But then someone coughed behind us, and he came to his senses and looked around as if remembering we were out in public. That also helped remind me that Brady Donovan was only just figuring out his sexuality and needed the space to do it.
“So, I’ll see you at my party?” he asked as we parted ways near the park entrance.
I smiled. “A deal’s a deal.”
15
Brady
Our small gathering consisted of a couple dozen friends who were either in the kitchen near the drinks or outside, where Hollister had made a bonfire. It was fun, and Hollister had been right about blowing off steam, but as I sat at the table, playing a game of quarters, I couldn’t stop looking at the front window, wondering when Kellan was going to show.
When he finally swept through the door with Jasmine, I blew out a breath. Not that I was worried—I trusted he’d keep his word. In fact, everything was fine between us during this week’s practice and subsequent game. It was almost like old times, except for the way he’d flush when he’d catch me watching him.
Seeing him again now, outside the baseball field, I felt relief alongside butterflies beating their wings in my stomach. Having the whole team here didn’t help, but at least a party was informal, and the coaches were nowhere to be found.
His eyes brightened when he spotted me, and even though boundaries had been established the other night at the park, it was that sort of reaction that kept me on the hook. I wished things could be simpler. That his dad wasn’t the coach, and that I was beyond the fear of coming out to my teammates and family. But for now, I’d take the little things. Like having Kellan at my apartment for my birthday.
“Kiddie Crawford made it,” Maclain said from across the table, and I clenched my teeth.
Before I could open my mouth to say something, Hollister knocked his elbow into me. “What the hell?” I muttered.
“You’re so uptight where he’s concerned,” he hissed. “Kellan can hold his own.”
I knew he was right, and in the next moment, Kellan proved it by not backing down.
“Listen, Mini Maclain, if we’re gonna trade barbs, you gotta come up with something better.”
“Mini what?” Maclain scoffed in disbelief.
“Isn’t that your name?” Kellan held up his thumb and forefinger to indicate something tiny. “Microscopic, remember?”
“I’ll show you microscopic,” he said, palming his zipper, and the other players at the table groaned.
“Not this shit again,” our second baseman grumbled.
“Keep it in your pants,” Jasmine said. “If someone wants to see your goods, they’ll ask.”
“And even when they don’t, your own hand will always do the trick,” Girard added, and everyone cracked up.
For the first time, Maclain had no retort. His cheeks flushed pink, and he looked away, mumbling something. Well, that was interesting. Maybe he was finally learning when to shut his trap. Or maybe Jasmine being witness to that exchange had him showing a rare case of humility.
“Anyway, thanks for inviting me,” Kellan said, pulling something from his backpack and handing it to me. “We needed to stop and get you some celery for your birthday.”
I grinned, making a show of dramatically opening the bag. “So kind! Thank you.” I crunched down on the vegetable. “I’ll be sure to pass some around. It goes well with beer.”
He smirked as Jasmine tugged on his arm, leading him toward the small keg in the kitchen. I knew it was only a silly gag gift, but I couldn’t help smiling to myself like some goof, and I needed to cut it out because Hollister was eyeing me carefully.
We played another round of quarters, new arrivals joining in and eventually taking our place. I was trying to be cool as my gaze searched the room to see where Kellan had gone and who he was talking to, like I was his damned chaperone. But he was nowhere to be found.
After filling my Solo cup with beer and making small talk with a couple of girls standing near the tap, I wandered outside to the bonfire.
I sidled up to Kellan, who was standing near the flames as if mesmerized by them. “Doing okay?”
“Yeah,” he replied, throwing me a cursory glance. “It feels good to kick back. Besides, the only time I’ve ever been to your place was when I had to drop off those fliers for our fundraiser, remember?”
I nodded. Oh, I remembered, all right. I’d answered the door from a nap, with bed head and wearing only a pair of sweats. He’d shoved the stack at me, mumbled something about passing them out around campus, then hightailed it to the car, where the assistant coach was waiting.
Right then Jasmine threw her head back and laughed at something Maclain said.
“Guess they’re not really nemeses after all,” I remarked.