon if I don't rescue him."

"Call me," I ordered. "Soon, okay? It's getting lonely being the only kid for the family to pick on. I need you here to use as a human shield."

"Ha fucking ha." She hesitated for just a few seconds—if Bas wasn't shrieking in the background, I'd have thought she'd hung up on me. Finally, she said in a low, hurried voice barely above a whisper, "You know, you don't have to see them, right? Or take their shit?"

I groaned, leaning against the counter and closing my eyes. She had a very good point, one she'd made many times before, especially over the past year. "It's fine. I mean, Lynda does mean well, you know? And she and Mom lost so much when they came here. They just want?—"

"Bup bup!" Renata silenced me. "They just want to live their dreams through us . Swear to god, blowing out my knee was the best thing that happened to me because it got them off my back about dancing. I sucked, and I hated doing it. But you..." She sighed. "Lucas, you deserve every good thing, okay? Andyou are amazing at what you do. Don't let Mom and Lynda's dreams keep you tied to something you've outgrown. Now," she said before I could protest, "I need to go save Soren from Baz and get some sleep. We're gonna go see Del tomorrow."

Even though she couldn't see me, I nodded. "I love you."

"As you should." I could hear the smile in her voice before she hung up. She was far, and I missed her like crazy, but knowing she wasn't dealing with the heavy expectations of our family was a breath of fresh air... And a tiny hint of envy. But I'd have to squish down and examine that annoying emotion later, after this new event promo started. For the time being, I had to balance my work, my volunteering, and just being alive, never mind whatever was happening with Cooper. Taking it slow was the best idea, I told myself as I headed for the bedroom. It was only Monday, and already I was worn thin and ready to collapse. Not talking to Cooper for a few days would be fine.

Totally freaking fine.

I was such a liar.

On Thursday, four days since we'd last talked in person, our time off aligned just right, and we could call instead of text. I stretched out on my bed, grinning to myself when I saw Cooper's name pop up on the screen.

"You sound like you're lying down," he said, almost accusatory, as soon as I answered.

"Maybe I'm standing on my head. You won't know unless you come over."

Cooper groaned. "Can't. Want to but can't. We have a mandatory team meeting this evening. Reviewing tapes." He laughed when I called it Real Housewives of the Gridiron. "Some days it sure feels like it," he groaned. "Two of the newbies got into it in the weight room earlier, just a dumbass dick-measuring contest, both of 'em barely old enough to drink but sure they're god's gift to football."

"Ugh. I remember guys like that from high school and college," I sighed. "They always thought they were entitled to the cheerleaders and drill girls too."

Cooper was quiet for a long moment. When he asked, his voice had a dangerous, sharp edge. "Is that why you said you don't get with players? Because someone thought they were entitled to you, Lucas?"

"I told you. It's because of the contract," I said, only a half lie. Cooper's silence told me he didn't believe me, or at least thought there was more to be said. I thought of Jimmy—Jameson, since he detested nicknames professionally—and something inside me crumpled. As much as I hated him, as much as he'd hurt me and threatened me, a tiny part of me still felt like I should keep that secret. That maybe I deserved to be silenced.

Why, though? Because Jameson wanted to portray the image that he was the right kind of queer guy, placate fans and management.

I wasn't enough . I wasn't right.

Fuck him. I was about to have to work with that asshole while he threw his money around and dragged Queering Sports into his orbit? Nope. "I dated a pro player," I heard myself say, sounding like I was speaking in another room. Cooper made a startled sound. "Uh, it was several year ago. I was in my last year at undergrad and just starting out pro myself."

"Do I know him?"

I heard the unasked question. "He doesn't play for the Troopers. He, um... he doesn't play for anyone anymore. He retired after an injury."

"I gotta admit I'm trying to do the math here, but so many of us have forced retirement..."

I worried my lower lip with my upper teeth for a minute. "Okay," I sighed. "I'll tell you, but you have to let me get it all out, okay?"

To his credit, Cooper was very quiet during the entire story, even the parts that made me want to curl up in remembered, remaining shame. "So, I got intimidated into keeping my mouth shut. And really, nothing he did was illegal or anything. Just... being a giant floppy dick about our relationship. About me."

"Jameson Creel," Cooper said slowly, intentionally, "was a shit player, and I'm glad that sack by Philly's cornerback took out his knee."

I huffed a small, startled laugh. "Wow."

"And blackmail is illegal, you know. Threatening to expose you, to make you lose your job, to sue you? All blackmail."

"You're cute," I sighed. "But no. It's not. Marisol checked. She works for a law firm—has since undergrad—and it's just shitty. Not a crime."

Cooper huffed. "It should be." He shifted on his end of the line, fabric rustling as he moved.

"Why do we always end up in bed when we talk?" I complained halfheartedly. "Why don't we ever talk while we're sitting in chairs or standing up?"

He chuckled distractedly. "Maybe it's because it's the ass end of the day and we're both tired by the time we get the chance?"

"Oh, and here I was thinking it's because we're just always eager to try and get each other horizontal."

Cooper clicked his tongue, but he had a smile in his voice. "Now Mr. Ortiz, I thought we were having a serious conversation about Jameson Creel being a human-sized hemorrhoid. Are you trying to distract me?"

"Is it working?" I groaned, flopping back on my bed. "I don't want to talk about him anymore. I want to pretend he doesn't exist until I absolutely have no choice. Then, when the meeting is over, I want to go back to pretending he's just a bad smell in the room."

Cooper snorted softly. "I like the idea, but I don't think that's how it's going to work. Not if he's throwing money at the group like this."

"Well," I said slowly, an idea taking shape, "then we just have to make sure he's not the most interesting guy in the room, won't we?" Cooper made a startled sound as I hurried on. "Be your charming self, and Jameson will look like a no-neck-having blowhard toad in comparison. And just really go balls to the wall on this promo stuff before the next fundraiser. And... do you trust me?"

"Yes," he drew out. "Why? What are you planning on doing?"

I wiggled my feet happily, a growing wave of giddiness swamping over me. "Making this event at least ten times more awesome."

Cooper laughed nervously. "Ah, how so? I thought you already had things all in place for this. Ash sent me a message earlier to confirm I'd help with the training..."

"Oh, I'm not changing that," I promised, ideas spawning and growing by the second. "Trust me. This will be awesome! It will get Queering Sports a heap of support and long-term growth potential. Shit, I need to bust out the spreadsheets for this one. Oooooh, maybe I can add a pivot table!" I do love a good pivot table... I opened my spread sheet app and started moving things around.

"I love it when you talk organizational to me," he purred with a laugh. "Say slide deck. Oh, no, wait! Tell me to optimize my workflow and facilitate the synergy of the customer experience!"

"Oh my god, that's it, I'm breaking up with you," I sniffed, smiling to myself as I opened one of the other sheet tabs.

Cooper suddenly fell silent, the drop in conversation snapping me out of my split focus with a sudden lurch in my belly. I realized belatedly what I'd said. A worm of panic took bites out of my good mood. "Wait?—"

"Breaking up with me," he repeated. "So that means we're together? I mean, since you can't break up with someone you're not dating, so..."

"Uh..." I leaned back from the laptop. "Uh. I mean. I..."

"Lucas..."

Were we? I mean... I wasn't seeing anyone else. I didn't want to. I just wanted to see him. Cooper was who I thought about first whenever I wanted to share something. He was who I wanted to see first thing in the morning and last thing at night. When we weren't together or talking, I wondered how he was doing, if he needed anything, wondered if he missed me too...

"Lucas, it's okay if you're not sure if you want this to be more serious," he said quietly, though his voice told me it was definitely not okay.

I frowned down the line. "You're making a face. That one where you're trying to look all stoic and badass, but your eyes get all tight and your lips go all crimpy. It's the same one you make when y'all lose a game."

"Am not," he grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile in the words. "How do you know?"

"That's your upset face. I may not enjoy football, but I've seen enough of it to know what your upset face looks like."

Cooper made an offended sound. A second later, my phone beeped with an incoming request for a video call. "This," he said as soon as I picked up, "is my upset face for football." He pulled the exact expression I'd just been teasing him about. "And this is my upset face when I find out there's no vegan ice cream left." He made a sad puppy face, lower lip jutting out, brows drawn, head tilted to one side. "And this is my upset face when I see someone's parked too close to my truck and I can't get in since they decided they are super-special parkers and need to crowd other people, so they feel special."

I burst into giggles, unable to stop myself as he demonstrated a few more levels of upset face for me. "Okay okay, fine, you weren't making that face! But you were still upset!"

His expression smoothed, and he shifted, moving nearer to the screen now. It would be easy to pretend he was here with me, I thought that we were lying on my bed in the dark, his head on the pillow beside mine. If I just focused on his face, the rest of the room could fall away. He was just an image on my phone's screen, but that wouldn't matter—my vision would be filled with him and not the reality that we were a city apart, feeling like an entire continent rather than just a handful of miles. "I wasn't upset. I was... cautiously optimistic. That's this face."

His small smile, his slightly raised brows, made something prickle in my chest. "Cautiously, huh?" I murmured. "Well. Maybe hopefully is a better word?"

I shifted onto my side, bringing the phone a little closer. "Hopeful sounds good."

He licked his lips, his gaze traveling to mine, sending a zing of heat through me even across the distance. "I know we'll have to keep this quiet. I really wish we didn't. But?—"

"But yeah." There went my warm fuzzies. The zip and zing of arousal fizzled out under the cold dash of reality. "It's going to suck. Not the us part," I hurried to correct as his face froze. "No! The hiding it part. I... I have bad experiences with that."

He nodded slowly. "I know. I just... I wish it didn't matter."

I blew out a rough breath and shook my head. As my warm glow faded, tiredness crept in. "But it does. For both of us."

"You'd get it worse than I would, if word got out," he muttered, raking his fingers through the tangle of red curls that had fallen in front of his face. He pushed them back so I could see the striking blue of his eyes again. "So, for now, we're private. As much as we want to be seen on one another's arms..."

"In public, purely professional and if anyone asks, it's about the fundraisers. So brush up on your talking points," I teased halfheartedly.

He nodded. "And even if we have to deny involvement, we know the truth."

I nodded, desperate to see him suddenly, Moreso than just a few minutes before. I needed confirmation. Anchoring. Proof , for myself more than anything, this was really happening. "Do you... do you want to come over this weekend? I have Sunday afternoon free."

He nodded. "Unless something comes up. Four? I can make you dinner?"

I smiled. "It's a date."