The Rainbow Clause

by Beth Bolden

  Nick cried then, and he was fairly certain Colin was crying, too. They stayed there like that for long, drawn out minutes, just holding onto each other.

  “You warned me so many times,” Colin finally said.

  “I never wanted to be right,” was all Nick could say.

  “Some people are just assholes,” Colin said with finality. “And I know you’ve been struggling too and not telling me. This hasn’t been easy for you either.”

  “Don’t go working yourself up about how I’m doing. I’m fine. I’m more worried about you.”

  “Actually,” Colin said. “I’m better than I thought I’d be. I mean, it was just as horrible as I’d ever imagined. But that was probably the worst it’ll ever be. I can’t imagine anything worse, anyway. And now I won’t be wondering what it might be like. I’ve already had it happen, and I got through it, and I came home to you.”

  Nick choked on a sob and gripped Colin’s shoulders harder. “You’re too good.”

  “No, I’m not,” Colin said wryly.

  “No, you are. You believe in the best in people. Most of the time, it’s my job to look for the worst, whose comeback is going to fail. Who’s a bust in their league. So much focus on the negative. It makes us such an improbable match.”

  “Are you breaking up with me? If you are, can you just...I don’t know...not do it tonight?”

  Nick couldn’t help but laugh a little through his tears. “Hell, no. I’m saying it’s not always going to be easy.”

  “Easy? You think I’ve ever wanted things easy? It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

  “I know you pretty well.”

  “I want you because I love you,” Colin’s voice rang with certainty. The same certainty that Nick remembered hearing so many years ago at a press conference after Colin’s very first start at quarterback in college. He’d been so sure that even though he’d had a rough day on the field, the next would be better. “I don’t care if it’s easy or it’s hard or it’s something the entire world hates. It’s you and me, I hope for a very long time.”

  It might not have been as easy for someone else, someone who hadn’t made such a study of Colin’s career, but Nick knew that voice, knew that bone-deep vein of absolutism that ran through Colin. Knew what he would do to make his promises a reality. And so it was the easiest thing Nick had ever done to believe.

  It had been many, many years since he’d been able to put aside every apprehension and trust in the unshakeable. And he’d never been able to do it with a lover; he’d always held back, a tiny part of him waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Nick finally understood that with Colin, it never would. It didn’t matter how many fellow players were dicks. It didn’t matter what Nick did for a living. It didn’t matter how many covers of People they ended up on. “You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said. “A very long time or forever, whichever comes first.”

  Three months later

  Miami was still stupidly hot.

  Nick stood at the curb at Arrivals and this time wasn’t surprised to see Colin’s black Audi pull up. He’d nearly expected to see it. Would secretly have been disappointed if it hadn’t shown. Still, that didn’t mean he needed to let his boyfriend get away with sneaking off to pick up him when he had a perfectly good PA to do stuff like fetching people from the airport.

  Which is what he said when he opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. Not before giving Colin a good long kiss, though, resulting in more than one impatient honk from the cars waiting behind them.

  “But you’re not just anyone,” Colin retorted with the cutest grin on his face as they pulled onto the freeway. “You’re my boyfriend. Can’t lump you in with the rest of the world.”

  Nick rolled his eyes, because the notion of Colin ever doing that was ridiculous. Six months into their relationship, Colin still hadn’t gotten over the thrill of finding someone to love who loved him back. Ninety-nine percent of the time, it was adorable as hell, because anything that made Colin sappy, emotional and/or sentimental – especially when it was over him – was definitely okay by Nick.

  Then there was the remaining one percent, which were almost always things that Nick teased Colin for relentlessly.

  “Someday,” Nick said, “you’re actually going to act like an NFL quarterback.”

  Colin’s grin could have lit a flotilla of solar panels for a hundred years. “I thought you liked that I don’t.” He pasted on a pretend little pout that both of them knew wouldn’t fool Nick for a second.

  Whenever Nick thought about how preposterously in love Colin was, he couldn’t help but think about how head over heels he was, too. He reached over and stroked Colin’s hand with his thumb. He’d only been gone for a few days, but they had still seemed interminable. “I love that you don’t,” he admitted. “I love you.”

  “I missed you,” Colin exhaled in the quiet as he pulled off the main highway, taking the exit that led to what had initially been his own little slice of private heaven. Now it was their little slice of private heaven. Every time Nick had to leave, it got harder, even when it was never for very long.

  Unfortunately there was only so much freelance journalism work Nick could do from a private island off Miami’s coast. At some point, he always had to hop on a plane and fly away to get his hands dirty.

  “I know I sent you about a million texts,” Colin continued, a tinge of self-consciousness in his voice now. “I hope I didn’t bother you too much while you were working.”

  Nick of a year ago probably would have made a sarcastic quip, burying deep the truth of how he’d felt every time his phone had vibrated in his pocket. Not even for any sort of good reason, either. Just because he’d been caught up in a web of semi-jaded cynicism.

  Since meeting Colin, Nick had learned to care less about that carefully cultivated front and more about what lay behind it. At first, he’d felt naked and exposed, but as he got used to it, he realized how much happier he was, now that he allowed himself to really wallow in his feelings instead of always trying to hide them.

  “You didn’t bother me,” he said with a little chuckle. “In fact, I loved reading each one, even though I couldn’t always respond. Aaron Rodgers thinks we’re pretty cute, by the way.”

  “Could you convince him to throw less spectacularly against the Piranhas in week twelve?” Colin asked.

  “Unfortunately, we’re not that cute. At least not you, anyway.”

  “Asshole,” Colin accused playfully.

  “Me or Aaron?”

  “Like I’d ever malign Aaron Rodgers that way.” Colin pulled up the driveway and turned off the car, getting out before Nick could even throw out a decent comeback.

  Not that there really was a decent comeback. Aaron Rodgers being Aaron Rodgers, after all.

  Colin had popped the trunk and was in the process of retrieving Nick’s bag. Nick took in the scene in a second. Conscientious and fucking adorably hot boyfriend that he hadn’t seen in days. Check. Smoking fast car. Check. Complete privacy. Check.

  It wasn’t even really a decision to pin Colin to the bumper and wrap himself around Colin like he was his favorite tree.

  “You’re my favorite tree,” Nick murmured as he reached up to kiss him.

  The sweet pressure of Colin’s mouth roared back into Nick’s brain, reminding him of everything he’d lost out on while he’d been away. Their lips met and caught, again and again, sliding together without missing a single beat. There was a constancy and a certainty that Nick had with Colin that he’d never had with anyone else before, and it was easy to lose himself in the idea that what they’d begun to build together was permanent and unshakeable.

  Of course, forever didn’t have to be boring or predictable, either.

  Nick caught Colin’s gasp as his hands made quick work of his pants and then his boxer briefs, shoving them to his knees as Nick sank to his. The concrete might be hard and a little uncomfortable, but it was hard to remember when Colin’s dick wa
s hard and a little wet at the tip, mesmerizingly close.

  Colin’s breath was uneven and rushed as Nick ran his tongue up the underside, pausing to curl around the pulsing head. “You...you,” Colin exhaled shakily.

  Nick didn’t pause, didn’t even hesitate at Colin’s breathless litany of variations of his name, just sucked him down, pushing himself because even five days was too many days without this dick in his life.

  Hands sliding down into his hair, Colin began to pump his hips restlessly and Nick went still and soft, letting him. A swear word wrenched itself out of Colin’s throat.

  It felt so good like this, even with gravel digging into his knees, that Nick had to palm himself through his jeans, rubbing mindlessly against the swamping pleasure.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Colin begged, even more mindless as he thrust into Nick’s mouth, and Nick ground against his hand.

  Colin came half a beat before Nick did, bitter come flooding his mouth as he swallowed. He almost choked as his own orgasm hit, a blinding flash of light and heat.

  When he opened his eyes, Colin was tucking himself back into his pants messily, and Nick was painfully aware of a growing wet spot and his thirty-year-old knees protesting.

  Colin must have known because he reached down and gently helped Nick up. “You’re a menace,” Colin said playfully as they walked into the house. “I’m never going to be able to think about Aaron Rodgers again without getting a hard-on.”

  Nick grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and leaned against the counter, knowing he should go upstairs to shower and change, but not wanting to leave Colin’s presence for the time it would take. Every time he left, coming back felt even better.

  “Maybe that was the plan,” Nick said slyly.

  Colin groaned.

  “I’m going to go shower. When are Jemma and Gabe getting here again?” Now that the endorphin rush was fading, Nick felt rather gross.

  “Wouldn’t that have been an important thing to find out before you went down on me in the driveway?”

  Nick shrugged. “Might have been educational.”

  Colin just shook his head, the giggles practically spilling out of him. “They arrived a few hours ago.” And because that didn’t get the shocked concern he’d probably expected, continued. “I put them up at the Four Seasons, with instructions to Lindsay that she makes sure they’re spoiled.”

  Colin looked really proud of himself, like he’d solved a problem that Nick hadn’t even discovered yet. What Colin had yet to truly figure out was that Nick could not give a crap if they had loud reunion sex with Gabe and Jemma just down the hall. Nick was so in love, he was totally shameless with it.

  But hey, if Colin wanted to spoil Gabe and Jemma so he could get some privacy, that was fine by Nick, too.

  “Are we going out or staying in?” Nick asked, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. Like he didn’t already know the answer. It was Friday night. The game was on Sunday afternoon. Gabe and Jemma were in town. And since Nick basically moved to Florida, he’d discovered one of his favorite things to do with his boyfriend was to spend the night in, watching his house-husband-slash-NFL-quarterback in front of the grill and a guilty pleasure show on Netflix.

  “Staying in. I’m grilling.”

  If Nick spent his entire shower grinning like an idiot, then nobody needed to know but him and the tile walls.

  After digesting dinner, Colin suggested they go for a midnight swim just as Nick was gearing up for another episode of Leverage. He valiantly didn’t pout and followed Colin out to the veranda instead, stripping off their clothes and sinking into the cool water. It was September but it was still damn hot.

  “Are you nervous?” Nick asked, as Colin swam circles around him. Nick felt too lazy to swim. He’d dragged his butt to the pool because tomorrow Colin would go to bed early, and they’d not get to enjoy this. But that didn’t mean Nick had to turn it into actual physical exercise. Colin couldn’t seem to help himself because he was Colin O’Connor.

  Colin shrugged. Even though he’d asked in the capacity of Colin’s significant other, Nick found it hard to not shift into journalist mode, watching Colin’s face carefully for any sign he wasn’t being honest. It turned out, it was difficult to turn off his inquisitive instincts, even when they weren’t necessary. But the truth was, Nick as a boyfriend had spent the last six months discovering that if Colin was truly anxious about tomorrow, he’d tell him.

  “People have been shitty. People have been nice. If I let them get to me, I can’t change their minds.” Since the horrible night at the fundraiser, Colin had developed a plan to deal with the assholes who couldn’t accept who he was: ignore, and if ignoring was impossible, don’t ever sink to their level.

  Nick hadn’t thought he could be prouder than he’d been in those weeks after Colin’s coming out, but after spending the last six months watching his boyfriend confront ignorance and homophobia, he discovered new levels of pride every day.

  Every time he was confronted with a dickhead, Colin had made it his personal mantra to rise.

  To his surprise, the entire Piranhas team, who had not been entirely supportive, but close enough, had adopted the slogan for the upcoming season.

  Three months ago, Nick had taken a few weeks of leave to help Colin found The Rise Foundation, which helped LGBTA+ kids with resources, shelter, and medical care.

  Still, it was hard to forget the boos during the preseason games. It was hard to unhear what Nick had heard some fans shout in Colin’s direction. It was hard to un-see some of the signs he’d seen in the stands. It was hard to forget the rumors he’d heard about a particularly virulent group of homophobic players.

  Basically, Nick still worried about Colin, and he didn’t know if he would ever stop because even though he knew Colin could handle it, Nick didn’t want him to handle it. He didn’t want him to have to experience it at all. Every instance still made him burn with rage. Rising was a choice that Nick had to make each and every time. It didn’t come naturally to him the way it did to Colin.

  “I sent an email to Helen. She said she’d try to alert security about signs and disruptive fans in the stands.”

  Colin shook his head, amused. “I know they bother you. They don’t bother me. They’ve exposed themselves through their own hatred.”

  Nick found his fists clenching impotently in the water. Was it so wrong that he still found the instinct to protect the man he loved the strongest of all? Would Colin feel differently if their positions were reversed?

  “I’m not worried about them,” Colin continued. “Even if the whole stadium chose to boo me.”

  “You would care,” Nick insisted.

  “No, because it wouldn’t be the whole stadium. I know you’re there. Jemma’s there. Gabe’s there. Teddy and Boomer are there. Teddy’s wife and their kids. They’re not going to boo me. And that’s who really matters.”

  Colin floated over to where Nick was trying to relax, one uncooperative muscle at a time, against the edge of the pool. He reached down and took Nick’s hands in his. “It’s okay. I know you worry because you love me. But I hate to see you this upset.”

  Nick hadn’t even known he was upset until he’d considered the possibility that Colin could face a whole stadium of hatred on Sunday.

  “I’m not upset,” Nick said, which they both knew was a lie. But he tried to make it true, gradually calming his breathing, and calming his mind and then forcing each muscle to unknot.

  “You’re not upset,” Colin confirmed, when Nick had finally sagged against Colin’s big, broad body. “You’re good.”

  No, nothing was perfect, but they still had each other.

  “You look like you’re about to puke,” Jemma said critically, eyeing him sideways from their position at the front of the luxury box suite at the Piranhas’ stadium.

  “I’m fine,” Nick ground out. He figured the more emphatically he said it, the more accurate it might become.

  “No, you’re a nervous wreck.” J
emma tossed her ponytail. “I know you’ve been to a ridiculous number of games in your life. But it’s not really the same when it’s Colin, is it?”

  Nick clenched the beer bottle in his fist. “It’s not the same,” he had to agree.

  “He’s solid. He looked fantastic in preseason. Great footwork. Even better arm.”

  “You don’t need to preach his skills to me,” Nick said with an eyeroll.

  Gabe wandered over. “I’ve been drafted to stop you from launching yourself out of the box and attacking anyone who looks at O’Connor sideways,” he announced.

  Nick glared at Jemma. “I’m not that bad.”

  She threw her hands up. “I didn’t say you were. For the record, I’m not the one who talked to him.”

  “Oh. Oh.” Nick flushed, embarrassed that he’d been so transparent that Colin had actually been worried enough to talk to Gabe about it.

  “You,” Jemma said, jabbing a finger Nick’s direction, “need to chill. And Colin needs less chill.”

  “Yeah, that’s not happening, not with all this.” Gabe gestured around the stadium. It was draped in flags and banners proclaiming, ’Rise’, many of them in rainbow colors.

  The first time Colin had brought Nick to see them, a few weeks ago, Nick had choked up. He’d never, even in his wildest dreams, imagined a modern-day football team embracing LGBTA+ rights this way. But that was before the preseason had started. Before Nick had gotten too caught up in the signs and the boos and before he’d started hearing the echoed insults in his nightmares.

  “It’s not that easy,” Nick said quietly. “I worry because I love him.”

  “And nobody would doubt you cared if you let some things go,” Jemma said, her voice kind. “I’ve got to talk to Mark, I’ll be right back.

  Nick and Gabe watched Jemma wander over to where Colin’s manager was currently holding court. “You know she didn’t need to talk to him, right?” Gabe asked.

  Nick rolled his eyes. “As if anyone ever wants to talk to that guy.”