Even when people were being nice online—saying my past boyfriends had been hot—it had still felt invasive. But when certain homophobic college football fans had written comments and posts about them, it could become a cruel, humiliating disaster.
“We’re just roommates,” Logan said, piping up as I faltered. “I knew I had to come out to at least one game of his if I wanted any chance at understanding football.” I surged with pride as he diffused the situation, handling a social situation when for once, I couldn’t at all.
“Well, we will leave you guys to it, then,” one of the guys said, his face relaxing a little. “You really did play great tonight, though, Bryant. Here is my number if you ever do want to hook up.”
He passed me a little piece of paper with a number scrawled on it, and I graciously put it in my pocket.
“And you’re sure you’re gay? Not even a little into women?” the girl asked, grinning. “I just have to check. You know. For the sake of science.”
I chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint,” I said.
She nodded. “You two have fun,” she said to me and Logan, which for some reason got my chest fluttering all over again.
Being mistaken for a couple made me panic, sure.
But also, somewhere deeper down, it stirred a desire in me that had long since been hidden away.
“Thank you, Brody Bryant,” one of the guys said as they waved and walked away. “For everything you do!”
I turned back to Logan, who was still looking absolutely dwarfed by the jersey I’d given him to wear. He’d wrapped a dark green scarf around his neck and put an oversized cardigan over it, and it looked so damn cute. I was ready to get my hands under that jersey. I wanted to pick him up and press a kiss to his lips, to get out all of my post-win energy by showing him just how happy I was that he’d come to the game.
But doing that, right here, even after the game, was too much of a risk. There was no chance I wanted some photographer or kid with a smartphone to snap a picture of it and have gossip blogs chattering about who Logan was tomorrow.
“Thank you,” I told him. “So fucking much.”
“Did I do okay?” he asked. “I had no clue how to handle that.”
“You handled it perfectly,” I said. “Certainly better than me.”
He gave me a lopsided grin. “You seemed like you were melting down a little.”
“I was not,” I protested.
“It was kind of cute, Brody,” he said quietly.
God. There it was again. That same feeling deep in my chest, like Logan was making himself at home in my heart. This time, it was definitely accompanied by a twitch in my dick.
“I like it when you call me cute,” I said. We were alone now, and being able to say that to him felt like I was getting away with something.
Fuck, he looked so goddamn good right now. Maybe I could just steal Logan away and we could go back to the house. Crawl in bed together again. Lose the crowds and our clothes and forget about everything but each other.
He was changing me.
Or, really, he was making me feel like I was returning to a home I’d long forgotten. A couple of years ago, I had tried to embrace the casual hookup life. I’d tried to make it my lifestyle, even though it wouldn’t have been my first choice. So I had fun with it. It had been novel. Exciting.
Now, I realized it was a much bigger thrill to secretly have this—to get to be affectionate and flirty with Logan.
The thought scared the shit out of me. I’d been single and casual for so long that it was my default mode now. I was worried about Logan’s privacy, of course. But I was also scared that I’d hurt him somehow. Or maybe just scared that I’d forgotten a whole part of myself, cut it out and cast it away after too much heartbreak in the past.
Christ, I needed to fucking relax. I pulled in a big gulp of cold air.
We weren’t going back to the house.
We were partying tonight.
“Okay. Let’s go. I hope you’re ready for the frat party experience,” I told Logan as I led him out of the stadium toward the exit. I kept a few paces ahead of him, shoving my hands into the front of my hoodie.
“I’m going to admit something to you that’s probably not very surprising,” he said. “I’ve never been to a real college party. At least not a frat party. Dani dragged me to something a little smaller.”
“Did you have fun at that party?”
“God, no,” he said.
I snorted. “Well, tonight will be better. We know how to have a good time.”
“If you find me alone in the corner of the backyard petting a cat, don’t be surprised,” Logan said. “That’s where I was by the end of the night at the last party.”