Illegal Contact (The Barons 1)

“Well, well,” she said. “Look at you—knowing all the insider shit.”

I rolled my eyes. My real theory was that they’d bonded after identifying each other as being in the queer family, and had gravitated to each other. But I couldn’t say that. Lying by omission wasn’t my thing, but there was no other option. Until Gavin and Simeon came out on their own, their gay cats would stay in my handy rainbow bag. Or at least that was the plan.

Too bad Simeon was completely incapable of finding some chill when it came to greeting people. When practice was over and the other players were trudging over to the fans with like zero enthusiasm, Simeon shaded his eyes and scanned the crowd. For me.

“Clark!”

Jasmine looked at me so fast, her curly hair slapped me in the face. “Is he talking to you?”

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

“Why . . .”

I shook my head. “Long story. Kinda. I’ll tell you on the way back.”

Simeon jogged over, helmet off and curly hair bouncing in the wind. His deep russet skin was flushed from exertion and the sun, and I could practically feel the impending swoons and fainting spells of the preteens nearby.

He beamed up at me from the turf. “So, how’d I do?”

“You were passable,” I said.

Simeon sucked his teeth. “Stop playing. You know you were dazzled by my awesomeness.”

“Meh. I was more dazzled by Marcus.”

“Aw. So hurtful, Clark. Daggers in my heart!”

Jasmine looked between Simeon and me with shock and awe written all over her face. I didn’t blame her. If someone had told me a week ago that I’d be trading jokes with Simeon Boudreaux, I’d have laughed in their face. Let alone jokes that included a distinctly flirtatious edge to them. The thought sobered me, and I cleared my throat.

“Do you think Marcus could come over and sign something?”

Simeon’s eyebrows flew up. “For you? You have merch?”

“Well, yeah, for my dad. But also my friend Jasmine.” I nodded at her. “She’s a huge fan.”

Simeon glanced at Jasmine, smiling politely. “Sure. No prob. Lemme get him.”

Once Simeon had jogged away again, I felt everyone in the vicinity staring at me. Likely wondering how this nondescript guy with glasses knew a famous football player. And probably wondering if me standing near them would guarantee his return, and some damn autographs. I was betting so. Simeon was known for his fan service.

“This is surreal,” Jasmine said. “How did you suddenly become so fucking cool?”

“I dunno. I’m just sort of a big deal I guess.”

She shoved my shoulder, laughing.

Simeon returned with Marcus, striding up to Jasmine with a smile that grew the closer he got, and I tried not to feel self-conscious when Simeon dragged me over the barrier to stand with him on the turf. Everyone, including photographers, was watching—and he was being really fucking homoerotic with me. Like, gay vibes being thrown all over the place. But heterosexual people never noticed those things. They found excuses for them. Close bros. Gal pals. Long lost family members. Anything but queerness.

“You probably shouldn’t be so flirtatious.”

Simeon tossed a ball in the air and caught it. “Why not? So Gavin doesn’t get mad?”

“No. Because there’s twenty million people watching.” I frowned. “Why would Gavin get mad?”

“He told me to leave you alone. Said he didn’t want me sexually harassing his staff.” Simeon must have caught my slight frown because he added, “He didn’t actually call you staff, boo.”

“It’s fine. That’s what I am.”

“Uh-huh. Stop acting like you don’t ogle his fine ass. Don’t get me wrong—me and G are strictly platonic, but my boy is fine as fuck. And his dick is serious.”

“Why do you know what his dick—” Simeon guffawed, and I rolled my eyes at myself. “Right. Locker rooms.”

“Yep.” He tossed the ball in the air again. “Anyways, he told me not to mess with you until you weren’t his employee no more. Besides, I’m mostly just having fun. I flirt with everyone. No offense.”

“None taken,” I said, laughing. “Can I ask how you and Gavin became such good friends?”

“Sure.” Simeon looked over my shoulder and enthusiastically waved at his fans. “Then I gotta go sign some shit. And you should probably save your friend from Marcus. He’s all up in that.”

“Her name is Jasmine.”

Simeon rolled his eyes. “It’s just words.”

“Words that are dehumanizing.” I gave him a pointed stare. “So, how’d you become friends?”

“Training camp. He and Marcus were both first-round draft picks, and I’d just left the Predators. Best decision of my life.” Simeon’s pleasant face got sneery whenever he said the other team’s name. I’d never seen such obvious rivalry, although he seemed to have a personal stake in it. “He saw me staring at his dick and we almost fucked around, but it was too weird. Banging a teammate ain’t a good plan, you know? We became boys instead. I listened to him talk about how much he hated the media and the verbally abusive coaches while trying to make his ass realize he has legit anger probs, and he kept me out of trouble when we went out to party.”