Love Is In the Title

by RJ Scott

  Love Is In The Title

  The Love Is… series – Book 1

  RJ Scott

  Copyright 2011 by RJ Scott

  Smashwords Edition

  First eBook publication: June 2011

  Editors: Devin Govaere & Liz Bichmann

  Cover design by RJ Scott

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:

  This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Love Is In The Title

  RJ Scott

  * * * * *

  For all those who have made this possible.

  For my family, always.

  "HOLSTON!"

  Luke groaned to himself. He was positive he had another five minutes of his break before he needed to be back behind the counter. All he wanted to do was make this one simple phone call. Five more minutes. Just five. The cell was tucked neatly between ear and shoulder, and he concentrated on remembering exactly what he wanted to say. Tonight’s song choice was so perfect he couldn’t have planned it better, the title and lyrics so damn spot-on surely Cameron

  "Football Captain" Anders was bound to get the connection this time.

  Westmoreland High School kids had the tradition of frequenting the diner, and this year was Cameron’s year for his group to take the booth in the corner.

  Always the same booth for the jocks, a mix of teammates, cheerleaders and buddies. Cameron was currently in the diner, at that table, drowning his sorrows in Coke Zero. A ten point defeat at the hands of the Tigers from Ambleside tonight was the second loss in three. The pressure on the captain was intense. He had to deal with students shouting at him in the hallways, their voices filled with irritation and disappointment. Cameron was the person pupils at the school and fans alike looked to for results; and the Westmoreland Anvils had experienced nothing but bad luck the last few games after a very promising start to the season.

  The game before the one tonight had been a debacle, with bickering, in-fighting, and even two guys benched for badmouthing the referee. Tonight’s game had clearly gone badly. Cameron had arrived at the diner half an hour before, looking so miserable it made Luke want to walk up and hug him. In fact, every single minute Cameron had spent in the diner over the last month had left Luke wanting to reassure him everything would be okay. He always looked so down now. So worried and so quiet. When their eyes met for any reason, Luke could swear there was the suspicion of tears in the other boy’s eyes.

  The diner constantly had the Late Show with Roscoe playing in the background. His boss said it was for the variety of music; Luke often thought it was because the tight-fisted Italian got the music for free that way. The kids who spent their money in the café didn’t seem to mind the choice of show. Roscoe was a good DJ, and his Friday Night request show was usually pretty decent. A lot of the time, people were quieter so they could hear who was requesting what for whom, and the music could actually be heard clearly.

  "Coming!" Luke knew his response would delay his name being shouted to the rooftops for at least another thirty seconds, enough time to request the right song for Cameron.

  "WXKV C’Ville, how can I help you, caller?" came the mildly disinterested voice at the end of the line.

  "I’d like to request a song for the late show," Luke began then waited for the familiar uh huh and the connecting you.

  "Hello, caller, you are through to Martha at the Late Show with Roscoe, what is your request?"

  "‘Don’t Stop Believin’, by Journey," Luke answered quickly. He was too pushed for time to use the niceties his momma had drummed into him.

  "What’s your name, caller?" They asked the same question every time.

  Always with the name, like Luke was magically going to blurt it to the second highest rated radio show downtown for them to publicly announce to the masses.

  "Holston," his boss’s voice echoed into the small room, and Luke rapidly covered the receiver for fear they would hear at the other end. Hunching protectively over the cell, he answered the question.

  "Anonymous," he said, "but can you say the request is from someone who cares?"

  "Okay, caller, thank you."

  Luke dropped the connection and slipped the cell back in his pocket.

  Anticipation churned inside him. He wished with everything in him tonight would be the night Cameron realized Anonymous was tall, skinny, and verging-on-nerdy Luke Holston from math class. That the built-like-a-brick-outhouse football player would finally see Luke. See him as someone other than the guy who served him Coke and fries on a Friday night. Of course, with Cameron being straight and all, it was difficult to see anything coming of it, but Luke was tired of not being able to share how he felt. It was almost worth getting beaten up just so someone else knew. Someone other than Mitchell, his best and, mostly, only friend.

  In Luke’s wildest dreams, Cameron connected the music playing in the background of the diner to him. Cameron would then suddenly—and inexplicably—admit he was not into girls at all and was one hundred percent, completely, totally gay. Sweeping Luke into his arms and kissing the life out of him was one of five really excellent possible conclusions to the whole fantasy.

  Realistically, despite being three months younger than Cameron, Luke was built more like a basketball player than a football player and stood at least five inches taller than Cameron. Actual sweeping might prove to be difficult by any stretch of Luke’s fevered eighteen-year-old imagination. However, Luke didn’t let little details hinder his dreams.

  Anticipation curling in his stomach, he focused on his daydreams as he tied his apron on and resumed his spot behind the counter. He ignored the evil looks thrown his way by the boss, Tony of "Tony’s Diner" fame. They were for the transgression of, for once, taking his full fifteen-minute break. His gaze drifted over to the table in the corner, the jock table, the one where the acknowledged annual king of the school held court.

  Cameron hadn’t even smiled his polite smile at Luke tonight when he arrived and had basically slumped miserably in the booth once he’d reached it.

  Cameron’s best friend, Dan, slid in opposite him and gestured for the table’s usual order of Cokes and fries. Luke nodded; he could handle that with his eyes shut.

  Dan was a good guy for the most part and a close friend to Cameron. He was the exact opposite of the other football players, guys who shoved each other as much as the door when they tramped in, noisy and undisciplined and verging on intolerably rude. They were all self-entitled asshole idiots not worth Luke’s time, and all those who had accompanied their captain to the diner had quickly disappeared en masse in a borrowed truck boasting about beer and girls.

  Glancing surreptitiously at Cameron, Luke watched the only one who had stayed, Dan, lean in, his arm going around Cameron’s back. There was a friendly hug and whispered words between them. Luke looked away quickly, not wanting to be caught staring.

  Jealously rose in him at the intimate ease with which Dan was touching Cameron. Jeez. Luke had it bad; he wanted to be the one sitting next to Cameron.

  Not the one stuck behind this freaking counter.

  Matters didn’t improve when Luke’s best friend since grade school, one Mitchell Keyes, arrived. He was on the football team as well. A jock, yes, but one of those weird and highly rare combinations of athlete wit
h a nerd streak a mile wide. Mitchell didn’t need to work the freaking graveyard shift at Tony’s; he could saunter in, annoy Luke, talk balls with Cameron and the others on the football team, and then leave. Damn Mitchell and his absent, yet enormously wealthy parents for giving the spiky-haired boy an obscenely large allowance. At least Luke would have someone to talk to now that his friend had arrived.

  What the hell? Mitchell just waved an absent hello and didn’t come over to talk to Luke. Instead, he walked straight to Cameron’s table, simply sliding in opposite Cam and leaning in to talk. It wasn’t fair! Mitchell shouldn’t be able to snuggle up opposite Luke’s right hand fantasy. Irrational jealousy fought with a rising anger. Football or not, Mitchell was Luke’s best friend; and he’d done nothing more than give a simple wave in Luke’s general direction when he’d walked in. Luke narrowed his gaze as Mitchell looked up with the typical wide-eyed innocence he did so well.

  Mitchell and Cameron did some complicated hand bump thing and then Mitchell left the booth. He climbed one of the stools at the counter, his usual space, to talk to Luke. Tony always opened his mouth to stop them socializing, but inevitably didn’t go any further. The cash register in his head was probably ringing when Mitchell casually slid thirty dollars onto the counter. No one said a thing. Luke never stopped working, or serving and Mitchell never drank thirty dollars' worth of Coke or coffee or milkshake, or whatever it was he ordered.

  Luke had known Mitchell far too long to resent Mitchell’s casual spending of enough money to cover Luke’s salary for the night. His friend never did anything with malicious intent, and they had been best friends forever, since way before Mitchell’s dad became a highly paid lawyer.

  How could he ever resent Mitchell? Mitchell with the soft, warm smile and the whole laid-back attitude to life he carried around with him. Except, recently, resentment had started to creep in. It wasn’t Mitchell’s fault he didn’t need to work a graveyard shift at the diner. It wasn’t Mitchell’s fault he chose to spend his downtime with his friends here where Luke worked. It wasn’t Mitchell’s fault Cameron, also a son of one of the town’s wealthier families, chose to sit here and kill time. Thing is… well, the thing is that Mitchell and Cameron got friendly. They bonded over football and basketball and baseball, in fact all the ballgames.

  Then, last month, when Luke revealed to Mitchell he was going to request a song for his crush, it happened. Mitchell made an elaborately casual throwaway comment. He had decided he might be bi, and his bi-for-boys side was more than a little interested in Cameron.

  Cameron, who was the stuff of Luke’s fantasies and had been for close to three years, ever since Luke realized he was most likely gay. And, in particular, gay for the boy in his math class, the one with the stunning blue eyes and the pouting lips and the—insert girly sigh at this point—gorgeous carelessly styled dark brown hair.

  Mitchell was quite open about his desires, as Luke called them. He claimed the captain of the football team was definitely, most probably, maybe also bi, and wouldn’t anyone in their right mind want to tap a fine football captain’s ass?

  Fuck! Mitchell had known Luke liked Cameron; what the hell had Mitchell been playing at? At that point, Luke had cut Mitchell out of his life, utterly and completely, forever. Until the next evening, when a grinning Mitchell decided he was not bi. He added that Sophie from chem, the brunette with the high IQ and the big boobs, was definitely, maybe, into him. Still, it didn’t stop I-don’t-need-to-work Mitchell from sitting with Cameron post-game, pre-game, off-season, on-season talking balls. Not merely sitting either, but actively leaning into Cameron and laughing out loud at everything Cameron said. Laughing much too loudly in Luke’s opinion.

  Tonight though, Mitchell left Cameron, after a few minutes of heated discussion, to sit across from Luke. So, after he’d placed the usual thirty on the counter, he glanced up at Luke, his face a mask of amusement. He clearly wasn’t going to apologize for completely ignoring Luke when he first walked in. Ass.

  "What song you did you ask for?" Mitchell pretend-whispered, causing Luke to glance guiltily over at Cameron’s table, in case the subject of his song choices had heard.

  Dan and Cameron were hunkered down and talking about something incredibly serious if their expressions were anything to go by.

  "Shut up," Luke said, as softly-loudly as he could manage. He moved to refill old man Thompson’s coffee then replaced the pot on the plate to keep the contents warm.

  "Well, I’m guessing you know our team lost again," Mitchell said matter-of-factly, his face scrunched in thought, "so I don’t know…maybe some kind of sad song?"

  "No." Luke was full-on blushing now. He hadn’t chosen a sad song. ‘Don’t Stop Believin'’ was an inspirational song, one that could potentially motivate Cameron and his team after their recent bad luck. "It’s an old song though," he murmured, taking a cloth and wiping down the counter’s surface to clear it of coffee stains and ice cream stickiness.

  "‘The Winner Takes It All?’ ABBA?" Mitchell smirked, and Luke threw the cloth at him. "Hey," he protested with a grimace and then a smile, "it’s a good choice."

  "Yeah, for the team that won, maybe," Luke snapped irritably and grabbed a clean cloth to rub at imaginary stains on the counter. He needed to try to get his embarrassment under control.

  "Nah," Mitchell replied smoothly, "it’s a sad song about a marriage breakup."

  "I’m not even going to ask you how you know so much about ABBA."

  "Hey."

  Luke turned at the quiet hello, to face the boy of his dreams. Cameron had sat down on a stool at the counter in all his post-game glory. His hair was still damp from the shower, and his skin looked fresh and scrubbed clean. Luke tried hard not to swallow his tongue.

  "Hey," he managed to reply. Then he searched desperately for something else to say. Something very witty and totally profound. Hell, at the moment, he would have been happy for something involving actual words.

  Cameron just sat there, looking expectantly at Luke, his eyebrows quirked and a half smile on his face. He seemed to finally decide Luke needed some help.

  "Can I get another Coke?" he asked simply, and Luke nodded mutely. He grabbed a fresh glass and filled it to the overflow point with the brown liquid.

  Smiling shyly, he slid it towards the boy of his fantasies.

  Why did his normally chatty, confident, some said over-confident, personality wither and die at one flash of Cameron’s beautiful blue eyes? An awkward silence fell over the three boys. Mitchell smirking, Cameron swallowing his fifth Coke of the night, and Luke standing there like a prize idiot.

  The same thing happened every time Luke was within speaking distance of Cameron. Luke was reaching the point where, whether Cameron was into boys or not, he was afraid he wasn’t ever going to be able to tell him his feelings anyway.

  "Nights like these are the ones when being team captain must suck, huh?" Luke finally blurted out, wincing as Cameron lowered his head and half nodded.

  "Yeah," was all Cameron said, and Luke swallowed. Misery curled inside him at his stupid comment. How did he expect Cameron to feel after what had been another crushing loss for him and the rest of the team? For God’s sake, at what point had his scary brilliant brain decided it was okay to bring up the game?

  "I’m sorry," Luke offered, watching as a small smile started on Cameron’s full lips and moved to light his eyes.

  "Well, I can for sure say it wasn’t your fault, Luke, since you weren’t even there," Cameron offered. His smile broadened as he leaned forward into Luke’s space.

  "I ha… have to work," Luke stuttered quickly. Cameron’s words took a moment to register; then he did a mental double take. Cameron had noticed he wasn’t at the game.

  "I know," Cameron offered gently. "Maybe if you had been there, we mighta won?"

  Hang on a damn minute! Luke blinked. Those words in that tone sounded like—well, like flirting? Shit. Before he could overanalyze it, Dan left the booth and walke
d over to high-five Cameron good-bye.