Following the Rules (The Script Club 1)

Ryan barked a laugh. “I fuckin’ told you so! Now look, it’s also not a done deal. But I talked them into a full evaluation, which could lead to a spot on the squad. I have a buddy who’s a trainer and…”

An evaluation. It was standard procedure, but between the multiple concussions and the fact that I hadn’t been on a field in months, I wasn’t so sure I’d pass with flying colors. I pushed the self-doubt aside just as that mildly distracted tone crept into his voice, indicating he was about to sign off. Fuck that—this guy had literally left me hanging for weeks. I needed more info.

“Did the OC mention timing? I could be ready this weekend or next week.”

“Hang on, Si. I haven’t talked to anyone on the offensive staff. But their trainer says they’ve been pummeled with injuries, so there might be an opportunity there. That’s all.”

Suddenly that “fuckin’ great news” sounded more like a placating brush-off than a promising deal. One of dozens I’d heard over the past few months. Why did I have a bad feeling he was stringing me along until I called uncle or until his contract with me was over?

“Oh.”

“Hey, don’t give up. I know you’re frustrated, and I know you’re dying to get on that field. It must fuckin’ kill you to watch your buddies on TV. I know that. I’m trying for you, man. We’ll make something happen.”

“Hmm. Right.”

“That’s the spirit,” he enthused. “How’s school going?”

“It’s good,” I replied distractedly.

“Fan-fuckin’-tastic. You keep doin’ your thing, and I’ll keep working on my end. The second I hear something substantial I’ll let you know. In the meantime, chin up, Murphy. Think positive. Broncos, Broncos,” he chanted as he disconnected the call.

I sat in my car for a moment, unsure how to process this info. Topher would probably point out the lack of facts in my agent’s “news.” A week or two ago I might have clung to that thread of hope like a lifeline. Now, that didn’t seem like a wise strategy. Hey, that didn’t mean I’d given up. But it might mean that it was time to grow up.

6

Topher

“So, how’s our neighborhood academic assistant?”

I leaned against the kitchen counter and peered over the rim of my mug at George as he poured himself a cup of coffee. His now jet-black hair contrasted with his crisp white oxford shirt and jeans. I was tempted to tease him about this new casual professional look. It was so…not George. Apparently, his supervisor hadn’t approved of his pink locks and had asked him to tone it to something more “normal.”

It didn’t do any good to remind him that he usually changed the color to black at this time of year, anyway. George hadn’t been happy. And the fact that he’d been pretty distracted with his internship had worked in my favor. Though, truthfully, I hadn’t seen much of him lately.

Was I avoiding him? Well, yes. Maybe a little.

I couldn’t tell him that I got naked and horizontal with his brother every chance I had over the past few weeks. He might hate me or think I’d corrupted Simon. It was a sticky situation. George was pretty open-minded, but he assumed his brother was straight, and he somehow got a strange notion I was seeing Jake on the side.

I guess I looked a bit sex-mussed one afternoon last week after Simon left the house, narrowly missing George when he arrived home early. It wasn’t one of Simon’s school days, but we’d figured we could tell them we were studying for a test if it came up.

We hadn’t exactly been caught in action, but my midday rumpled bed sheets told a story. And when George popped in to say hi, he jumped to the conclusion that I’d hooked up with Jake again. I didn’t lie. He scolded me and said something about hoping Simon would keep me out of trouble. I’d told him Simon didn’t have class on Fridays and boom…I had an alibi.

Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t actively lie. I just didn’t tell the truth. I couldn’t…for so many obvious reasons. And for a guy who liked hard, cold facts, even lies of omission rankled me. The only thing that kept me from total panic was knowing that my “arrangement” with Simon was temporary.

We were already two weeks into September, and my own classes would start at the end of the month. If my interview went well tomorrow, there was a chance I’d have my foot in the door at JPL sooner rather than later and my final year of grad school would be back on track.

I wasn’t nearly as excited as I should have been, but George didn’t need to know that. And he certainly didn’t need to know I was desperately infatuated with his brother. It was better if he assumed Jake was in the picture. I still looked like an idiot, but at least Jake wasn’t related to him.