I listened to some music, took a catnap, and before I knew it, we were pulling back up at the KMU campus.
As we arrived, I pulled out my phone, shooting a text to my brother.
>>Brody: Back home safe. We fucking creamed ‘em, dude. Tonight was awesome.
>>Roman: See? I knew you were worrying for no reason last week.
>>Brody: Lol. I’m so glad I’m playing well again.
>>Roman: Tomorrow I’ll buy you lunch to celebrate. Good shit, bro. Love you.
>>Brody: Love you, too.
He was probably just beginning his overnight security shift. I usually let Roman know how I was feeling after a game.
And it was a good thing he’d offered lunch instead of dinner, because Logan and I had set up a study date for tomorrow afternoon. If I couldn’t figure out how the hell to make my brain remember historical facts, I at least hoped that some tutoring would help.
Before slipping my phone back into my pocket, I decided on a whim to text Logan, too. Over the past week, we’d texted a couple times about random apartment stuff, little boring logistical texts that I had no reason to get excited over. But I’d still been a little happy every time I saw his name light up my screen. Logan was cute as hell, and his awkward shyness only made him more adorable.
Hell, if he’d been some guy in a club instead of my housemate, I would have hit on him by now. No doubt about it. But I was pretty sure if I made any moves, Logan would run for the hills faster than a deer in the woods.
Which, of course, only made me crave him even more.
And it was nice hanging out with someone so smart. It kind of made me feel like anything was possible. Which was something I hadn’t felt in a long, long time.
I pulled up our texts and shot one off to him.
>>Brody: My football curse is lifted. Maybe my American History curse can be broken this week, too.
His name lit up my screen a couple of minutes later.
>>Logan: I saw that the Wolves won. Congrats. That touchdown you made at the end was pretty cool.
>>Brody: Wait, you watched the game?
Something flared in my chest.
So Roomie had been watching me. Something about that made me very, very happy.
“So where are we going?” Vance asked me, hitting me on the shoulder as everybody stood up to start piling out of the bus. I slid my phone into my pocket.
“I need a burger,” Mike said from behind Vance.
“Sounds fantastic,” I added.
“We are definitely going to grab food, but we’ve got to celebrate tonight, boys,” Vance said.
I still couldn’t believe that Logan had apparently been watching the game. The guy didn’t have a clue how football worked and I was certain he didn’t really give a shit about it, either. But he’d tuned in, to see me. My own mom didn’t even watch most of my games. Knowing that Logan had been watching made me feel even lighter than I had before.
“Hell yeah, we have to celebrate,” I said.
The night air was almost cold now, after a long bus ride had given me time to settle after the game. It was sweater weather. Hell, it was almost coat weather.
“Jimmy’s Bar? Three Missiles? Where are we headed?” Vance asked.
Jimmy’s Bar and Three Missiles were a couple of our usual hangs. If we went to either of those, we were guaranteed to be around the rest of the football team, and in for a very rowdy night.
“What about that place you took us a couple of weeks ago, Bryant?” Mike asked me.
“Red’s Tavern?” I asked. “I’m not going to make you guys go back there.”
“Dude, it was fun as hell,” Vance said. “When I put on Def Leppard, that cowboy bartender hopped up on the bar. God, it was hilarious.”
“It was fucking hot,” I clarified.
Red’s Tavern was awesome, and the fact that the owner got up and danced on the bartop when Pour Some Sugar On Me played was just the icing on the cake.
Vance laughed. “Definitely not what gets my dick hard, but good for you, Bryant,” he said. “Hell, maybe if we go back there you can find some cute guy to bring home tonight.”
“You sure you guys really wouldn’t mind going back to Red’s?” I asked.
Vance and Mike had always seemed perfectly cool with me being gay. They were straight, but they hadn’t batted an eye when they found out I was into dudes, and their support of gay rights was all I could ask for from two of my best friends on the team.
But they were still straight guys. I didn’t usually lug them around when I went to bars like Red’s Tavern, which was primarily a gay bar.
“It was really fun,” Mike said, shrugging a shoulder. “Fuck yeah, let’s go there.”