Blue eyes squint through glasses—apparently, it’s time for a checkup—and he studies Baird’s social media profile. The guy plays for the Miami Pirates now but still has a picture of himself in a cowboy hat and on horseback as his profile picture. I guess you can take the cowboy out of Texas, but you can’t take Texas out of the cowboy. “Oh, yeah. Just for one season, I think. Good guy. Had no idea he was queer.”
Baird had been in the closet until someone leaked photos of him and his two boyfriends—also Pirates players—to the press. They’d been at the club here in LA after a game one night, the same place where some of our blackmail pictures had been taken. We were lucky not to have been outed at the same time as them—despite us not being a couple at the time.
“I should check in with him,” Tahegin muses aloud.
“He’s in Aleks’ allies Facebook group.”
“Man, he has got to find a better name for it.”
I agree, then snuggle closer to him on the couch. It’s crazy to think that the person I was when I first made the team no longer exists. Old me shunned touch, had never cuddled, and—biggest change of all—thought he only liked women. Of course, I still scowl; it is my signature look, after all. I just smile and laugh now, too.
Tahegin laughs at something on his phone, and a second later, mine pings with a notification.
“Did you just send me something when we are literally sitting right beside each other?”
“Um, duh? Now you can save it if you like it.”
“Hmph.”
The video does make me chuckle, much to Tahegin’s pleasure, and we sit in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s company. With the middle house on the market, we’re back at Tahegin’s place. The laundry from the chair is gone, and the shoes he left in the middle of the floor yesterday have been picked up. All is back to the way it should be.
“Is there something on my face?” he asks, feeling my eyes on him.
“Nope.”
The corner of his lip twitches upward in a crooked smile. “You’re staring.”
“Yup.”
“Why?”
Just thinking that if this is all the rest of my life is, I’ll be perfectly happy with it. Wow, that sounds really sappy. “Uh—” I’m saved from having to admit my abrading thoughts by a phone ringing.
Tahegin’s brows raise in surprise, and he answers the call on speakerphone. “Vikki?”
“How are my two favorite clients?” she singsongs, way too happy to be working this late at night.
“You fired me,” he deadpans.
“Aaand now I have rehired you! Congrats! Anyway, have you two heard the news?”
“What news?”
“The owner’s association met with the league about you two lovebirds, and they have decided to instate a new rule banning players in a relationship from taking the field at the same time as each other during a game, no matter if they’re on the same team or opposite.”
Tahegin and I exchange shocked glances. Having a new rule issued so quickly because of us? Yikes. Of course, there have been people kicking up dust about us going head-to-head last season—especially in a game as important as the Super Bowl—but to single out our relationship over best friends or brothers competing against each other is ridiculous. Not to mention, this will keep more players in the closet, too scared to disclose their sexuality or live freely and openly for fear of being targeted by this rule. No one knows what goes on behind closed doors, but one ill-timed picture during a game can make any two players look suspicious. Every player will be accused of sleeping with any player he happens to slap on the ass.
It won’t be fair.
“They can’t do that.”
“They can, and they did,” she hums.
My phone dings with a notification—a message from Kit.
Baby Boy: We got your back
I immediately type back.
Me: We?
Ding!
One new friend request: Tucker Baird
Then, several notifications follow that one, all at once.
New friend requests:
Nathaniel Conroy
Kane Kennedy
Laken Berry
Dillon McCay
Ezekiel Aleks invited you to join the group: Allied Players Association
