by Layla Reyne
“Dane, we have to go, now!” he exclaimed low.
“Thirty more seconds.”
“You’ve got ten, max.” His attention lashed back and forth—to Robin getting closer, to Dane typing faster. She was two doors down, in front of the main lab. He ran back to Dane’s side, going for the flash drive. Whatever was on there would have to suffice. Dane grabbed his wrist, stopping him.
Robin laughed right outside the office door. “Babe, we have to go!”
Dane’s hand tightened around his wrist. He hit Return with his other, then a half second later, yanked the flash drive out of the computer. He hit another key, and the screen turned black. “That’s it. Let’s go!”
Alex hauled him up and through the connected doors into the main lab, just as the office door opened. They tiptoed through the dark lab, waited at the door to the hall until the coast was clear, then, hoodies up, slipped out. Trying to walk slow and appear calm was a struggle, Alex feeling anything but. Only Dane’s hand in his kept him steady.
They turned the corner, headed for the exit door to the parking lot, only to see a tall form outside the door, flashing his key card to enter. Alex veered left and ran flat out down the hall to his office, dragging Dane behind him, not giving a fuck about how they looked on camera. The chances and consequences of a probably snoozing security guard noticing them on a tiny monitor were far outweighed by the likelihood of the man at the door seeing them in person and the consequences he could bring down on them.
Alex swiped his badge, opened his office door, and shoved Dane inside. He closed the door behind them, leaving the lights off.
“Who was that?” Dane asked, back to the door.
“The Committee chairman.”
“Oh, crap!”
Alex slammed a hand over his mouth, whispering harshly, “Quiet.”
He listened as the chairman approached, Oxford heels clicking on the linoleum floor. Dane shifted out from under his hand, leaning an ear to the door, listening intently.
The chairman’s steps grew louder, then stopped, right outside Alex’s door.
They were caught, done for. His gaze locked with Dane’s, just visible in the low light. I’m sorry, he mouthed.
I’m not, Dane replied without sound, not an ounce of regret in his eyes.
And then the chairman’s steps resumed, passing the door and fading as he walked on down the hallway, away from Alex’s office.
Eyes fluttering closed, Alex fell back against the door. “Oh, thank fu—”
Dane’s tongue down his throat cut off the relieved curse and chased away the rest of Alex’s panic, stealing his breath and heart instead.
“Adrenaline junkie,” he said against Dane’s lips when they came up for air.
“You called me babe.” Dane trailed his mouth down Alex’s neck, and a shiver worked its way up from Alex’s belly.
So good, but so not the time or place.
He pushed Dane back. “Wait to start that somewhere we can finish it.” Stepping past him and over to his desk, Alex pulled out a tote bag and started gathering his personal effects.
Dane wandered to his side. “What are you doing?”
“Grabbing a few things, in case I don’t get another chance.”
“You’ll get another—” His words cut off, and Alex followed the direction of his gaze, to the Knights swim cap in Alex’s hand.
“You kept it,” Dane said, voice full of awe and something more.
Alex wanted to give him more, felt confident enough to do that now. “That was the best summer of my life.”
A finger slid under his chin, gentle and coaxing, and Dane tipped his face up, just as he’d done in the barn. His eyes were as full of hope as they had been there. No longer ice-cold. More like the clear blue sky of a warm summer day. “This will be the best summer of your life,” he vowed. “I promise.”
Alex believed him.
Standing outside Alex’s third-floor apartment, Dane looked past the rusted wrought iron railing and older-than-time globe lights, past the pothole-ridden parking lot and faded complex sign, to the moonlit fields across the highway. Beneath the starry sky, they stretched as far as Dane could see, all the way to the shadowy base of mountains in the far-off distance.
“Kind of reminds me of Laurinburg,” he said. Since Alex had pulled the Knights swim cap out of his desk, Dane hadn’t been able to get those hot summer nights, so much like this night, out of his head.
“Except with mountains,” Alex said, as he dug keys out of his pocket.
“Granted.”
“Town’s also bigger here.”
“That’s not saying much. Most places are bigger than Laurinburg.” Their off-campus entertainment that summer had consisted of a run-down strip mall, a run-down movie theater, and a run-down bowling alley.
Alex chuckled. “This is true.”
“You’re closer to the farm out here?” Dane asked.
“On this side of town, yeah. I can get out to Vineland in fifteen, and Carla can get to Pueblo’s campus in about the same.”
“But far for you to drive to USOC.”
“Plenty of people have longer commutes.” He flipped the second deadbolt and opened the door, reaching in to turn on a light. “It’s not much, but it’s home,” he said, holding the door for Dane.
Letting the commute issue go, sensing it was a touchy subject for Alex, Dane stepped inside and surveyed the tiny apartment. Whoever had decorated, more likely Carla than Alex, Dane guessed, seemed to have a similar decorative flair as their mother. Lemon yellow throw pillows on a blue cushioned futon, a brightly striped quilt spread over the top. Matching stitched flowers on the living room curtains and fresh-cut flowers in a vase on the card table in the dining nook. Most of the furniture looked mismatched and roughed up, yard sale finds maybe, but with everything tidy and the bright decorations, the small space felt welcoming.
Like a home.
Made so by Carla and Alex, not by housekeepers or interior designers. Probably at less than a tenth of what a single room of furnishings in his parents’ house cost and with at least ten times more warmth.
Dane dropped his duffle on the futon as Alex closed the door behind them, flipping the locks. “What time will Carla get here?” Dane asked.
Alex coasted a hand across his lower back, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “She’s staying out at the farm tonight.”
“She didn’t have to.” Not that he wasn’t grateful for the privacy, especially if Alex was going to tease him like that. He was tired, drained from the past two days of hell, but he desperately wanted to finish what they’d started in the barn, then again in Alex’s office. Here, in private, they could kiss, touch, more . . .
“Mom has chemo tomorrow.”
And mood killed.
Which was good. Dane needed to stay focused, for at least a few more minutes. He carried his computer bag over to the card table, pulled out his laptop and waited for it to boot up. “She seemed tired but okay this afternoon.”
“She’s getting better.” Alex moved past him into the kitchen, fiddling with the coffee maker. “The post-op chemo isn’t as bad. Three months ago, she couldn’t get out of bed.”
Dane fumbled the flash drive, imagining the weight Alex must be carrying. “I’m sorry” seemed woefully inadequate, but it was all he had.
The coffee maker chugged to life, and Alex stepped back over to him. Dane snagged his hand, tangling their fingers and trying to focus on the positive. “I’m glad she’s getting better.”
Alex squeezed his fingers, the tight hold just shy of painful. “I hope they got it all this time.” Before Dane could find any, much less the right, words, Alex nodded at the screen. “How long will that take?”
Clearing his throat, Dane dropped Alex’s hand and got back to work. “A few hours to overnight. It’s hard to tell yet.”
His brow furrowed. “But you transferred them in less than a minute?”
“Decryption takes time.” He entered a
few more commands, then slumped in the chair. “All right, that should do it. It’ll alert us when it’s finished.”
Alex laid a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you go take a shower?”
He ducked his head, sniffed. “Do I smell bad?”
The hand on his shoulder glided up, weaving lightly through his hair. “No, but you’re giving the angry farm rooster a run for his money right now.”
Eyes slipping shut, Dane leaned into the touch. He hummed, contented, as Alex massaged his scalp, until Alex’s stomach, right at his ear, rumbled loudly. “Someone hungry? I didn’t see you eat any of those empanadas.”
“Was too nervous. But I’m starving, now. First time in a couple days.” Dane liked the sound of that, especially if it meant Alex was hopeful about his chances of reinstatement. And about their chances together too. The hand fell out of his hair, and Alex meandered back into the kitchen. “Go, shower, and I’ll whip something up. Won’t be your level, but it’ll be edible.”
“I’m sure it’ll be good.”
“Bathroom’s tiny, so use my room to change.”
“Thanks.”
Dane grabbed his duffel and headed down the short hallway. A closet and bathroom on the right, a single bedroom across the hall on the left. He dropped his bag on the queen-sized bed and looked around. Everything neat and organized in the tight space, but still homey, like the living area. Bed covered in another handmade quilt, the same flowery curtains on the windows, and the same ancient alarm clock on the bedside table. Dane laughed. God, how many times had they knocked that thing into the floor, the two of them trying and so often failing to squeeze into a twin dorm bed. He ran his hand over it, then over the hand-carved medals case hanging on the wall above it. Inside were Alex’s two backstroke golds and the relay silver from the last Games. Shining bright, something to aspire to.
If Dane had cost him another three . . .
He shook his head, banishing the thought. They were going to beat this. He continued around the room, to the dresser topped with dozens of framed pictures—of Alex with his family, friends, and teammates. With Bas, Mo, and Ryan from the last Olympic games, and more team pictures from USC. Many were candids, like the photos that lined the walls of the farmhouse. Alex thrown over Bas’s shoulder in a fireman’s hold. Alex hugging Mo, who was holding up a phone with the picture of his newborn baby. Alex in a tug-of-war over a pool hose with Ryan.
Dane pressed the heel of his hand to his chest, futilely trying to rub away the emptiness there. He wanted to be in those pictures—wished he had friends and teammates like that—but until yesterday, he’d never really been himself to anyone other than Mo, and so he’d never had any other real friends either. Always hidden away, behind the poster boy, for fear of exposure, he’d missed out on all this.
Such a fucking waste.
“I don’t hear the water running,” Alex hollered from the kitchen.
Dane smiled, melancholy fading. But he was here now, putting his real self out there to his teammates, to Alex’s family, and to the man he loved. And he was dying to get back out there and tell him that. He showered quickly, changed into sweats and a tee, and when he returned to the living area, found his computer pushed to the far edge of the table and Alex laying out a training snack. Bacon, lettuce, tomato, avocado, and wheat bread for sandwiches, plus two cups of coffee, Alex’s black, Dane’s with more cream than coffee, the way he’d always taken it.
“Why are you smiling?” Alex asked.
He gestured at the table. “That you know to do this.”
“It’s my routine too. At least it used to be.”
“Hey.” Dane snagged his hand and drew him close. “It will be again.” He leaned in for the kiss he’d been craving for the last hour and was stopped short by his phone vibrating on the table.
“That’s the third time since you’ve been in the shower. I don’t want to know how many times since the farm.”
Dane picked up the device, unsurprised to see ten missed calls and a voice mail from his parents. “Guess the parental units figured out I’m not where I’m supposed to be.” He listened to the message from his mother. She’d heard he was sick, from Roger, and they’d tried to stop by to check on him, but Bas had warned them off. He rolled his eyes when she mentioned flying out their private physician to check on him tomorrow. He erased the message, turned the phone off, and tossed it on the futon. “Bas scared them off, for now,” he said, taking the chair next to Alex.
“Good.” Alex set a sandwich on the plate in front of him. “When did you tell the team you’d be back?”
“I asked them to buy me a day.” Dane took a bite, chewed, swallowed. “I told Roger I’d have his plane back tomorrow.”
Alex’s eyes rounded comically wide, his sandwich splattering on his plate. “Roger, as in your publicist?” The next bit was even higher. “And his plane?”
“Yes, and yes.” Dane reassembled Alex’s sandwich for him and made sure he had a firm grip on it before explaining the rest. “I couldn’t exactly fly commercial if I didn’t want my parents to find out.”
“I thought Roger was in league with your parents?” Alex said around a mouthful of food.
“They miscalculated.” Dane finished off a half, then angled toward Alex in his chair. “You didn’t tell me he tried to recruit you.”
“As a gay athlete poster boy. I didn’t want any part of it.”
It’d taken Dane no time to piece together the why of that when Roger had revealed that tidbit to him last night. “Not because you’re ashamed, but because you hate the spotlight, right?”
Alex nodded. “Right or wrong, I’m no one’s poster boy, for any reason. That’s just not me. I’d rather fly under the radar, swim hard, get my medals, and go home. Set an example that way.”
Dane could respect that. He could also tease a little too. He jostled Alex’s shoulder and whispered close to his ear. “It’s a shame. You’re kind of hot, Cantu. You on a poster . . .”
Alex shoved back harder, then crammed another bite of sandwich into his upturned mouth.
“I’m used to the spotlight,” Dane said. And Roger had already planned for the shift in image, also revealing that he’d suspected for some time that Dane was gay. “I don’t mind being the poster boy, especially for this team and for a good cause, one that’s important to me.”
Alex bumped his knees, and his voice was soft, a little hesitant, when he spoke again. “If it’s important to you, why haven’t I heard you admit it yet?”
“Can I show you instead?”
Alex’s gaze whipped up, almost as fast as the flush that streaked his cheeks. While he hadn’t meant it as innuendo, Dane could see how Alex’s mind jumped to a kiss, or more. And Dane wanted things to go there too tonight, but he wanted to show Alex something else first.
He pushed their plates aside and pulled his laptop toward them. He minimized the terminal box that was running the decryption and accessed his personal files, entering the password and opening the Knights folder.
The pictures from their summer together filled the screen. The only candids of Dane. The only other time he’d ever been himself, completely.
“This is why I started hacking,” he said. “This is what I had to protect.”
Alex clicked through the images, pausing a few seconds on each. “Dane . . .”
“Every day for ten years, Alejandro. Every day I looked at these pictures and remembered you. Remembered that this was the happiest I’d ever been.”
Alex fell back in his chair, mouth hanging open, brown eyes swirling with a mixture of surprise, hope, and apprehension. All summed up in a single, croaked word. “Why?”
“Because I’m gay.”
It was both easier and harder to say this time. Easier because he’d already admitted it to himself and to others. Had already said the words aloud to his teammates and to Roger. Harder, though, because this was the person whose response mattered most. Scooting to the edge of his chair, he lifted his han
ds and cupped Alex’s face, fingertips tangling in his curls. “Because that summer I met and fell in love with a beautiful boy I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I’m so sorry I turned my back on you, Alex. I’m sorry I was a coward for so long.”
Alex stayed frozen, staring, for the longest five seconds of Dane’s life. The suspense was worse than standing crouched on the blocks before a race, waiting for the starting horn to blow. Finally, Alex dipped his face in, kissing one of Dane’s palms as he brought his own hands up, covering Dane’s. “You’re here now.”
“Te amo, Alejandro,” Dane whispered, speaking the words that had been trapped in his chest for a decade. He’d loved Alex from across the pool and across a dorm room, then from across the country and across the years. Across everything that had stood between them. He leaned forward, brushing their lips together. “Siempre he amado.” Always, even apart, that love hadn’t wavered.
Alex inhaled sharply, his thumbs halting their caress of Dane’s hands, and when he didn’t reply after another beat, Dane pulled back. Suspense tore at his insides once more, worse than the altitude ever had. Had he said enough? Had he said too much? “Say something, Alejandro, please.”
Eyes darkening, Alex hitched up one corner of his mouth in an attractive, devilish smirk. “Can I show you instead?” he parroted back, and swallowed Dane’s relieved, breathless “yes” in a kiss that said everything Dane needed to hear.
Tongue diving between his lips, Alex swept the inside of his mouth, leaving Dane’s own tongue no choice but to come out and play, a tangle that sent heat spiraling through him and wrenched a low moan from deep in his throat. Without breaking the kiss, Alex stood and straddled Dane’s legs, coming down hard on Dane’s lap. Dane thrilled at the contact. Groin on groin, muscular thighs atop muscular thighs, scruff under his palms, and strong, cut arms wrapping around his neck, hauling him close. This was who Dane was, and the man in his arms, Alex, was who he was supposed to love. He’d tried to make it work with girls in high school and college, but the interest, the attraction, had never been there. Because he wanted hard and masculine, and he wanted to surrender, wanted to follow instead of lead. He rolled his hips, rutting their cocks together, and the friction was enough to short-circuit his brain.
