The End Zone (Atlanta Lightning 2)

“You’re being quiet. What’s up?”

One thing about West, he paid attention. He picked and chose whom he let get close to him. He was protective of his heart and feelings, but when you were one of those people special to him, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for you. His empathy was why he’d been there for Anson before they’d become friends, and before he’d fallen in love with him. It was also one of the reasons he’d gone into politics, though he’d realized that wasn’t the best way to do it. West loved deeply, and I felt lucky to be one of the people he’d chosen to give that love to. Which made me want to talk with him about Darren even more because…because I liked Darren. Too much. Because I was scared.

“Nothing’s wrong.” And it wasn’t, not really.

We finished eating, and West insisted on paying. Then he drove us back to their place. As soon as we cleared the gate, I noticed a familiar Aston Martin in the driveway.

“Darren’s here,” West said. “I didn’t know he was coming over. He rarely drives the Aston. It’s fucking gorgeous, isn’t it?”

I tried to bite back my grin. Of course the show-off had to go and drive the car he knew I loved, especially when apparently, that wasn’t typical of him. “Yeah, it’s beautiful. I saw it when you guys were on your honeymoon.” I drove the damn thing.

West parked, and we got out. The second we stepped into the foyer, I heard Anson yell, “Fucking bastard!”

West looked at me. “Video games.”

“I hear that.”

“They’re obsessed.”

“You just don’t like them because you rarely win!” Anson called from the living room. I had no idea how he’d heard us because we hadn’t spoken that loud, but he clearly had some kind of sixth sense for West.

We went to join them. Darren was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a black Lightning T-shirt. The motherfucker. He’d probably never noticed what gray sweats did to a man, but I did, and he was definitely trying to kill me.

“Hey, man. What’s up?” Anson nodded at me.

“Not much. Your husband fed me before coming home.”

Anson’s gaze was already back on the TV screen. “Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck!”

They were playing football, and Darren’s player had just made a touchdown. Darren shoved to his feet, arms in the air. “And that, gentlemen, is how shit gets done.” He looked at me and winked. “Fancy seeing you here. Last time you dragged me to Anson’s, you forced me to toilet paper my friend’s house.”

“Fuck you. I’m the one who didn’t want to do it. Come on, Jeremy. Have some fun, Jeremy. I’m twelve years old at heart, Jeremy. You’re the coolest guy I’ve ever met and I want to show off for you, Jeremy.”

“Um, none of that shit came out of my mouth.”

“Yep, sure. Okay. Whatever you say.”

Darren grinned at me, making heat flood my belly.

Not good. Not good at all.

“You wanna play or what?” he asked.

“Are you kicking me off my own game in my own house?” Anson teased.

“Yes.”

“Game on,” I told Darren. “Unlike West, I don’t suck.”

“Oh, yes you do. Though not quite as spectacularly as me.” West waggled his eyebrows at Anson. “Speaking of…since they’re busy, you wanna go and fool around?”

Anson walked over and wrapped his arms around West’s waist. “Be good.”

“Ah, come on, Bashful. Come play with me. They have a game, and we can have our own.”

“Um…they’re not talking about the same thing we are, are they?” Darren’s voice was a little huskier, though I wasn’t sure anyone else would notice.

“West was definitely talking about sucking in a different way.” The second I said it, that night on the phone flashed through my head—me talking him through a blowjob, the two of us jerking off…

Darren cleared his throat. When I glanced his way, he was looking everywhere except at me. “Hey, you guys have all night and then every day for the rest of your lives for that shit. Pay attention to me. I require a lot of it. Like from all three of you. Basically, you should all dote on me the whole time I’m here.”

Anson pulled away from West. “Do you know my husband? He loves all the attention.”

It was cute how often they referred to each other as husband. Thinking about how much they loved each other made my heart squeeze every single time.

“I do not,” West answered.

Everyone laughed except West. He held up his middle finger to all of us, clearly trying to bite back a smile. “I hate you all.”

“Be quiet so I can beat a football player at his own game,” I told him.

“You wish,” Darren answered.

We sat on the couch beside each other and started a new game, with Anson and West watching.

Somehow, all the good juju in the world was raining down on me or something, because the next person jumping in the air with their arms raised was me. “Hell yeah! What’s up now, Mr. Professional Football Player?”