by Megan Slayer
Tyler stared at his feet. He’d been told one time that only a liar couldn’t look a man in the eye. He wasn’t lying, but he also couldn’t make eye contact with Allan. He didn’t understand how another man who was supposed to love him could treat him like shit. He dug his phone from his bag.
“Did you send me a text?” Tyler pressed the keys to retrieve the messages. “Like within the last half hour?”
“No. I’ve been in class.” Allan tilted his head and met Tyler’s gaze. “Hey.” He tipped Tyler’s chin. “What’s going on? I’m serious. If someone is dicking with you, I want names. I hate seeing you upset.”
He hated to be upset. “If you weren’t messaging me then why’d I get these?” He turned his phone around. “I’m going to blow the whole team in order to pay off the cost to fix the car? Seriously? Tell me that’s not you.”
“It’s not.” Allan shook his head and eased the phone from Tyler’s hands. “I didn’t send these. My name and number are there, but these aren’t from me.” He fished in his pocket. “I thought I had my phone on me. Let me get it.” He strolled away long enough to retrieve the device then rejoined Tyler in the alcove. “See?”
Tyler glanced down at the screen but wasn’t convinced. “You could’ve deleted them.” Jesus. He hated to distrust Allan, but after being burned by Blake and his family so many times, he just couldn’t go through the wringer again.
“The whole thread? Why? The others are here.” He swiped up and down the list of messages. “Wait. They aren’t here. The dirty texts I sent you, your replies. It’s all gone.” He continued to shake his head and flip through the screens. “Where are they? I didn’t do any updates. What the hell?”
“I’d say the messages are gone.” Tyler shoved his phone into his back pocket. He’d had enough. “I’m sorry, but I don’t buy it.” He’d jumped to a conclusion, but damn it, something didn’t feel right about the whole situation. Things had happened too fast between him and Allan. They’d clicked too well. Was he being played? He wanted to trust Allan and believe he’d found the man who loved him, but his heart wasn’t ready.
“Ty?” Allan’s eyes widened. “Why would I send something like that? You’re my boyfriend and I love you. I don’t want to share you.”
“No?” Uncertainty filled his brain. He sucked in a ragged breath and exhaled. He wanted to slow down and speak rationally but pure emotion took over. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I thought I could trust you. After what Blake put me through, I’m not ready to be someone’s bitch again. If that’s what you wanted, I’m sorry. If it’s not and this is a big fuck up, then I’m not sure what to say. What I do know is that my heart is in pieces. I can’t do this.” He shook his head. “Just—don’t call me, okay? Leave me alone.”
“You’re pissed and I understand. Please stay and talk to me. Don’t shut me out.” Allan touched Tyler’s arm but didn’t stop him. “Please?”
“Not right now.” Tyler left him in the alcove and wandered across campus to his dorm. He needed to be alone. Maybe Allan hadn’t sent the texts. The chance was good Allan had told him the truth, but still. His heart couldn’t take the beating.
He headed to his room and tossed his bag onto the desk. He locked the door and flopped onto his bed. He couldn’t hide forever, but if he laid low until practice, he wouldn’t hurt anything. The pain from Blake’s betrayal, as well as the aches he’d buried from his past, came to the surface. Now he had to deal with whatever Allan had done. How’d he manage to attract such negativity? He’d thought he was a good man, a decent boyfriend and willing lover. Apparently he’d overestimated himself. Why is life so cruel sometimes?
* * * *
Allan sank onto the chair and stared at the doors to the astronomy building. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Tyler had left. There was a chance the relationship wasn’t over, but he wasn’t convinced. Tyler didn’t offer up his heart easily and if he’d felt betrayed he wouldn’t trust right away—if ever.
“What was that all about?” Nathan asked. “I thought you and Ty were strong.” He drummed his pen on the notebook cover.
“We were.” He closed his book and rested his hands on the worn surface. “I don’t understand. He had all these messages. I never sent them.”
“Did you forget? Maybe you were drunk texting?” Nathan snorted. “Hell, we’ve all done that. Drunk dialed, drunk texted… Give him time and let him cool down. He’ll understand.”
“I drunk texted during class? I haven’t had a drink since practice started. You know me. I don’t do parties or drink until after the season’s over.” Other than sex with Tyler—which wasn’t bad at all—he treated his body like a temple and kept himself clean.
Nathan shrugged. “Beats me. Did you lose your bag? Give your phone to someone? Do an update that fucked it all up?”
“I thought I had my phone with me and my backpack within view the whole time.” Nothing made sense. How could he send a text to Ty without knowing? “Can someone hack your phone and send remote messages?”
“I have no idea. Half the time I can’t figure out how to transfer music onto my phone without buying the shit.” Nathan toyed with the zipper on his backpack. He frowned and his brow crinkled. “Wait.” He pointed to Allan’s backpack. “What if it was a mistake?”
Allan rolled his eyes. “According to what I read, my phone sent Ty a message that I expected him to blow the entire team. That’s not a mistake. I’d remember that.”
“No.” Nathan picked at the zipper. “Your backpack is exactly like mine.”
“So? Half the bags on campus look alike. What’s your point?” He hated to get short with Nathan but he didn’t see the problem.
“I might have started this inadvertently.” Nathan massaged his temples and shook his head. “Blake asked me if I had an extra pen. Something about he’d lost his. I told him I had a few extras and to dig one out of the front flap of my bag. Blake only talks to me when he wants something or he has no one else to talk to. You don’t think he’d try to send something to Ty? I know they had a pretty fucked-up relationship, but he seemed to be okay with you dating Ty.”
“That asshat wouldn’t think twice about dicking with Tyler.” The more he thought about the messages, he realized only Blake had the motivation to ruin not only Tyler’s love life, but his self-esteem. He packed his things up and jumped from his seat a second time. “I need to go.”
“Figured it out?” Nathan shoved in his chair. “Blake? Dude, I’m sorry. If I’d known he’d do something like this, I wouldn’t have—I don’t know, but I’d have kept out of it.”
“I’m not sure it was him, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to sit back and let him screw with Tyler.” He’d be willing to bet Blake was already back at the dorms and hanging around Tyler’s hallway. He’d find a way to worm into Tyler’s space. The man had no scruples.
Allan waved to his friend and broke into a sprint. He needed to hurry. His love life couldn’t wait another minute. Tyler mattered way too much to screw around. He bounded up the stairs to Tyler’s floor and when he reached Tyler’s room, he pounded on the door.
“Ty? Please?” He rested his head against the worn wooden surface and fought the urge to scream. He couldn’t be sure Blake was at the root of the problem, but he also wouldn’t put something so nasty past Tyler’s ex. He flattened his palm on the door. “Ty, babe, I don’t know if you’re in there, but if you are I hope you’ll listen. I’m not putting up with this. If I have to work forever to prove how I feel about you, I will.”
He waited for what seemed like an eternity and listened for any movement on the other side of the door. When he didn’t get a response, he pushed off the door frame and shook his head. He couldn’t prove Blake was the texter, but he could talk to his coach. When each player had agreed to play for the Mustangs, they’d signed a contract stating they would be upstanding citizens. According to what he remembered, being an upstanding citizen meant to stay out of trouble and to serve
as a role model in the community. Blake was far from a model player and citizen.
Allan left the dorms and headed to practice. He’d switch into his pads later. First, he needed to speak to the coach. Ten minutes later, he walked into the sports facility and in the direction of the coach’s office.
Coach Turner strolled through the large double doors and grinned. “Just the man I’ve been looking for.”
“Same here. Can we talk?” Allan gripped his bag. “I need to run something by you.”
“Sure.” Coach fell into step beside Allan and escorted him to his office. “Scouts are here this afternoon. I’ve told anyone who will listen about your skill now that you’re a returner. Your speed and agility, Al. The scouts like what they see.”
“Oh good.” He’d forgotten all about having an audience during practice. He’d focused so much on Tyler.
“Now.” Coach sat behind his desk. The chair creaked. “Are you worried about the scouts? Or do you have a suggestion for how to better tailor a couple of the plays to your running style?”
He shook his head and sat on the plastic chair across the desk from the coach. “I’m still working on the plays—those are fine and I’m not worried about the scouts. Honestly, I’d forgotten they were watching.”
“Don’t get too cocky, but focusing on the game is the right thing to do.”
“Yeah.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Remember the good citizen clause in our contract to play? We’re supposed to behave and not embarrass the college, right?”
“That’s the center of it, yes. Why?”
He hesitated. If he spoke up about Blake and was wrong about the texts, he’d screw Blake over. But if he kept quiet and more happened, he risked losing the relationship with Tyler. “There’s a member of the team… He’s making trouble for other members.”
Coach folded his arms and rested his forearms on the desk. “Let me guess—Jackson? Or Fields?”
“Jackson.” He pressed his lips together. Although down in his gut he knew he was doing the right thing, he still hated to nark on a fellow player. “I can’t be certain, but ever since he and Tyler Leigh split, Blake’s made Tyler’s life miserable. Texts were sent to Tyler saying I expected him to give the entire team a blow job in payment for my father fixing Tyler’s car. I never sent such a text, but Blake would.”
Coach sighed. “I’ll look into it. The staff and I don’t take harassment of any kind lightly. Thank you.”
He should’ve felt better, but he still hadn’t smoothed things over with Tyler. By the time Allan walked into the locker room, the rest of the team was already out on the practice field. He dressed in silence and yanked his pads over his head. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach increased when he spotted Tyler. He didn’t want to lose the man who very well could be the great love of his life, and all over a text.
For the first half of practice, he worked with the special teams unit on returns. He thundered up and down the field, running out his frustrations. Each time he glanced over at Tyler, his heart ached. At least he was there, but Tyler didn’t have a spring in his step.
Allan strode down the field and assumed his position for the next practice return. As he waited for Tyler to punt the ball, his anger hit its zenith. Tyler deserved more and he refused let Tyler be hurt any more. He fixated on the ball as it sailed toward him. Once he caught the football, Allan surveyed the situation on the field. If he kept to his left initially, he’d gain major yardage. He took off and pivoted around two tacklers. For whatever reason, most of the defense stayed on the opposite side of the field—except Blake and Devan. Both men stood directly in his run path.
His conscience screamed for him to stay out of their way. Too bad the rest of him wasn’t in agreement. He barreled down the field and collided with Blake. When he and Blake fell, Devan ended up at the bottom of the pile. Grunts and groans filled the air. Apparently, they hadn’t anticipated the tackle. Oh well.
“What the hell, Clark?” Blake shoved against Allan. “Get off.”
“Did the text give you wood?” Allan snarled. “Make you feel like a man for saying something so shitty?”
“What the fuck?” Blake snapped the words out, but his eyes widened. He must’ve figured Allan wouldn’t find out.
“Stuck it to Ty, didn’t you, when you used my phone. Sure got a rise out of him.” Allan kept the ball in his hand but used his free arm to push off Blake as he scrambled to his feet.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Blake stood and brushed himself off. “You’re delusional.”
Allan tossed the ball to the nearest coach. He wasn’t done with Blake or Devan. He marched up to Blake and ripped his helmet off. “I know it was you. Why? I don’t do ménages.”
“Prove it.” Blake rolled his eyes. “You’re full of shit.”
“Yeah,” Devan added.
“Oh, I can prove it. Phone records.” Well, he hoped he could with phone records. Didn’t the cop shows on television used that very tactic all the time? “One call and I can find out everything.” He started walking away but paused. “By the way, Coach Turner knows what you did. Doesn’t look good if the star quarterback is harassing other players on the team. Scouts hate that.”
“Clark. Jackson. Fields. Break it up.” Coach Turner waved his tablet at them. “We’ve got plays to run and scouts watching. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” Allan nodded and wandered back downfield. He’d made his point. He’d also given the scouts plenty to consider. He was a team player, but he also didn’t take insults kindly—although the scouts wouldn’t know that detail. They’d just see determination and grit on the field.
After practice, Allan suffered through interviews by the media and a couple of scouts. The general consensus was that he’d played hard and kept racking up points. Three professional teams expressed interest in him and wanted interviews after the season concluded. He chuckled. The Mustangs weren’t going to advance very far in the post-season. They had too many bigger schools to play at in the last three games. Even if they won all the games leading to the last three, they’d probably only finish at .500 for the season.
Allan watched the players in the locker room as he gave the interviews. Tyler wandered in and out of the room but didn’t linger at his stall or head into the showers. The idea of going back to the dorms smelling like the funk of practice wasn’t high on Allan’s list but he had to catch up to Tyler.
As quickly as the interviews had begun, the media and scouts moved on to other players. Allan thanked God and kicked out of his cleats. He shoved the pads and practice jersey into his locker then grabbed his bag. He needed to make up time if he wanted to stop Tyler.
“You fucking got me benched.” Blake stepped in Allan’s way, blocking him from leaving the sports facility. “Benched for the next two goddamn games. Devan, too.”
“So? Don’t send shitty ass texts.” He brushed past Blake, but Blake grabbed his arm. “Let me the fuck go.”
“I’m being scouted. They want to see me play,” Blake snarled. “Tell Coach it was a mistake.”
“The hell I will.” He switched his gaze between Blake and Devan. “You hurt someone I care about and you used me to do it. That’s bullshit. Just because you fucked up your chance to play doesn’t mean I’m lying to help your ass out. Fuck you.”
“Christ.” Devan threw his bag across the foyer and growled. “Dumb ass.”
Allan stood toe to toe with Blake. He refused to back down.
“What the hell were you thinking, Blake? Fucker. You told me you’d moved on from Tyler.” Devan rushed back to where Blake stood and collided with him. “Asshole. You said it was just us now.”
Realization washed over Allan. He’d always sort of guessed Blake and Devan were a pair, but he understood the hurt in Devan’s voice. The man was tired of being Blake’s sidekick. Devan had his moments where he could be a jerk, but he deserved better than to be punished because Blake couldn’t make up his mi
nd.
“Okay,” Allan said and dragged Devan off Blake. “We’re all aware Blake’s an ass.” He helped Devan to his feet.
“I loved you, dickhead.” Devan thrust his fingers into his hair and turned his back on Blake. “Fucking loved you, but you couldn’t see it.”
Blake braced himself on his elbows and stared at Devan. He didn’t say anything, but his mouth opened and closed.
“Well.” Allan slung his bag over his shoulder and strolled away from Devan and Blake. He had the feeling, no matter what the coaches or scouts said, Blake’s punishment by Devan would leave the deepest impression.
Allan climbed into his car and drove as fast as he could within the speed limits, in order to return to the dorms. Ten minutes later, he pulled into the student lot in the spot next to Tyler’s car. He left the bag in the trunk and only grabbed his wallet, keys and phone before he locked up and sprinted into the building. He didn’t bother with the elevators. Taking them two at a time, he bounded up the stairs to Tyler’s floor.
When he stopped at Tyler’s place, he braced himself on the wall. He tried to gather his breath, but after the jog up the stairs and the sprinting he’d worn himself out. He pounded on the door.
“Tyler.” Allan rested his forehead against the metal frame. “Please? Open up.” He wasn’t sure Tyler would even listen to him but he had to try. “Ty?”
The knob twisted and the door opened a crack. “Allan, just don’t.”
“Give me a second? Just a second. I can explain.” He didn’t try to push his way into the room. He needed Tyler to trust him—if trust were possible.
Tyler sighed and shook his head, but he opened for him. “Come in. Can’t do much more damage than was already done.”
Allan wobbled into Tyler’s room and collapsed onto the bed. His legs ached from the workout at practice and the running afterward. He closed his eyes long enough to regain his bearings.
