9. Lucas

CHAPTER 9

LUCAS

Coop: So, when are you going to let me give you that book? I still have the bags.

I glanced at the rest of the squad at Bodied. For the past few years, the small, private gym had been awesome to us, between the discounted membership and arranging to use the space on the days they were generally closed. But it felt too crowded and too overwhelming surrounded by the rest of the team while I was trying to sneakily check my texts from Cooper. Since the weekend, we'd been texting one another several times a day. It was Wednesday, and we'd both been busting our asses with training, him with some sponsorship and admin stuff, me with Queering Sports and teaching.

And by several, I mean maybe two, three dozen times. Or more if I found some funny memes about football or athletes.

Cooper didn't seem bothered by it, though, always replying when he had the time, never telling me I was being annoying or too chatty. He must like me, I thought. I'd have been sick of me by the fourth meme.

Me: You didn't peek? I'd have peeked.

Cooper: Some of us are better at being patient. Taking our time. Making it last... *winking emoji *

Me: Shut up. I'm at the gym with the squad. Can't do leg presses with a hard-on.

Cooper's reply was a bit longer coming, the dots bouncing then stopping, bouncing then stopping. Finally, he sent it.

Cooper: I feel like there's a sex joke in there somewhere, but I can't make it happen.

Me: *tongue sticking out emoji *

"You're gonna get your ass fired," Marisol announced, dropping to sit beside me. Sweaty and breathing hard, she gestured at me with her water bottle. "Don't lie and say you're not talking to Cooper Howard. I had a feeling in my gut at the fundraiser. My grandma had the Eye and she said it runs in the family." She tapped the center of her forehead. "My cousin Ellie, she can throw a curse like no one's business. Me, I'm good at sussing out when people are lying." She gave me a pointed, eyebrow-raised glare.

"I'm not lying about anything. I'm just texting with Cooper about the fundraiser in August."

"You're flirting with him. You've wanted in that man's jock since at least the fun fair, if not before. And don't you give me that tongue click and eye roll, Lucas. I know you. You're one of my BFFs, and you cannot lie to me."

"Which is it? You got your grandma's magic powers or I'm a bad liar?"

"Don't you try to distract me. You know this is a bad idea," she hissed, grabbing my wrist when I started to stand. "Even if you weren't literally contractually forbidden from dating a player, what about all that shit with Jimmy?"

"Cooper isn't Jimmy," I muttered, glowering at her fingers on my arm. "I... I thought maybe he'd be like Jimmy too, but he's not."

"How do you know?"

"Because he's not!" The sudden quiet that pooled around us told me I'd been way louder than I'd meant to. Marisol let go of my wrist and made a whatever gesture, but I knew we weren't done with the topic. Shoving my phone in my bag, I went back to the circuit. A few times, I caught her and Liz with their heads bent together, glancing my way only to stop when they caught me looking.

Fanfuckingtastic. I smelled an intervention.

By the time I'd done my rounds and run through a cooldown, I had just an hour before I needed to be at the studio, so I couldn't linger and chat like usual. When Marisol, Liz, and Tori trailed after me towards the locker rooms, I stopped and shot them all three a stern look. "I know we're close, but I am fully capable of changing without help."

"Lucas, listen," Tori began in a gentle, firm tone, ever the Mom-friend. "Marisol told us you're messing with a player, and that's not just gonna come back and bite you on the ass, but any of us who knew about it too."

"Marisol doesn't know that I'm doing anything," I shot back. "Marisol is pulling things out of thin air."

"Am I?" she demanded. "Lucas, I'm not dumb." She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a near whisper. "Someone saw the two of you this weekend, okay?"

Shit. I pasted a smile on and shrugged, forcing down the wave of nausea threatening to send me bolting for the bathroom. "He asked to meet up. Cass and Dani cleared me working with him, and it's okay. Management gave the go-ahead."

"Lucas," Liz sighed. "Look, none of us are famous enough to get recognized on the street?—"

"Unless it's by those creepers who think we're all nymphos," Marisol added.

Liz rolled her eyes. "Them aside, some gossip pages say Cooper Howard was seen on a date with a guy who looks a lot like you. They described his date as short, dark hair, Latine?—"

"So that could be like forty percent of the male population of Texas," I pointed out.

"Don't be dumb," Marisol snapped. "It's not that hard to figure out. And it doesn't even have to be true," she added. "It just has to seem true for management to cut you loose."

"And to come down on the squad, too, since we'd obviously know. You're not exactly being lowkey, Lucas," Liz said gently. "Look, I'm not telling you who to date or fuck. Just... be careful, okay?"

"Remember Jimmy," Marisol said with a sneer. "You didn't think he'd turn out to be an asshole, either."

"Jimmy wanted me to lie," I hissed. "He wanted me to be okay with him dating a woman—him marrying a woman—and keeping me on the side!"

"Until it was convenient for his career to be out and proud," Tori reminded me. "And then what happened?"

I pursed my lips into a thin line, the words burning my throat.

"He decided you weren't the right kind of queer guy he wanted to be seen with. And you found out when he stepped out with that asshole Tyson Janes," Marisol continued. Tori and Liz shifted uncomfortably—they'd been there when the shit with Jimmy went down. On Thursday, he and I had talked about our big debut, now that he was retiring from the NFL after a devastating knee injury. On Friday he'd been papped out and on the town in New York City with Tyson Janes, the supermodel son of a billionaire hotel magnate. The only response I received when I tried to talk to Jimmy had been a cease and desist from his lawyers and a threat of a lawsuit if I ever spoke about our relationship, with a stern reminder about my own contractual obligations to not date players.

"I'm not trying to be a bitch," Marisol sighed.

"You're failing," Liz huffed. "Listen, we just don't want to see you get fucked over again, okay? And we don't want you to lose your career. Just... if—if—you are seeing Cooper Howard... be careful, okay? Like however careful you think you need to be, double that."

I nodded faintly, stomach still roiling. "I have to go. Got class soon. See you at practice tonight," I muttered, turning away and striding into the locker room.

When I emerged later, the gym was almost empty, and I could make a beeline for my car, pretending I wasn't about to burst into tears.

Thankfully, Tia Lynda wasn't behind the counter when I got to the studio. One of the older students who sometimes picked up a few hours to help pay for classes gave me a sunny smile and wave, pretending she wasn't hiding her phone in her lap.

I sailed past on my way to the Beginners' Hip Hop class. As usual, the kids were full of energy like trying to herd hyperactive cats, but it was a relief from my circling worries and kept me from sending something to Cooper I probably shouldn't. In fact, I didn't get a chance to even look at my phone untilafter I got home. I had a few hours before I needed to be at the field for our practice, so I took a quick shower and made some food before checking messages. Cooper had texted me a few times—some risqué emoji combinations, a hint about the book he'd picked for me ( It's not about sports, he promised), and asking if I wanted to grab some dinner before he met with his agent.

Me: Too late. Already eating. Had training this a.m. then teaching, about to go to the field for practice.

Cooper: The field? I didn't know y'all practiced there. I sort of thought y'all just showed up on game day.

I snorted to myself before replying.

Me: We use the field sometimes, to block out bigger routines and get a feel for any changes to the space between the end of the season and the start of preseason. Usually, we practice at a big studio downtown.

He asked me a few more questions—how long practices were, was it as tiring as it sounded—and I felt a tiny warm glow, pleased he was asking about my day, my life. Jimmy never gave a fuck, I reminded myself. It was always about his schedule, his day, his life.

I rinsed my dishes and set them in the dishwasher, pausing to send one more text to Cooper, letting him know I'd be out of touch for a while. Then my phone rang. Giddily, I grabbed it to answer without checking the caller ID. "Hey," I laughed. "Texting not enough for you? I can't do dinner tonight but maybe?—"

"Easy there, stud," Cassie interrupted, amused. "It's just me. Though I'm flattered your foray into dating a woman would be with me, I have to tell you my wife would not be thrilled with the idea."

"Oh. Oh, hey..." I deflated. "Um, I'm heading out to practice in a few so..."

"I know. I wanted to talk to you before you left. Try and get ahead of things, so to speak. Have you checked your email this evening?"

"No?" I headed over to where I'd left my laptop on the coffee table the night before and opened it up, clicking on the email icon. "What's going on? You're freaking me out here, Cassie."

"Liesel sent out an email before checking in with me, which is her right since the squad doesn't have any control over Queering Sports' PR or business, but I thought maybe you'd like to know before finding out when you checked social media tomorrow."

Liesel's email was in the first ten in my inbox, a little red flag marking it as VIP. Great News! was the subject line.

Apparently, leftover spaghetti and a side salad can turn into a rock in your stomach given the right conditions. "I'm about to open it," I warned Cassie. "What am I walking into here?"

"News of Cooper Howard's involvement has really lit a fire in the league, apparently, and several players have reached out to take part in upcoming events."

Oh shit.

"He's like Bloody Fucking Mary," I wheezed, a panicked laugh burbling up in my chest. "I said his name too many times, and I summoned him."

"Lucas..."

"No, no. Let me read."

Hey gang! This is awesome news! Ash has been working so hard on the football camps for the kids, but we all know how hard it's been to get and keep funding for projects like this. Well, we've had a small miracle occur, and a wonderful donor has not only contributed enough for us to run the camp for FIVE YEARS—they've also volunteered their time and name.

I want y'all to welcome Jameson Creel to our volunteer team! In addition to Ash and Cooper, Jimmy's going to be part of our social media blasts going forward and developing the organization's football camps, workshops, and expo games!

"Hey, Cassie," I wheezed after a moment. "Just a quick question here, but...what the fuck?"

Cassie's dry, tired chuckle was familiar and almost a balm—she knew how bad it had been with Jameson, especially towards the end. How much I'd spiraled. How I'd shut down and almost gave up everything I'd worked so hard for just because some man who couldn't own up to being with me decided to tell me I wasn't good enough.

And I'd believed him.

Cooper would never...

"Queering Sports doesn't owe us anything when it comes to letting us know who they're working with or, well... anything, really. Unless you're organizing the event, which is the case for the upcoming fundraisers you have set with them..." She trailed off. "Hon, I don't think you're going to be able to avoid seeing Jameson."

"I can if I quit," I muttered, then shook my head, knocking that thought loose even as Cassie sputtered. "No, I'm not going to. He doesn't get to drive me out of this. He can eat a bag of rancid dicks for all I care."

She was silent for a moment. "That's disgusting, Lucas. But I like that. Keep that thought in mind. Is it going to be a problem meeting with Liesel on Monday for your next-step meeting?"

"Why would it be?" I hastily tabbed over to my calendar app and checked the date. "I'll be professional. She had no idea about Jimmy."

Cassie hummed agreement. "Of course. Just thought it best to check."

I paused. She sounded weird. Hesitant, maybe a little worried. "Cassie. What's going on?"

"Well. There's been a few rumors going around. Gossip, really. You know the team doesn't get a lot of space in the gossip pages, but a few really glom onto the guys."

Damn it. Marisol was right. "Is this about me having drinks with Cooper the other night?"

Cassie's breath came out in a whoosh. "You've heard then?"

"That I had drinks with him? Well, I was there, so yes..."

"Don't be a smartass," she scolded. "Right now, management is not concerned. You have clearance to work with Cooper for this project, and you weren't acting in an untoward or overly familiar manner. At least not as was reported. But be careful, Lucas. Do you hear me?"

"Marisol already gave me the talking-to earlier," I sighed. "I know."

Cassie was quiet for another moment. "I know you're not going to screw yourself over for a bit of fun, Lucas. But I also know you lead with your heart nine times out of ten. I'm not gonna tell you what to do—I know what the contracts say, and I also think that's ridiculous, thank you very much. But I am going to remind you how much is riding on your reputation, and what it would mean for the squad as well as your future."

I promised her I'd be careful, she made some chiding noises about me running late, and we rang off.

"Well, shit," I sighed, scrubbing my hands over my face. "Shit, shit, shitty shit shit."

Not only was I going to be late, but I was also going to be distracted. This was going to be amazeballs.

"Dude. What the hell was that shit?" Marisol demanded. Practice had been rough. The new routines weren't sticking, some maintenance stuff was going on loudly, the sound system wasn't working right... And I'd fumbled two catches, nearly dropping Liz and Tori.

"It's been a day," I muttered, huddling over my knees. We were about to do our last run-through of our newest routine, needlessly complicated but definitely a crowd pleaser. "I need a minute."

Marisol sat beside me, tapping her toes on the ground in a rapid, frustrated rhythm, fidgeting with the metallic poms half the squad had for the routine. "I'm sorry I came off as bitchy today," she said quietly as the others milled around, waiting for the end of break. "You're one of my best friends, Lucas, and I don't want bad shit to happen to you, okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I whispered. "I know. Did you hear about Jimmy?"

Marisol hesitated, then nodded herself. "Tori told me just before practice started. You gonna be okay, or do I need to take up a bail money collection?"

Her brisk tone made me giggle, which infected her a second later. "I'm gonna keep on doing what I've been doing." I bumped her shoulder with mine. "I'll do my best not to let him take up any real estate in my head, you know? If he's gonna throw money at Queering Sports, then we're gonna use it. If he's gonna help the kids, then okay. But he's not part of my life, and I'm gonna make damn sure it stays that way."

Marisol pursed her lips like she wanted to say something but, after a moment, shrugged. "Okay, bestie. But just so you know, my brother Marvin works for a funeral home. If we need to hide a body, I know a guy."

Coach Dani blew her whistle, and we were on our feet, conversation over in a heartbeat. We dragged ourselves into one more round. By the time we wrapped up at ten, all of us were dragging ass. "Fuck, I wish they'd let us use the showers," Neda, one of the new members, grumbled. "I hate driving home sweaty."

"It's still in the high nineties," I pointed out. "Even if we could shower here, we'd be dripping by the time we got to our cars."

"Y'all can't shower here?"

Cooper's voice startled us. Emerging from the dark entrance to the tunnel under the seats, he looked effortlessly, casually cool in a loose, light button up open to his chest and pale blue shorts verging on Magnum P.I. length. Which, by the bye, is the only correct length for men's shorts, so jot that down. "Seriously, y'all have to leave all gross and grassy?"

Ah. So maybe that was disgust and not lust in his eyes. "We have showers at home," I returned primly, parroting what Dani told every newbie with delusions of grandeur. "The team's facilities are off limits unless it's something like this." I gestured at the field. "Even then, we're on a tight constraint and have a babysitter." Two security guards watched over our practice, ostensibly for our safety but really to make sure we weren't getting too big for our britches and getting into the team's beeswax. "What are you doing here?" I added in as low a whisper as I could manage.

"Had to stop by to drop off some paperwork for Coach and I wanted to see you."

"There's too many people," I whispered hurriedly. "I'm gonna get in trouble." And it was true—Dani was staring hard at us, as were a few of the other squad members. Even with the fundraiser excuse, it was a hair-thin line we were walking. "There's people everywhere!"

Cooper's smile fell away entirely. He looked up at the empty stands and did a slow, considering turn, brow furrowed, and lips crimped into a frown, seemingly forgetting he was surrounded by the cheer squad and our very annoyed coaching staff. "If you don't mind, Mr. Howard, we need to get going. We've already stayed past our allotted time," Dani called out.

Cooper jolted, shooting her a sheepish, apologetic smile. "Sorry, ma'am. I'm working with Lucas on the Queering Sports fundraising campaign, and we had a meeting scheduled for after practice."

Dani's brows nearly met her hairline. "Did you now?" She turned her sharp gaze towards me. "I was unaware of that. But I suppose what Lucas does on his own time is his own business."

Every eye in the squad was on us. Cooper was loose-limbed, still frowning around the field as if looking for some hidden meaning in the grass, oblivious to the keen interest in our meeting. Forcing a small smile, I nodded at Dani. "It's not a big deal. Cooper, did you bring the, uh, thing?"

His attention moved back to me. "The thing? Did I bring it?"

I wanted to kiss that slow smirk right off his face.

"I left it in my truck."

"Well. Then. We'll.... We'll just go get it?"

He nodded, his own grin slow and sharp. "We should."

"Oh my god," Tori muttered. "You are so getting fired."