Crossing the Touchline

by Jay Hogan

  A valid point and one I had no reasonable answer for. I couldn’t help a cagy glance around the car park once again, and he noted it with impatience. But I couldn’t bring myself to walk away either. Couldn’t do anything more than just stare at him, as it turned out.

  His gaze softened. “I don’t… think badly of you. I’m sure there’s a story there, but it’s just not one I need to hear. Got it? So maybe it’s best if you leave.”

  I sighed. “Okay.” And yet I didn’t. Shuffled my feet, sure, but no actual walking involved.

  He stared at me as if I was just shy of a fucking lunatic. Then he rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fuck. All right, one coffee.” He held up a finger. “One.” He cocked his head and narrowed his gaze to drive the point home.

  My heart skittered in my chest, and I nodded vigorously. “Absolutely. One coffee.”

  He dropped his head back and groaned. “I cannot believe I’m doing this.” He pushed off the car. “Grind It Out. You know it?”

  I nodded. It was a hip little café in St Heliers, right on the beach. I’d been a couple of times with Georgie, not a place the team frequented, a deliberate choice on Cam’s part, I suspected. Wasn’t sure how I would’ve explained it to a teammate, not when I couldn’t fucking explain it myself.

  “Be there in an hour.” He strode around to the driver’s door. “Christ, I need my head read,” he said, not quite under his breath. “Now get lost before my brother reams my arse for chatting up the talent… again.”

  I spun to find Mathew Wano barely metres away, wearing a scowl the size of the blush on my cheeks. “Hey, Mathew,” I greeted him a little too cheerfully. Nope, nothing suspicious here. “I was just thanking Cam for helping with Cory the other day.”

  He glanced slowly between the two of us before throwing his kit in the back seat. “Yeah, he’s good like that, my brother.” He eyeballed Cam. “Always keen to give a guy a hand.”

  Cam snorted and slid into the driver’s seat.

  Mathew turned and slapped me on the shoulder. “See you Thursday, Taylor. And bring your talent with you this time, huh?” He grinned.

  I took the ribbing without offence. Mathew was one of the good guys. I waved them off and headed for my car, doing everything in my power not to fucking skip. I was an hour away from having coffee with Cameron fucking Wano. Ugh. Crap. I was in so much trouble.

  Chapter Five

  Cam

  SITTING AT an outside table at the impossibly hip café, I cursed myself yet again for being stupid enough to agree to this—whatever this was with Reuben. What it wasn’t was a date. What the hell was I thinking?

  A young female server hovered alongside to take my order while I flip-flopped between the toasted cheese on sourdough and the caramel tart.

  “So, the toasted cheese, then?” she prompted.

  I screwed up my nose. “Nah. I’ve always been partial to a bit of tart. I’ll go with that.”

  She laughed and threw me a wink. “One tasty tart coming right up.”

  I replied with my best eye roll. “If only.”

  She snorted and headed for the kitchen while I stretched back in my chair and scanned the street for… holy fuck. My gaze zeroed in on a familiar combo of blond hair and droolworthy muscles strolling down the sidewalk, eyes locked on mine. He’d changed into a relaxed pair of dark grey shorts and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up. The shorts shouldn’t have been remotely sexy, except with thighs like that, they were probably a lot more fitting than intended, and the potential implied in those tightly muscled forearms to hold a willing body against a wall or for any number of nefarious deeds wasn’t entirely lost on me either.

  A quick glance confirmed Reuben’s arrival hadn’t been missed by the women close by either, and not surprisingly my own dick perked up and stretched to say hello. All a reminder of why this was a bad, bad idea. I reached my hand across the table to greet him. He took it without hesitation and pumped it firmly. I willed my mind to not go there, but… yeah, fail.

  “Thanks for this.” He took the seat next to me rather than the one opposite. I sent him a rather pointed look, but he ignored me, going so far as to stretch his legs out and brush my knee in the process. I rolled my eyes. It was his funeral. I had nothing on the line here.

  Refusing to linger on his megawatt smile, or the way it did funny things to my stomach, I pushed the menu his way instead. “Choose something.” I tapped my finger on the menu, then caught the server’s attention.

  She eyed Reuben with appreciation as she took his order. A latte and the cheese on sourdough. Go figure.

  “Good choice.” The girl’s eyes glinted. “Make sure he shares his tart.” She pointed her pencil my direction. “It’s delicious… or so I’m told.”

  The poor guy blushed bright red and nearly choked on his water.

  “You’re a wicked girl,” I scolded, “but indisputably correct.” Oh God, now I’m flirting with him. It seemed I had no filter when it came to this man.

  Reuben eyed me warily but said nothing.

  I tugged at my chair so we weren’t sitting quite so close, and schooled my expression into I’m-listening-but-not-interested. “You wanted to explain?” I nudged him. “One coffee, remember?”

  “Right.” He sighed. “One coffee.” He spun his water glass in slow circles on the table but said nothing.

  “Reuben?”

  “Sorry. As I said, Cory’s my brother’s kid. He’s four and the fucking cutest kid ever. But there’s a good chance he’s on the spectrum—at least we think he is. I figure you must know a bit about that?” He paused.

  That made sense. I knew the whole thing had felt familiar—the way Cory cried and hid his face. We had a few regulars to the ER and there was a strategy for handling them. Immediate admission, quiet room, minimal procedures. Little wonder my sudden appearance provoked the reaction it had.

  “The basics,” I answered. “And you said, probably?”

  “He’s never been assessed properly, but he’s showing a lot of the indicators, apparently.”

  I nodded. “It can be tough.” I understood, in my own way. Growing up was hard enough fully loaded with what was considered normal by the rest of society, something I’d also never been able to lay claim to.

  He seemed relieved at not having to explain too much further. “Pretty much. My brother’s a good guy, mostly. He’s great at what he does. Hell, no one knows his way around a bike like Craig. Mathew made the right decision with his Harley.”

  I nodded. “Good to hear.”

  The server brought our orders and checked there was nothing else we needed before leaving us to it. I broke off a forkful of tart and let the caramel melt on my palate while I waited for Reuben to continue. He took an absent bite of his glorified toastie, the melted cheese dripping in ribbons he had to dart his tongue around before licking his lips clean of grease. Not that I was staring…. Ugh. So sue me.

  The corners of his lips curled up in a knowing smirk. Bastard. “You were saying…?”

  He took another bite, making me wait until he finished before continuing. “I was saying my brother is a good enough guy and a great mechanic but as a father, not so much. Cory’s mum was a bit of a lost cause—she left the two of them and then overdosed. I didn’t know her well enough to speculate why she was like she was, and I’m probably being way too harsh, but I don’t feel particularly magnanimous towards her.”

  I glanced up before I could stop myself.

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I can use big words. I even know what they mean.”

  I held up my hands. “I never said a word.”

  “But you were thinking it.”

  Maybe. My turn to blush. “One coffee, remember?”

  He snorted. “Right. As I was saying, my brother tries at the whole father thing, but when the shit hits the fan, he just doesn’t have that instinct to put his kid first. It’s like he wasn’t in the room when that gene was handed out. He’s a selfish arsehole, and when Cory ge
ts difficult to manage, Craig simply checks out. Last weekend was a spectacular example of that.”

  Between bites of that damn drippy cheese thing, he went on to explain what had happened while I continued to pick at my tart, surreptitiously watching him bite and lick and chew. God help me.

  He finished, “But I’m not his father. I can’t be there all the time and it’s getting worse. To be honest, it scares the shit out of me, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  He looked wrung out, and I guiltily shook myself from my wanton focus on his mouth. The man’s genuine worry sparked something deeply protective in me. “What about his grandparents?”

  “On his mother’s side there’s just his grandfather. The guy is pushing for more access, but the whole family’s kind of shady, and I’m doing my best to discourage it. My mum died a few years ago from ovarian cancer, and as for my dad? Well, let’s just say Cory’s better off with Craig.”

  I nodded. “I gathered your dad wasn’t the most compassionate of people after his comments that first night in the car park.”

  Reuben shrugged and those magic silver eyes of his dulled a little. “It is what it is. Put mildly, Dad’s an arsehole. You think I’m in the closet just because of rugby?” He snorted. “My mum would probably have been okay with me, but Dad’s a raging bigot and wasn’t shy about using his fists when we were growing up.”

  Fuck. Yeah, my heart might have softened a little. I got it, I really did. But although I might have lucked out in the parent lottery, I doubted Reuben had been subject to half the shitstorm of crap I’d been put through in high school.

  I pushed a bit. “But you’re not a kid anymore, Reuben, and even rugby is softening around the whole gay thing. It’s probably more the fans than the players, right?”

  Reuben finished his cheese bread thingy, thank God, and sat back. “Maybe. But getting into the ABs is bad enough with all the damn media attention. Imagine adding gay to the mix? Let alone trying to date? Fuck. For all the management crows about having a safe team environment to welcome diversity, a gay player’s gonna ramp up the scrutiny and pressure on everyone. It’s got to make them think twice.

  “Besides it’s not really even about the ABs. It’s the lower divisions, and even high school that are the worst. Parents on the sidelines calling players homos, poofters, fags, and blouses, and referees often doing fuck all about it. Even in Super Rugby, they’re not crash-hot at protecting players from that shit. So by the time someone gets to the All Blacks, they’ve already got about ten years of closet experience behind them. Doesn’t exactly make it easy to come out. Not to mention being the first openly gay All Black. Known more for who you fuck than your rugby? The hell with that.”

  I took a moment to digest what he said. I’d had no choice in coming out and wasn’t particularly patient with those who I saw as having it easier. And Jesus, that was pretty crappy to admit. Made me as judgemental as the rest. I’d never had to come out to a close-knit team, let alone publicly to the nation, and then internationally. I’d possibly been a little dismissive. Damn.

  Reuben continued, “Having a son as an All Black would be a huge pride thing for my dad with his dickhead friends—he’s already frothing at the mouth in excitement. But having his son as a gay All Black, hell no. That would be the ultimate humiliation. He’d disown me, All Black or not. Not that I care two fucks about that. But since he owns Craig’s garage, chances are Craig and Cory would be forced out of my life too. Craig depends on Dad, and Dad knows what Cory means to me.”

  Reuben’s voice caught, and I almost grabbed his hand. Almost. “He’d really do that?”

  Reuben nodded. “No question. And I can’t abandon my nephew like that, not now. He’s gonna need extra help and that’s gonna cost—money they don’t have. Christ, he hasn’t even been assessed. Mostly because the whole idea freaks Craig out. He’d rather just pretend it isn’t happening and drink the problem away. But if I make it into the All Blacks long-term, there’s a lot more money in the extra sponsorship deals, and I should be able to make all that shit happen. But if I come out… well, you can guess the rest.”

  We sat quietly for a minute. The server checked if we needed a coffee refill, but we took water instead. Reuben handed her a twenty to pay and I pushed my half-finished caramel tart in his direction, fork upright in the middle.

  “Help yourself.”

  He slid me a sideways grin. “You gonna actually share that tart of yours? You sure about that?”

  I returned a sly grin of my own. “Let me assure you, Reuben Taylor, I have more than enough tart to go around.”

  “I stand assured, Cameron Wano.” He took the fork and ran it through his mouth to clean off the crumbs before taking a corner of the tart and wrapping his tongue and lips around it as he slowly slid it off. “Oh my God,” he mumbled around the mouthful, licking his lips. “This is freaking delicious.”

  I squirmed in my seat, wishing I hadn’t worn one of my tighter pairs of jeans. Actually, I didn’t have anything looser, but if I hung out with Reuben anymore, I was going to need to invest in a pair because… holy crap… watching him deal with the remaining tart agonisingly slowly, bite by tantalising bite, was like one of the best porno clips ever.

  Good lord, the guy was sexy as fuck without a single ounce of effort. And if that wasn’t enough, there was a crumb caught in the corner of his mouth that I absolutely needed to remove immediately, with at the very least my tongue, preferably after it had travelled the full length of that glorious body first. It was either that or incinerate in my seat.

  I compromised, running my thumb over the man’s full and eminently biteable lower lip in order to catch the damned thing. I know, I know. It sounded more legitimate in my head. He froze at my touch and I took the crumb and sucked it off the pad of my thumb in equally dramatic slow motion. Shut. Up.

  He swallowed hard before dragging his gaze up to my eyes, his pupils blown to edge out all but a faint line of mackerel-silver at their margins. The café noise faded into the background, leaving nothing but an electrically charged space hovering between us, and I swear I wanted nothing more than to shove him off that damned chair and crawl up his body so I could rub myself all over him before fucking him into oblivion.

  I was still considering the logistical options on that when Reuben leaned close.

  “Jesus Christ, Cam,” he hissed, dragging me out of my fantasy. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna come in my freaking shorts, right in the middle of this damn coffee shop, and that will be that. Reuben Taylor, outed by a freaking caramel tart.” He smiled.

  I blinked. “What? Oh… oops. Sorry.” And now I really needed to leave before I did something stupid like haul his arse back to my apartment and into my bed. “You just, um… well, you know….” I waved my hand aimlessly. “All those noises and shit. A boy can get caught up.”

  He stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. Well, I had, kind of. Not that he needed to know about that.

  Then he grinned. “You actually like me, don’t you?”

  I should have denied it but “Yeah, I do” popped out instead. Dammit. I needed to put a zip on that honesty shit. And now I really, really needed to leave.

  “But that little fact doesn’t change anything, Reuben.” And it didn’t. “I’m not hiding who I am, or who I date, for anyone. I never had a hope of fooling anyone. I was wearing my mum’s makeup in the third grade—put it on behind the school stage with a compact mirror I saved for out of my allowance. I didn’t have a believable closet to hide in, I’ve been out my whole life. My teenage years were a fucking shitshow and those were the good ones.”

  I waved my hand down my body. “This much fabulous didn’t come cheap. I’ve been called the worst names, beaten up, spat on, had my head shoved down a toilet, and humiliated. Mostly by a bunch of bigoted, homophobic, arsehole jocks, but also by closeted and curious gays who were often equally fucking desperate to shove their dicks down my throat.

  “The on
ly things on my side were great parents, a couple of friends who helped me pick up the pieces, and then finding the courage to finally use the damn self-defence my dad forced me to learn. That got me detention more times than I can count, and I was suspended from school twice, but it made the bullies cut me some slack and the push-back kept my head above water. I’m not judging your choices, Reuben, but you need to understand that I won’t get caught up in that again for anyone, no matter how cute.”

  He nodded slowly, and I saw the finality of my answer, and the reasons behind it, sink in. His expression reflected disappointment, but also understanding. Good. At last.

  “I’m sorry you went through that.”

  I waved my hand. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault. It is what it is. I just wanted you to understand that I’ve fought to claim who I am, and I’m not hiding it again.” Damn. I hadn’t meant to suggest I’d done it before.

  He nodded sharply. “You shouldn’t. You deserve someone who’s proud of every beautiful part of you. I’m just sorry it won’t be me. You don’t know how sorry.”

  Holy hell. I counted to ten so I didn’t cave and agree to anything he wanted provided he shoved his tongue in my mouth pronto. We’d only shared a couple of kisses and a fleeting grope, so why the hell did it feel like we were breaking up?

  He looked at me sideways. “Do you, um… think we could maybe do the friends thing instead?”

  Ugh. I cocked an eyebrow his way. “Really? Jesus Christ, Reuben. Look at us. We can barely sit across from each other over a coffee without self-combusting from the innuendo alone.”

  He snorted. “Fair point. But the truth is, I could really do with a friend. Today has been… well, fuck, it’s been amazing. Just talking to someone who gets it, you know? I’ve never had that. I mean, my best friend, Georgie, is great and all, but she’s still….”

  “Straight?”

  He paused. “Yeah. I promise to behave, but I’ll understand completely if you don’t think you can do it.” He sent me a pair of lash-fluttering puppy-dog eyes to rival a basset hound.