Up and Coming (Coastal College Football Book 1)

by Felix Brooks

  Maybe he was just more serious than most guys his age. One-offs could be fun, but that wasn’t really what he was looking for. For one thing, as a biochem major, he knew way too much about infectious diseases to take casual sex lightly. Plus, he was the poster boy for unintended consequences, which his grandma never let him forget.

  It wasn’t like she resented his existence or anything. He couldn’t have grown up in a more loving home. But she had made a lot of sacrifices because his parents weren’t equipped to raise a child on their own. The life she’d had wasn’t the one she would have chosen. And while she usually bore it with grace, there were times when the weight of her responsibilities got to her.

  She didn’t take it out on Jake. But he hated seeing the pressure she was under.

  If nothing else, he had an obligation to her to not screw up. He didn’t want all the sacrifices she’d made to be for nothing. She’d given up a career as an archeologist to stay home with her family. She’d traded field work for a quiet life writing adventure romance set in the jungles of Mexico and South America. The summer he was sixteen, she’d taken him to Machu Picchu, just the two of them. It was amazing, and he could see in the way her eyes shone how much she loved it, and how much she missed that life.

  Jake owed her, and he wouldn’t let her down.

  “Eleven months,” he said to Amber. “I’ll be on the other side of the country, living my dream, maybe traveling into The Castro on the weekends. I’ll meet the right guy. I just need to hold out until then.”

  “Fingers crossed,” she said, “for you and me both.”

  ***

  Jake headed to the cafeteria. He saw Waseem across the room and walked that way. From the opposite direction, Emmett approached the table, tray in hand. He stopped short, eyes trained on Jake.

  “Okay if I join you?” Jake asked. Did Emmett not want him there? “If y’all are talking football, I can sit with Seth.”

  “S’okay,” Emmett said to him. “I…it’s good to see you.”

  Jake gave him a wary grin. Good to see him? It had only been, like, two days. But whatever. Emmett was happy to see him, and he’d take it.

  Jake went through the line to get his lunch and returned to the table to find Brent Adams there, too. He took the only empty seat, across from Emmett, with Waseem and Brent on either side. Which was a good thing, because if Jake were next to Emmett, he’d be constantly fighting the urge to touch the guy.

  He imagined touching Emmett’s knee and snaking a hand up his thigh, finding his cock and giving it a good squeeze. He wanted him naked and on top of him, their mouths joined in hot, wet kisses, their dicks rubbing together. He could hear the low rumble of Emmett’s moans, feel the way his own body rippled at Emmett’s touch.

  He pulled himself out of the fantasy to see Emmett’s gaze on him. Heat crept over Jake’s cheeks and chest. Had he given himself away? Emmett was wearing a weird expression, eyes glazed and hooded, as if…

  As if Emmett had been thinking the same thing.

  No, that must be Jake’s imagination. Emmett was straight—he had dated the same girl for four years.

  Except…Emmett asked to come with Jake and Waseem to a gay bar. Could that mean something? Dudes didn’t exactly hang out with gay friends there every day, but it happened. And Emmett had always been an open-minded guy.

  So what was up with him? Was he curious? Questioning?

  A wicked smile crept over Jake’s face. There was one way to find out.

  He picked up a French fry and slid it into his mouth, tongue twirling around it. He expected Emmett to look away, but the guy didn’t. It was like he was mesmerized.

  Jake finished the fry and washed it down with his iced tea. Then he picked up another fry, dipped it in mayonnaise, and held it toward his lips, flicking the tip of his tongue toward the condiment before taking the whole thing in his mouth.

  Emmett didn’t moan, exactly. It wasn’t audible. But Jake could feel it like a vibration on his skin. A thrill rushed over him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The way Emmett was looking at him wasn’t casual.

  Waseem was chatting away like he always did, apparently oblivious, and Brent’s eyes were on Waseem. Jake was glad, because he wasn’t trying to pressure Emmett. If the guy wasn’t sure of what he was feeling, Jake wouldn’t force anything.

  But this was certainly an interesting development.

  Chapter 3

  Emmett wasn’t sure what he’d expected a gay bar to be like, but the Parrot wasn’t much different from any other bar—except for the guys dancing together or kissing in the corner. And it wasn’t like he’d never seen that sort of thing before—he hung out at the LGBT center with his friends sometimes. It was good that gay men had a place where they could be open. Shame they couldn’t be open everywhere.

  The light was dim, but muted spotlights showed off brightly colored murals: seascapes, treasure chests, a peg-legged pirate and his parrot companion. It was tacky but fun, setting the mood.

  The friends grabbed the only open table, a small round booth in the corner. Waseem was on the end, then Emmett, Jake, and Brent. There was room for the four of them, but just barely. They ordered martinis, except for Waseem, who was driving.

  Jake seemed nervous sandwiched in between Emmett and Brent. Brent was an intimidating guy, tribal tattoos dark against the tan skin of his upper arms. Dirty blond hair, green eyes, a cocky smile. He had the drive, the ambition to be the best. The guy wanted a pro career like Emmett, and Emmett intended to help him get there if he could.

  But poor Jake looked like he wanted to disappear into the cushioned seat. He was slumped down and staring at the tabletop. He wasn’t shy, exactly, but he was introverted. Waseem said Jake relied on him to start a conversation with the guys he met there. Which was sweet and endearing and made Emmett kind of want to hug him.

  Emmett would trade places with him, so he was next to Waseem, but they were stuffed tight into the booth. Besides, it was good for Jake to stretch out of his comfort zone.

  “Brent is a business major,” Emmett said to Jake.

  Jake turned to Brent. “Know what you want to do when you graduate?”

  “Football.”

  “What if that doesn’t pan out?”

  “It will.” Brent smirked at him, but his eyes were kind.

  After they finished their drinks, they hit the dance floor, but Emmett stayed behind to hold the table. A good-looking guy came over—West Indian accent, hair in dreads, gorgeous gray eyes—and didn’t even seem bothered when Emmett explained he was straight, and there with friends. They chatted a while.

  The guy’s melodious voice was captivating. He was a student at UNC Wilmington majoring in civil engineering, with plans to go back to the Virgin Islands when he graduated. At first, Emmett hung on every word, until he noticed Jake dancing with Brent. They weren’t touching or anything, but Jake’s eyes were shining, and he was obviously having a good time.

  A thread of anger pulled tight in Emmett’s stomach. Jake knew Brent was straight, right? If the guy was misleading him, Emmett would have something to say about it, no matter how good a wide receiver Brent was.

  His friends came back to the table. The guy with the dreads shook Emmett’s hand and started to take off. But Waseem asked him to dance, and they headed out to the floor.

  With Jake facing away from Emmett, he couldn’t hear what Jake was saying, but Brent replied, “When Emmett first suggested tonight, I wasn’t sure, but this is fun, hanging here with my boys.”

  Jake put an arm around Emmett. “Are we your boys?”

  Brent shrugged. “You are now.”

  “Cool.” Jake wagged his brows at Emmett, then pulled his arm away.

  A weird flood of emotions washed over Emmett: warmth at the contact, then emptiness when Jake pulled away. The muscles tightened in his neck and into his scalp. The alcohol was dehydrating him, and he flagged down a waiter for some water all around.

  He talked to Brent about
the upcoming game at State on Saturday, being sure to include Jake. “If we can pull this one off, it’ll look good on our record.”

  “On your record, you mean,” Brent said.

  Emmett grinned. “Well, yeah. But your record too.”

  “Will you be gone all weekend?” Jake asked, looking dejected, the corners of his mouth downturned.

  “Nah,” Emmett said. “It’s a three-hour drive. We’ll be back Saturday night in plenty of time to party.”

  Waseem and the guy he had been dancing with came back to the booth and squeezed in. “You guys,” Jake complained, “I’m practically sitting on Emmett.”

  Emmett went with it and pulled Jake up into his lap. It was a gay bar, so what the hell? Only Jake looked at him with a strange expression on his face. Emmett smiled playfully, and Jake relaxed.

  It was odd, though, how good Jake’s body felt against Emmett’s. He had his arm around the smaller man, because there was really nowhere else to put it, and it was comfortable. Emmett wasn’t used to that kind of intimacy with a man—honestly, he had thought it might be kind of creepy, but it wasn’t. A warm, happy glow rose in his chest, like nothing he’d felt before.

  Jake was still kind of rigid, so Emmett said in his ear, “It’s okay, I won’t bite.” Jake smiled and settled into him. Emmett tried to listen to the conversation—Brent was talking about some economics project—but all Emmett could think about was how good Jake smelled. Some citrusy hair product and clean, male musk. Emmett wanted to touch that hair, breathe him in, but he wasn’t that drunk.

  A shiver shot up his back as he realized he was hard. Could Jake feel that? The way he was sitting, probably not. He was on Emmett’s thigh, not his crotch, but his leg was draped over Emmett.

  And suddenly Emmett was acutely aware of Jake’s weight on his body, and how much he wanted to touch him. Jake was beautiful, with his blond hair and shining, pale blue eyes, his kind smile and sun-kissed skin. Emmett put his other arm around him and said in his ear, “You’re the hottest guy in here, you know that?”

  Jake looked at him all wide-eyed, and it was sexy as hell. Emmett had never thought about a man being sexy before, but Jake was. He fit Emmett’s body perfectly, and the thought did something weird to him. Emmett was hot all over, and he had a strange pulling feeling in his gut, like there was a line between the two of them that was tightening, drawing them together.

  Without even thinking about it, Emmett covered Jake’s lips with his own. Emmett had never kissed a man before, and it was softer than he imagined. Then Jake gripped him hard, his hand at the back of Emmett’s neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. The feel of his tongue against Emmett’s nearly made him come in his pants, especially the way Jake’s ass was writhing against him.

  Holy hell, the man knew how to give a kiss.

  A dam broke open in Emmett’s chest, followed by a flood of emotions he didn’t know were stored there. He wanted Jake, in every way it was possible to want someone. Joy, desire, excitement—they were coursing through him, a rushing mess he couldn’t control.

  Jake shifted and straddled Emmett, who wrapped his arms around him to help him keep his balance. Jake kissed him harder than ever. His razor stubble was rough against Emmett’s skin, and he loved it. He loved everything about the man.

  Emmett snaked his hands underneath Jake’s shirt, stroking the hot flesh of his back. Emmett wondered what it would be like to kiss him that way if they were both naked, their cocks rubbing together. Emmett grabbed Jake’s ass and pulled him close. The contact was electric, chest to chest, dick to dick, and Emmett realized he wanted this. He had never wanted a man before, but he wanted Jake.

  Jake pulled back and said, “You okay with this?”

  Emmett smiled and said in his ear, “More than okay.”

  Jake gave him a wide smile and went back to kissing him.

  At some point, Emmett realized they were still in the bar, making an obscene spectacle of themselves. He didn’t worry too much, because they weren’t the only ones. Brent had moved—pulled up a chair on the other side of the table. Emmett felt kind of bad about that, because now he was a fifth wheel. But then Jake’s hungry mouth pulled Emmett’s attention back to him.

  After another hard, wet kiss, Jake said, “We should get out of here. I’ve got lube and condoms at my place.”

  Emmett swallowed, looking into that expectant face. His chest fell. Of course he thought this was leading to sex. With any normal guy, it would be. But Emmett…Emmett didn’t know what he was.

  His body was hot all over. He had no idea how he got into this situation, or where these emotions had come from. But Jake—he deserved better than this, better than a guy who never had feelings for a man before, and who’d only be experimenting.

  Emmett broke away. “Need to take a piss,” he said, which he realized was true. Stumbling out of the booth, he headed toward the men’s room—only to find it locked. Of course it is. He considered pounding on the door, but realized the two dudes fucking inside would only take longer to finish if he did.

  He rushed out the front of the bar to get some fresh air. He started walking, more to stretch his legs than anything else. But when he saw a cab, he waved it down. Once inside, he texted Waseem.

  It was a cowardly thing to do, but he couldn’t face Jake right now. Maybe not ever.

  Chapter 4

  Sunday afternoon, Jake spent three hours in the library on a reading assignment that should only have taken an hour. He couldn’t concentrate for shit. How did he get the signals crossed with Emmett the night before? The way the guy was rubbing against him at the bar, Jake might have come right there if he hadn’t stopped Emmett. But as soon as Jake mentioned sex, Emmett was gone.

  So what was all that face sucking about, if Emmett wasn’t into him?

  The night before, Jake had been hurt. Now he was just pissed. Running off like that, without a word, was a shitty way to treat a stranger, much less a friend. Or maybe he and Emmett weren’t friends. Maybe that was all wishful thinking on Jake’s part.

  Sure, he got it. Athlete hiding in the closet. Old story, and frankly, one he didn’t want to be part of.

  So why did Jake’s chest hurt so bad every time he remembered that kiss? Why did he melt whenever he thought about that cocky smile, or the way Emmett’s strong arms had held him? Nothing had ever felt that perfect. For a few short minutes, Jake thought maybe they were on the brink of something special. It was hard enough wanting Emmett before Jake knew what it would be like to have him. But that small taste had made everything worse.

  He walked back to his room and flung himself onto the bed, a headache crushing his skull. He’d had way too much to drink the night before. If he hadn’t, maybe he would have kept his wits about him where Emmett was concerned. But who was he kidding—he could never have resisted that kiss. Not when he’d been lusting after Emmett for years. Emmett was his dream guy, and nothing so far had let Jake forget the man. How much worse would it be now?

  His phone sounded, telling him he had a text. He considered ignoring it, but his curiosity got the better of him. His heart jumped when he saw Emmett’s name.

  He opened the text with fumbling fingers. Can I come over? Need to talk about last night.

  Hope surged through his chest. Maybe now that Emmett had had a chance to think about it…

  Sure, Jake texted back. He told himself to keep it together, that Emmett probably just wanted to clear the air.

  Jake wanted so badly for it to be more.

  He paced, waiting for Emmett to show, wondering how close the guy was when he sent the text. If he had sent it from the frat house, it’d be at least ten minutes.

  And the longest ten minutes of Jake’s life stretched to fifteen. Finally, footsteps and a knock.

  He threw open the door. Emmett looked tired, drawn, like maybe he was regretting drinking so much, too. Even so, Jake wanted to throw him on the bed and have his wicked way with him. Because Emmett on a bad day was better than mos
t people on a good one. Those strong cheekbones and full, soft lips made Jake’s stomach flutter.

  Emmett stepped inside, walking heavily, and closed the door. He didn’t reach for Jake or anything, just stared at the floor. “Sorry I was a dick last night.”

  “I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t talk to me.” Jake meant it to sound supportive, not accusing, but it ended up sounding a little bit of both, and he winced.

  Emmett ran his hand across his close-cropped hair. “I wasn’t expecting what happened. I’m still trying to make sense of it. It never occurred to me I might be gay. Or bi…whatever. I just know that ever since Tawna and I broke up, I haven’t been interested in anyone. Male or female. Not until you.”

  Jake swallowed. “You haven’t been with anyone since Tawna?”

  Emmett scratched his head and shuffled his feet. “Dating is just not a thing I have time for. I’m training to be a professional athlete. It’s all-encompassing, and with classes on top of it…”

  He hung his head, looking more miserable than Jake had ever seen him. Jake wanted to reach out, soothe the sadness, but he couldn’t. It was pretty evident by now that Emmett wasn’t here to pick up where they had left off the night before. As much as Jake’s fingers ached to touch that smooth skin again, to feel the resistance of those steely muscles, he wasn’t willing to open himself up to that longing.

  “I like you, Jake,” Emmett said at last. “I wish I could pursue this, but I can’t. Pro football is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I can’t give up a dream I’ve had my whole life because of one kiss. Even if it was an amazing kiss.”

  “I understand.” And Jake meant it, he did. A pro career could mean millions, and he couldn’t ask Emmett to risk that for him. Jake wouldn’t even want him to.

  “Friends, then?” Emmett asked with a smile.