“An agent for the Treasures called me earlier,” I blurt. “They want to sign me.”
Hendrix shoots up, disturbing my comfortable position, but the smile he gives me is worth it. “The LA Treasures? As in, Los Angeles. As in, you get to stay here—”
“With you,” I add, matching his grin with one of my own. The celebratory kiss we share is all smiles and teeth. His hand cups my face, thumb caressing beneath my eye.
“Wait.” He pulls away but keeps me close. “How . . .”
“What?” I ask when he trails off.
Sitting up completely, Hendrix fumbles along the nightstand, and the glow of both our phones illuminates the room. I reach over to flick the light on the lamp, fully brightening everything. When I turn back, Hendrix is comparing two lists on our phones.
“What is it?” My chin lands on his shoulder as I watch him scroll through what looks like play schedules for the season.
He sighs, a sound I never feel good about when it comes from him. “The Rubies and the Treasures share a stadium for games, right?”
I nod.
“Which means—” He shows me the phones, each team’s schedule for this year pulled up. “—when one of us has a home game, the other will be out of town. Every week.”
Right. Because the two teams can’t both play in the same stadium at the same time. But still—
I push the phones away and turn Hendrix’s head to face me. “Okay, our games will be in different cities. So what? Every other day of the week, we will be in the same city. I can drive to your place, or you can come to mine . . .” Sweeping a few locks of blond hair from his eyes, I lower my voice, thankful my blush isn’t easy to spot through my bronze cheeks. “Or . . . we can find a place halfway between the two practice facilities . . . together.”
“T . . .” His hand catches mine, pulling it to his chest, holding it there, and he sighs that sigh I really don’t want to hear. “We can’t.”
“We can, actually.”
Hendrix shakes his head, giving me a sad smile. “Tahegin, come on.”
“Nate Conroy and Kane Kennedy lived together for years.” Maybe bringing the two Miami players into this argument isn’t a great idea because—
“Every tabloid in Miami had paparazzi following those guys twenty-four seven because they all swore the two of them were dating. It was a huge scandal, and those guys are on the same team.”
“Speaking of same team, did you see that Conroy came out, too? Turns out, they were both queer.” I rub my chin, pondering. “I wonder if they were together, after all. I know Kennedy is dating that kicker now, but before that. What do you think?”
“I think,” Hendrix begins, carefully pulling my hand from my face. He clasps both of mine in his and holds them between us. “It would be different if we never had to face off on the field, but we will. We have a preseason game against each other and one during the regular season. I’m already going to have a hard time treating you like every other cornerback in the league; the public doesn’t need to know that as well. They would pick apart every move we make on the field.”
My heart sinks as I realize how true his words are.
He tips my head up using our entwined hands. “Hey, we’ll work something out, okay? I want to do this with you. We just have to be careful about it. Maybe I can get a place halfway between. My apartment is a little small for us anyway.”
I roll my eyes because his apartment is in no way small. I’m thankful for his attempt to be casual about moving for our relationship, though.
“Tahegin?” Hendrix whispers once we lay together in the dark once more.
“Yeah?” I respond just as softly.
“We can do this, right? We can face each other on the field.”
“Brothers do it all the time.”
Neither of us brings up the fact that brothers are different than lovers. Brothers grow up trying to hurt each other, trying to be better than each other. With siblings, there is always competition and rivalry, on or off the field.
With us, things are different. We don’t want to risk hurting one another. We don’t want to be the reason the other doesn’t get that one-hundred-yard game or season-record interception. We want the other to succeed more than we do ourselves.
Our professional lives are about to be put to the ultimate test.
And it is our own damn fault.
CHAPTER 29
HENDRIX AVERY
“Tahegin, I don’t know if this is a good idea.”
My boyfriend stands in the doorway, perfect teeth worrying his plump bottom lip.
God, I always want to kiss him when he does that.
“Please. I need help.”
How am I supposed to say no when he has those baby blues all big and doe-like? Seriously, Tahegin has the best puppy dog look I have ever seen, and I grew up with damaged and manipulative foster kids.
I haven’t seen much of him since he signed with the Treasures a little over a week ago. I’ve yet to look for a place between the two teams’ practice facilities, so Tahegin has been spending most nights in a hotel near the Treasures’ instead of driving an hour and a half there and back every day. We talk on the phone each night before bed, but our coaches have been busting both our asses in preparation for our game tomorrow—the first of the preseason.
The game where our two teams will go head-to-head.
All thoughts of football fall away as Tahegin’s tongue peeks out, prodding at his tender bottom lip and leaving behind a glossy coat across the rosy-pink surface. It hits me that I haven’t seen him since the day after my birthday dinner, and fuck have I missed him.
