6. Cooper

CHAPTER 6

COOPER

Lucas tasted like sweet tea and a hint of mint toothpaste and warm and sweet and ugh... My heart was racing a mile a minute, hands shaking. I hadn't felt this riled with a guy since I was fourteen and made out with Tommy Benson behind his parents' garage during the Fourth of July block party.

Lucas made a tiny, desperate noise into the kiss, the sound a fiery dart straight to my groin. Without thinking, I arched against him, relishing the way he tensed, then melted against me. Lucas pulled back again, a soft gasp as we broke for air. Eyes squeezed shut, he tucked his chin to his chest. "What are we doing?" he asked again. "I know what we're doing, but... What are we doing ?"

"Well, I might be a little bit rusty," I admitted with a smile, "but I think the kids call this making out ."

He opened one eye to glare down at me from his perch astride my body. "You're not funny."

"I'm fucking hilarious." I ran my hands up his thighs to his hips, giving him a squeeze. Lucas didn't moan or sigh, but he definitely whined, rocking against me for one second before he stopped himself. "Come back here. We're not done."

He hesitated. "Cooper..."

"I've had the worst crush on you," I interrupted. "For at least two years now."

He huffed, cheeks darkening. "I don't fuck around with players. I don't date y'all, hang out with y'all?—"

I thrust against him, rocking my hard cock against his through our layers of clothing. "Well, you're definitely doing something with a player."

And that was the exact wrong thing to say. Lucas was quick, rolling off me and to his feet with lithe ease. "This was a colossal mistake, Cooper. You need to go, okay? I thought... I thought..."

"What did you think?" I asked, sitting up but not standing. We were both hard enough to cut glass—Lucas didn't bother trying to hide his erection, and I don't think I could've hidden my own if my life depended on it. "I'll tell you what I thought," I went on when he just shook his head in silence. "The two of us are attracted to one another. We have some vibes between us. And we're both adults who want to find out if this," I waved my hand between us, "is something to explore further or a flash in the pan."

He huffed again, this time less amused and more irritated. "I could lose my position on the squad if anyone found out we even kissed," he spat. "Cass pulled every string she had to make sure I could work with you, and I don't want it to all be for nothing."

"Do you get shit about working with Ash?" I asked, naming former Troopers players who did some work with Queering Sports. "Or Rye? Or Yowie?"

He shook his head, not meeting my eyes. Everything in me pulsed with the need to reach out and touch him, to feel that slight roughness of his jaw, the smooth warmth of his throat and collarbones, to taste him again and again. We're alone here, Lucas. Why are you acting like we're under a magnifying glass?

"But I'm not having late evening meeting with those guys," he murmured. "Ash has been volunteering with Queering Sports since forever. He helps run our football camps. But he's not a player. Rye, Yowie, Matty, all the guys who came out to the last fundraiser?" Spreading his hands wide, he made a show of glancing around the room. "Do you see any of them here?"

"I just see you." I stood. He took half a step back, but no more. I moved around the coffee table. "Tell me to stop."

He nodded. "I will."

"Okay." I paused a few feet from him. "Lucas, I'm not asking you to marry me or something. All I'm asking is you don't run hot and cold on me. If you don't want to do this, say so now. Don't... don't go along with what we're feeling and then tomorrow act like I kicked your dog."

He closed his eyes, but I had the feeling he was rolling them even behind the lids. "If my name gets dragged through the mud, I'm not only fucked out of my position with the team but any professional consideration in the field. I'll be oh, that twink who fucks the players and not oh, that's Lucas Ortiz, the guy who gets queer kids involved in sports and made the community welcoming for them."

Defaulting to humor was a failing of mine. I knew it, but I did it anyway. "That sounds like an awful lot to put on a business card."

Lucas opened his eyes to glare at me, but the smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips. "I know it sounds like I'm being overdramatic with this project, Cooper, but there's so much riding on it. Queering Sports could be so much more . And if we're able to steer this in the right way, time everything right, then we con start building up and out instead of entrenching."

His enthusiasm was effervescent, lighting him up as he spoke, hands like hummingbirds when he gestured to emphasize a point or sketch out some vision in the air between us. "It's not just making it financially successful because, really, most organizations like this aren't ever going to turn a profit. And that's fine . All of the money should go to the kids. Queering Sports has an all-volunteer board, and Liesel is one of three paid employees. It's shit pay even by Texas standards."

We were moving slowly back to the sofa. I sank down onto the cushion Lucas had been occupying. Instead of taking up his post at the other end, he sat beside me. Our thighs touching and his eyes bright on some faraway goal, he shot me a small, soft smile.

"But the thing is," Lucas continued, "we're not only changing people's lives—we're redefining what it means to be a team player. It's about acceptance and understanding everyone's unique struggles and journeys, and it's our responsibility to embrace them and learn from one another. If we can make just a small dent in the world, think of the ripple effect."

I couldn't help but feel inspired by Lucas's passion. That kind of conviction made you want to be a part of something bigger than yourself. But I had to be honest with him. "Lucas, I admire your faith, but you're making it sound like a walk in the park. We both know the struggle of fighting for acceptance and change. It won't always be easy..."

"I'm not an idiot." His soft smile slipped into a frown. "You think I don't know that? I've spent most of my life fighting for things. It's never been a walk in the park, Cooper. I?—"

"Hey, hey, just a sec," I cut in, holding my hands up in surrender. His chest heaved with annoyance, the bright eyes of moments before snapping with anger. The urge to panic was definitely rearing its ugly head for me. You just got to kiss him, you asshole. Now you're insulting him? Smooth, Howard. Real fucking smooth. "I'm sorry, Lucas," I said, my voice soft and sincere, hoping to diffuse the tension that had filled the room. "I didn't mean to make it sound like I think you're naive or that I doubt your commitment. I just want to make sure we're both prepared for the effort it will take to see change. I admire your passion for our cause, and I want to help any way I can."

His expression softened, and he let out a deep breath, relaxing his body against the sofa. "You're right, Cooper. This won't be easy. But the alternative is far worse. If we don't try to make a difference, who will? I can't imagine giving up on our community."

I nodded—he was saying things I'd said before to more than one would-be sponsor who wanted to trade on my queerness to sell their product but refused to actually do anything to help. "Okay. Let's focus on the positive, then. All the progress you've already made. That the organization's made."

The tension thrumming through him like a live wire dissipated. His thigh against mine no longer felt like an iron bar.

"You're right," he said, smiling again, "we've come a long way already, and I'm proud of everything we've accomplished so far. But we can't become complacent. There's still so much work to be done."

I grabbed his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I know, and I'm with you every step of the way."

His eyes met mine, the distance between us seemingly melting away.

He didn't let go of my hand for the rest of the night, which kept me smiling long after I got home.

Hell, I was still grinning like a goofball when I met my sister for our weekly run. "Stop laughing at me," she grumbled. "It's too early for this shit."

"It's eight in the morning. And I'm not laughing at you. I'm just smiling."

Heloise pushed her bright pink bangs back out of her face and glared. "Just for the record, I told Greggy if I'm not home by noon, he should avenge me."

"Greggy is five." And that time, I did laugh, stretching my quads on my front steps as she took a rather savage slurp from her water bottle. "Don't get all sloshy. You'll puke."

"Hmph. How far are we going today?"

"Same as last time." Every weekend, we eked out a few hours to run together in Zilker Park, early in the day as we could manage to avoid the worst of the heat. Heloise grumbled, but she never turned me down when I called. It was one of the few times we could visit without worrying about Greggy or the bookstore or my training schedule or anything other than how much distance we were covering and whatever silly challenged we'd set for one another.

Last week, I had to run backwards for a quarter mile, which, hello, corner back. That's easy as closing my eyes. Running backwards is kind of half of my job. She didn't appreciate my return challenge of run without complaining for a quarter mile.

"What's it gonna be today?" I asked as we set out on a slow jog. We'd take it easy until we got to the park, then fall in with the other runners out doing the same thing—escaping the daily grind for a bit, getting some fresh air, and, for folks like Heloise, suffering for their health. "I have to skip for a mile? Crabwalk? Wear a sports bra?"

She huffed, shaking her head. "Today's challenge is telling me what has you looking so dorky."

"I can't help it. That's just my face."

"I didn't say ugly . And whoever it is, when do I get to meet him?" When I started to deny it, she shushed me, jabbing one finger at me to poke my shoulder. "Don't even try to deny it. Whoever texted you a few minutes ago at oh-god-o'clock on Saturday morning had you grinning ear to ear. Unless you're suddenly that excited to hear from Phil, it has to be a new lov-ah."

I cringed, and she laughed. "Never say that word. Ever. Especially not like that."

"Why? Don't you want to talk about your lov-ah?"

We weren't at the park yet, but I put on a burst of speed, leaving her shouting rude things about my parentage until I slowed enough for her to catch up. "We have the same parents," I reminded her as she glared, huffing. "So that makes you a?—"

"We found you in the cat's litter box," she grumbled. "Shut up."

I laughed as we hit the park's running trail, an easy path that ran for about a mile. On my own, I'd go around five or six times, a nice warm up for my day ahead, but with Heloise it was only about once, maybe twice, at a leisurely pace. It was an easy day for me but one I sorely needed. After our parents moved to Dallas for Dad's job when I was in college, Heloise and I were on our own for the first time ever. We were both technically adults, but that first step out of the nest is always a doozy. And when she opened her bookstore and scouts started noticing me, we leaned on one another more than ever, finding a bond as adults we didn't really have as kids.

"Because you were a little shit," Heloise panted when I mentioned how different our relationship was now.

"I'm a delight," I sniffed. "And I wasn't a shit. You just thought you were too cool to have a little brother."

"I was. And I am. But needs musts. So, are you gonna tell me about this new...person?" she teased. "Are they another player? Are they on the same team? Oh my god, is it Anders? Tell me it's Anders. He's so hot!"

"Er, no, ew. And Anders is single if you want me to put in a word."

She made a face. "No thanks. I'm not looking for anything more than a few hours at a time. If even that."

"Also, ew."

Heloise bumped me as we moved around a couple pushing a stroller, moving at just above a speed walking pace. "It's not ew . It's normal for a lot of folks with a sex drive, thank you very much."

"Who watches Greggy while you're out with these guys? Becky? Samantha?"

"Nosy," she retorted. "Jenny from next door. Greggy and her kid Micah are besties. And you can't distract me, Coop. Who's the guy?"

"There's no guy." A tingle of guilt wiggled through all those lovely endorphins the run was stirring up. "Okay, not... yet. Maybe. I don't know. I want there to be."

"Oh my god." Jaw dropping, she stopped.

I turned to jog backwards a few feet, motioning for her to move. "Don't stop like that. Ouisie. That's how you get cramps."

She put on a surprising burst of speed to catch up with me. "I get cramps from my brother making bad choices. Like hooking up with Lucas Ortiz !"

"Shhhhh! Jesus, Ouisie! Just take out a freaking billboard on MoPac, why don't you? And we didn't hook up."

She huffed, either annoyance or the run was catching up with her. I wasn't sure which. "Spill, Coop. You've had the hots for this guy for years. How did it happen? When? What does it mean? Oh my god, you can't tell anyone! It's forbidden!"

The way she whispered forbidden was just too much. I slowed to a fast walk, shaking my head. "We're not trading nuclear secrets," I muttered. "I'm just helping him."

"I bet."

"Oh my god..."

"Challenge," she said sharply. "You tell me all about this not-a-hook-up with your big crush, and I'll run the rest of this trail without telling everyone we meet you're trying to murder me."

"No one would believe you."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take."

We eased into a jog once more. The crowd on the path grew more difficult to navigate as people moved in clusters and some others decided today was the day to show off, running too fast or cutting through groups with nary a warning. Finally, we broke free of the worst of it, and I shot her a glance. She raised a brow at me, a silent go on then .

So, I told her about Lucas's freak out. The plans. All of them. And then last night's meetup. "He's just so passionate," I sighed as we rounded the last corner of the trail. "And I see what they're doing, you know? It's not some cool little thing for the kids to keep busy with. Kids like me and him, the ones that have a hard time in sports with shitty homophobic coaches or transphobic teammates..." I trailed off. "I'm still interested in him in a huge way, but maybe helping out with this whole thing isn't just a time filler, you know? Maybe I can really throw myself at it."

Heloise was quiet as we ran the last quarter mile. When we slowed to a cooldown, heading back towards my place near Zilker, she finally offered any commentary. "I think you need to be careful."

"What do you mean? Phil and Cait are both fine with this. Coach has no problem so long as it doesn't fuck with practice or the games once preseason starts later this summer..."

Darting a concerned, careful glance my way, she shook her head. "You invest a lot of yourself in projects, Coop, and lose sight of things. And not just things like the sports group. What I'm worried about, what I'm cautioning you over, is your tendency to go from zero to sixty in a heartbeat when it comes to loving someone, Coop."

"I'm not in love with him. Lust, maybe. And I'm definitely attracted to him. And I want to get to know him better. I want... I want to see if this becomes anything. But Lucas is high-strung, and he's so focused on this project. And last night I kind of had an eye-opening moment—maybe this is something I want to be part of too. Not just for these handful of events to give them a boost but in a real, meaningful way."

"Cooper," she sighed, that tone familiar from a lifetime of exasperated big sister lectures, but I didn't cave. No you might have a point or okay, okay, I'll think about it this time.

She stared at me, her pink and black hair damp on her forehead, face red from the run or aggravation or maybe both. Finally, she nodded. "Okay. Okay. You're a big boy, and so is he. Just promise me something, Coop. If this turns to shit, you cut him off immediately. Don't try to fix things. Don't try to fix him. And for the love of god, don't try to fix yourself ."

For the first time I could remember, Heloise beat me back to my door.