Down by Contact (The Barons 2)

Adrián let me push him to the side, once again flinging himself dramatically. The guy was the biggest joker I’d ever met, and that was saying something, since I usually joked a lot. He swatted my ass as I jogged up to the master bathroom to shower. I wasn’t surprised when he joined me and coaxed me into a sloppy make-out session and mutual jerk while the water beat down on us from three sides.

As we walked from his building to the Center, I kept thinking this was going to be the best three weeks of my life. Okay, maybe not my life. But of my post-NFL signing adulthood. I’d had sex with a ton of guys since my teenage years, but none of them had had this effect on me. Not even Gavin or Marcus, or my lingering worries about how I was gonna deal with things once we went back to our teams, could bring me down.

If I wanted to close my eyes to complications and walk on sunshine for the next month or so, then that was my problem. And I was going to have a fuckton of sex in the process.

The number of looks we exchanged, and the times we deliberately bumped each other, on the way to the Center, was probably in the thousands. We had to be stopped. Even the mailperson could probably tell we were banging.

“All right. Be cool and—”

The fast-falling footsteps coming up beside us drew my attention first. I jerked to the side, startled, and lowered my face out of reflex. The photog kept snapping pictures of me, and then both of us, without missing a beat.

“Damn, man, you can’t let us get inside the building?”

The photographer didn’t respond. He apparently was all business—so not a pap. Not TMZ. He took several more pictures and returned to where ever he’d come from.

“That was random. They haven’t been that on it in a while.”

“Uh, yeah, apparently they all got the fucking memo to be on it.”

I stopped looking after the skinny-looking ferret dude to glance in the direction of the Center. There was a circus waiting for us by the door.

Adrián

They knew.

Everyone knew.

And I knew as soon as I saw the gang of photogs and journalists from gossip blogs waiting by the Center. They’d shown up here and there over the past several weeks, but usually when there was a specific reason for them to be clustered. Like our first few days, or a scrimmage. The only reason they’d be here right now was if they knew about us.

“Fuck.” My heart had stopped but now it galloped ahead of us. “Oh my God.”

Simeon dropped a large hand on my shoulder and steered me forward.

“Adrián! Tell us how it happened! Couldn’t resist the Boudreaux charm?”

“Bravo, are you gay or bi?”

“Do you think your team will accept you back into the locker room?”

“Was the fight just a way to throw everyone off your relation—”

The shouted questions were muffled by the door once Simeon shoved me inside the Center and kicked it shut. His hand was still on my shoulder, and it was the only thing bringing me comfort. Strong, reassuring, and warm. Just like him and every moment we’d shared since the night of the storm.

“Fuck.”

“Adrián, hush.”

I blinked away the camera flashes and looked around slowly, refamiliarizing myself with the inside of the Center. It’d already been unpacked and put back to rights since reopening this morning. I tried to think about that, and how shitty we were for banging our way through this process instead of offering a hand, but the questions rang in my ear again.

“They know.”

“Adrián, I said to shut up.”

Simeon wrenched me around, forcing me to face the entrance to the rec room. Brayden was framed in the doorway, his face in his hands and shoulders shaking as Sheila consoled him. It was all the confirmation I needed that yes, he’d seen us. And yes, he’d done something to expose us to the world.

The previous night, I’d woken up off and on while wondering whether he’d spend this afternoon dropping innuendos or teasing us. I’d expected to be angry, but right now I felt nothing but resignation and fear. Genuine fucking fear.

Because my team was going to make my life a living hell.

“Brayden,” Simeon said quietly. “Are you okay?”

A louder sob ripped out of the kid at the sound of Simeon’s voice. Sheila pulled him closer, rubbing his back and glancing over at us with a frown etched into her lovely face.

“I’m sorry,” he wailed. “I didn’t think this would happen!”

Simeon moved towards him, but I was rooted to the spot. Torn between this brokenhearted kid whose body was literally shaking due to the strength of his sobs and the sound of hostile and hideously amused questions being shouted at my back.