Medley

by Layla Reyne

  He opened his eyes.

  Bas was kneeling in front of him, blue eyes warm and relieved. When he spoke, his words were soft yet firm. Certain. “You could never disappoint anyone.”

  Bas hadn’t known it was possible for a heart to soar and crash at the same time. Not until he pushed through the plaza crowd and saw a raggedy-ass orange baseball cap resting atop knobby knees. Jacob was safe, right where Dane said he would be.

  Pure relief.

  But that long rangy body Bas had come to appreciate and want was curled in on itself, all of Jacob’s limbs tucked in tight like an injured animal hiding from the world.

  Pure regret.

  Bas had done that to him.

  This was not a page in the pup’s story he’d wanted to write. Fuck, he’d wanted to tear out all the pages like this and burn them, set fire and banish all the people and events that had caused Jacob pain. Instead, he’d added to them. He’d thought he’d been protecting Jacob by pushing him away. All he’d done instead was hurt him. Like he’d hurt Julio, only worse. Because Jacob shared none of the blame here. Because this could have been so much more. And fuck if Bas didn’t still want that. He wanted Jacob—caring, perceptive, funny, open, beautiful, pirate-quoting dork that he was. But how could he convince Jacob he’d cherish all he had to offer when Bas had so miserably failed to do so up to this point?

  Rectifying his mistakes would have to wait, though. Bas had to put Jacob’s needs first, which most urgently included getting him back to Olympic Village and rested for tomorrow’s race. Bas would not let gold slip through the squad’s fingers because of his idiocy.

  As he approached, he noticed a phone to Jacob’s ear and heard him say “Dad.” He went on to say that he’d messed up and was afraid he’d disappointed everyone. Nothing could be further from the truth.

  “You haven’t,” Bas said, standing above him.

  Jacob jolted but didn’t look up. Kneeling, Bas reached out a hand, slow like he’d seen Jacob do, and placed it on Jacob’s shin. Jacob opened his eyes, and the tears threatening there shattered Bas’s heart where it lay at the younger man’s feet.

  “You could never disappointment anyone,” he assured him.

  Jacob just stared, unblinking, as his father’s shouts from the phone grew increasingly frantic. Slipping the phone from Jacob’s hand, Bas flipped on the camera and waved at Davis Burrows.

  “Hey, Mr. B.,” he said lightly, pretending like his world wasn’t also falling apart. “I snagged the phone from your son so I could say hi in person.”

  Davis calmed, the lines on his forehead smoothing out beneath a headful of shaggy blond hair like his son’s, pre-buzz cut. “Sebastian, right?”

  “Yes, sir. Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Same to you. Listen, my boy’s worried about the race tomorrow.”

  Bas shifted to sit next to Jacob, throwing an arm over his shoulders so they were both in the camera’s view. “He’s got nothing to worry about. We’re going to win, and Jacob’s going to add another gold to his collection.”

  “Good,” Davis said. “Get that through his thick skull, won’t you? He’s stubborn sometimes, like his old man.”

  Bas chuckled, pulling a stiff Jacob closer. “I’ll try, sir.”

  “You ever in San Antonio, Sebastian, you come by.”

  “I’d like that.”

  Davis’s gaze shifted to Jacob, and his smile dimmed, concerned for his son. “Jacob, you gonna win tomorrow?”

  When Jacob didn’t answer, Bas gave him a shake, whispering in his ear, “Your dad needs to know you’re okay.”

  Arm around his shoulders, Bas felt Jacob summon up the mask, his spine straightening as he inhaled a deep breath. “Yeah, we’re going to win, Dad.”

  “All right, then. It looks hot there. I’ll let you boys go. Medal or not, we’re proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Mr. B.,” Bas said, passing the phone back to Jacob.

  Father and son exchanged a few parting words before ending the call. Jacob pocketed the phone, glancing sideways. “Why did you tell him I was going to win the gold tomorrow?”

  “Because you are.”

  Jacob shifted out from under his arm. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here for you.”

  “You don’t want me.” Jacob paused, then added, “On your team.”

  By the tears welling in his eyes, Jacob clearly believed both to be true.

  Both were dead wrong, and Bas intended to set the record straight, once he got Jacob back to safety. He curled a hand over Jacob’s knee. “Can I take you back to the Village, please?”

  “I’m fine here.”

  “Well, I’m not leaving you here, and while you can disguise yourself, I can’t.” Over Jacob’s shoulder, he’d spotted someone with a camera aimed straight at them. He needed to get them out of here. He stood, hand outstretched. “Come on, Jacob,” he said, using the direct address he knew Jacob liked.

  It worked, if begrudgingly, Jacob glaring as he took his hand. Once standing, he tried to pull free, but Bas didn’t let him go. He wasn’t going to lose him again, not in the crowd and not until he apologized.

  Their trip back to Olympic Village couldn’t have been more different than their last cab ride together, when Jacob’s face had been buried in Bas’s neck. Now, Jacob sat as far away as possible in the back seat, dozing against the opposite window, while Bas texted Alex updates.

  I found him. We’re on our way back. Where’s Coach? Given the earlier story they’d fed Coach, Bas needed to get Jacob inside without being seen.

  Pool. You need backup?

  Later, maybe, when I go to swim. Bas had his last individual race tonight, the evening’s final event, but that swim was hours away. He had a heart to win first.

  I’ll send Dane.

  Thanks.

  Good luck.

  He darkened the screen just as they turned toward Olympic Village. Leaning forward, Bas directed the driver to the closest drop-off for their building. He shoved a wad of Euros at him and followed Jacob out. Inside, it was quiet in the lobby and on the second floor, most of the athletes at events or lunch. When Jacob stopped in front of the door to his triple, Bas pressed a hand to his back and redirected him across the hall.

  “We need to talk,” he said, cutting off Jacob’s protest.

  He unlocked his door and nudged Jacob inside. Windows open, a warm breeze wafted in and sunlight slanted across the two twin beds Bas had pushed together in the center of the room.

  Shoulders slumped, Jacob stopped in the entryway, just past the bathroom. “I’m sorry I missed the heat this morning.”

  “Jesus, Jacob, you’re not the one who needs to apologize.”

  “I read this wrong.” He turned toward the door. “You don’t owe me—”

  “Yeah, I do,” Bas said, blocking his exit. Slowly, he raised a hand and cupped Jacob’s cheek, the overnight scruff lighting his blood on fire. “I owe you an apology and so much more.”

  Jacob looked up at him, the midday sun making his green eyes glow, and Bas wanted nothing more than to slide his hand around the back of Jacob’s neck, draw him in, and kiss away all of his doubts. But that would be doing what Bas wanted, not what Jacob needed, especially when those same eyes were filled with resignation and hurt. Jacob needed an explanation and reassurance that he was wanted and needed, on the team and by Bas. He deserved to know none of this was on him.

  Hand at Jacob’s back, Bas led him into the bathroom, lowered the toilet lid, and turned Jacob around. “Sit,” he said, and waited for the younger man to get situated before stepping between his thighs. Bas removed his ball cap, tossed it on the vanity, and ran a hand over his head, over the blond Chia Pet fuzz.

  “We need to fix this,” he said. By Jacob’s sharp inhale, he’d caught the double meaning. Stepping back, Bas wet a washcloth in the sink and held it out to Jacob with a dry towel. “Wipe down while I grab the clippers out of my bag.”

  Jacob took the rags from Bas,
fingers brushing his, heat flaring at the connection. Bas forced himself to retreat, to gather himself and the things he needed. He couldn’t screw this up. Jacob, his team, their future depended on it. He dug through his bag on the luggage rack below the window, and collected his clippers. He started back for the bathroom, before remembering what else he needed to make his case.

  His tablet lay facedown on the bed where he’d tossed it this morning. He always spoke best through this artwork. It was one of the tells Julio had picked up on, together with the way Jacob and Bas watched and gravitated toward each other. The tattoo on Jacob’s outer shoulder, inked after only a week and a half of knowing him, was some of Bas’s best work. Simple, yet his admiration and affection for Jacob were right there to see for anyone who knew what to look for, especially Julio. Bas should have recognized it earlier himself; some part of him had, the truth too stark to deny. He’d fought like hell to ignore those feelings, then pushed Jacob away to avoid acting on them. He prayed he hadn’t lost everything, most of all Jacob, in the process.

  Bas carried the clippers and tablet back into the bathroom. Exhausted, Jacob, who’d removed his shirt, wiped down, and slung the dry towel over his bare shoulders, wavered where he sat, head bobbing. Bas considered telling him to go lie down. They could talk later, after Bas’s race and after Jacob had rested, but then Jacob’s eyes fluttered open, slices of green looking up at him through burnished-gold lashes.

  “Fix it,” he invited, his double meaning just as clear as Bas’s earlier declaration.

  Bas set the tablet aside, within reach, and stepped between Jacob’s legs again, flipping the clippers on. Blade to scalp, he ran it over Jacob’s head in long sweeps, same as he’d done two weeks ago.

  “I’m sorry,” Bas said after several passes. “For what I said yesterday after your race.”

  Jacob tried to tip his head up. “You don’t have to—”

  “I do.” Bas grasped his chin and held him level. “Of all people, I understand what it means to be bisexual, and I understand what it means to be doubted because of it. It’s one of the reasons Julio and I would never have worked, long-term. I don’t want you to ever think I’m doubting you, your choices, or throwing that in your face. And I’ll never expect you to make a choice between men or women, or doubt you because you like both. It’s who you are. End of story.” He made two more passes with the clippers. “And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

  Jacob’s pulse kicked under his fingers. “‘Want’? You’ve been acting like I’m the last person you want.”

  “Acting, because I’m an idiot.” He tipped back Jacob’s face. “Nothing could be further from the truth.” He thought back to his conversation with Leah. All those things she liked about Jacob were the reasons Bas liked him too. More than liked, as he’d all but confessed to his mother. But just as he’d told Leah, Jacob was the one who deserved to hear the praise. Needed to hear it. “You’re an amazing swimmer, Jacob. Not to mention smart, funny, perceptive, and beautiful.”

  “Beautiful.” Jacob’s chuckle was colored with doubt. “More like an uncoordinated mess of limbs.”

  “That too, but no less beautiful for it. I want you, baby, and I’m sorry I made you think otherwise. Truth is, that night at the tattoo parlor ruined me for anybody else.”

  “How can I believe—”

  “I have no right to ask you to,” Bas conceded. “But let me show you my truth.” He turned off the clippers, reached for his tablet, and handed it to Jacob. “Open the DPR folder.”

  “‘DPR’?” Jacob asked, as he tapped the folder on the screen.

  “Dread Pirate Roberts.”

  Jacob’s soft chuckle turned to a gasp as he opened the first of countless sketches. Not of tattoos but of him. A whole folder full of them, of his muse. Jacob’s face, his profile, his body in motion, in the pool and in ecstasy.

  Jacob’s eyes grew wider with each image, his cheeks flaming bright red at the one Bas had drawn after their night together in Vienna. Jacob asleep in the moonlight, Bas having sat up to watch him. Jacob ran his fingers over the lines of his parted lips, his muscled back, his smooth bare hip, digitally smudging them. Bas didn’t object. These were as much Jacob’s drawings as they were his. When Jacob reached the last one—his pained face from after the race last night, a nightmare image that had kept Bas awake until he’d drawn it out—he peered at it a long minute, before closing the tablet and handing it back to Bas. “Why did you push me away?”

  Bas set the tablet on the vanity and clicked the clippers on again. He swiped over Jacob’s scalp with his hand, feeling for the natural fade, and Jacob shivered, bracing a hand on Bas’s thigh. It damn near burned him, but Bas pushed on, owing Jacob an answer. “At first I thought I was protecting you and the team.”

  “Because of what happened at the last Olympics?”

  “I didn’t want to cost the team gold after I made such a mess of things last time.” He started on the right side fade. “And I didn’t want to hurt you. The men in my family are not the best at being faithful. They cheat and leave. And I’ve played the field, all sides. A medley of bedmates . . .”

  Jacob squeezed his thigh. “Now you’re internalizing the stereotype. That has nothing to do with you being bi.”

  Fuck, this kid was so much smarter than any of them gave him credit for. Smiling softly, Bas moved on to the left side. “You’re right. It had everything to do with me being a scared idiot. It was an excuse. I’m afraid because I don’t know how much longer you’re going to want me.”

  “You just said my bisexuality didn’t make you doubt.”

  “It doesn’t. Your age does.”

  Jacob’s hand shot off his thigh, darting up and wrapping around his hand, halting Bas from taking another pass with the clippers. “I’m old enough to know what I want.” His voice was stronger than it’d been all afternoon, some of the fire back in it.

  “For how long?”

  Jacob gentled his grip, a caress almost. “Bas—”

  He pulled his hand free, going back to work. “I saw what my dad leaving did to my mom. I saw that coming for me and Julio, because of my bisexuality, among other reasons, and as much as I cared for him, the thought of being the one left behind, of experiencing even a fraction of what my mom went through, scared the shit out of me.”

  “So you left him?”

  “I did, very publicly, then made a spectacle of myself the next two weeks. Not my finest moment.”

  “He said you regretted it.”

  Bas jerked up the blade. “He said what?”

  Jacob’s head whipped back at the sharp tone. “He said that you said leaving him was your biggest regret.”

  “When did he say that?”

  “He overheard us, in the tunnel after the race.”

  “That’s why you left?”

  Jacob lowered his face again. “I didn’t want to make things awkward with the team. And I didn’t want to stand in your way. Back to him, if that’s what you wanted.”

  Bas took a final swipe with the clippers and his hand. “One, you belong on the team, including the medley relay squad. You earned that spot and we need you, no matter what happens here between us. And two, what I told Julio was I regretted how I left, not that I did.”

  “Ah,” Jacob sighed. “So he fucked with me after all.”

  Bas switched off the clippers, set them on the vanity next to his tablet, and pulled the towel off Jacob’s shoulders, brushing him off before tossing the cloth in the sink. Bracing his hands on Jacob’s knees, Bas lowered himself to kneeling between Jacob’s legs. “He fucked with you because I was too much of a coward to tell you how I felt. You’re young, smart, perceptive, beautiful. And you get me too—my bisexuality and my reservations. Jacob, you made yourself miserable to give me an out.”

  “I didn’t want to pressure.”

  “I know, and I don’t want to pressure you now. There are going to be so many paths open to you. There’s no reason you should stay on mine.”<
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  Jacob laid his hands over Bas’s, squeezing. There was more of that fire in his voice when he spoke. “And what about the paths for you? You don’t think I’m scared too? My mother left us. You could leave me too. My family’s not easy, and I’m just a goofball kid who is as far from cool and charming as you can get.”

  “Don’t know if you’ve realized this, Pup—” Bas lifted a hand, cradling his cheek “—but your uncoolness is the most charming thing about you. You’re beautiful, baby.” Jacob’s lips parted, a whimper escaping. He turned his face into Bas’s hand, breath skating over his palm, and Bas’s eyes fluttered closed. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t let that beauty go. You’re everything I want, but I shouldn’t stand in your way.”

  Jacob tangled his fingers with Bas’s on his knee and curled his other hand around Bas’s neck. “What if I want you to be mine?”

  “I’m yours, Pup, if you’ll have me.”

  Jacob’s hand around his neck tightened. “Jacob, call me Jacob.”

  Bas licked his lips and met Jacob’s molten mint eyes. It was his turn to make the ask. The same ask Jacob had been brave enough to make multiple times before. It’d be the scariest ask of Bas’s life with anyone else, but fear melted away in the face of everything he’d come to know about this remarkable young man. He could trust Jacob with everything. He could make the ask and know his heart was in good hands.

  “Stay, Jacob, please.”

  Bas barely got out the please before Jacob hurled himself into his lap, sealing their mouths in a hungry kiss and getting as close to Bas as he could.

  No doubts, no second-guesses between them, just pure need and want.

  Both of them finally on the same page.

  He hadn’t known what to expect when Bas showed up at the square, then led him back to his room. He’d ignored all the similarities to that night in Vienna—the hand on his back, the gentle words, the careful consideration—because where that night had gone, from lowest to highest to impossibly lower, was not a roller coaster Jacob had wanted to ride again. At best, he’d hoped his team wasn’t blistering angry at him for missing the heat.