by Eden Finley
“Like any of us would’ve listened if we were in your shoes. We’re all pigheaded and stubborn,” Talon says.
“Truth. Please tell me you at least won?”
“Of course, we did. I did this whole huddle thing where I talked you up, being all ‘We have to win this for Miller!’ to get everyone psyched up. Totally worked.”
I narrow my eyes. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Okay, fine. Jackson said I was being cheesy and cliché, but we won, so it was totally my motivational speech.”
I grin. “What was in your motivational speech?”
“The president’s speech in Independence Day.”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did. Then Jenkins told me to shut up.”
“I think your authority is compromised now.”
“We won, didn’t we? It’s like a loophole. I get to act like a jackass so long as I’m pulling off the wins.”
“Ooh, so that explains your behavior for the last …” I squint as I pretend to count. “Oh, your entire life.”
“Ooh, I almost forgot. I brought you something.” Talon reaches into his pocket and pulls out his middle finger.
I cough in between muffling the word “Mature.”
“Never, under any circumstances, have I ever been accused of being mature.”
The conversation is how any conversation between me and Talon would’ve gone back in the day, and I fucking miss him so much. Having him close has messed with my head like no other person ever has.
“So, umm, yeah, Tina’s getting team management approval for me to go home and have the surgery in New York,” I say.
“What? Why?”
I think it’s panic clouding his eyes.
“I’m gonna be on crutches and need help getting around.”
Talon shrugs. “Come stay with me.”
My brain cannot emphasize how much of a stupid idea that would be. Like beyond stupid. “Mom’s already called me blabbering on about how she’s retired now and bored and needs to fuss. She said it’s her job to look after me.”
Talon used to give me shit in college about being a momma’s boy, but I’m not too proud to admit I owe everything to that woman. She worked two jobs to put my sister and me through college. I had a full ride, but she wanted Vanessa to go to the same school as me so I could look out for her. Mom did everything for me and my sister, and she’s the reason I’m in the NFL today, so generally whatever she demands, she gets.
“Besides, you’ll hardly be there and won’t be much help.”
Not to mention I need a break from being around Talon. Everything comes back to him and me and everything I’ll never have.
Talon pulls up the visitor’s chair next to my bed and slumps into it. “I hear that. My mom’s still mad I didn’t accept the offer from Denver.”
That had confused me as well.
“Why didn’t you go to Denver? Your entire family is there, and you complained about being so far away from them constantly when we were in college. You grew up there—”
“Money. The Warriors offered more.”
“Not buying it. Denver would’ve offered you close to what Chicago did.”
“Not trying to sell it.” Leaning forward, Talon rests his elbows on the side of my bed and clasps his hands together.
This bed is tiny for a normal-sized human, so he’s dangerously close to my thigh, and even though it’d be painful as hell for him to graze his hands over it, I want him to do it.
“This isn’t going to make any sense to you, but the only way I can explain it is my gut sent me to Chicago.”
“Your gut … because Chicago has such great pizza?”
“I knew you wouldn’t understand.” Talon, for once, is not in the joking mood, and that’s even more confusing than anything else that’s happened this last month.
“No, I think I understand,” I say. “It’s like on the field. You’ve got a sixth sense out there. It’s impressive … and annoying as hell.”
He backhands my arm.
“Hey, asshole, I’m injured here,” I complain.
“Didn’t realize your hamstring’s in your biceps. Guess I should’ve paid more attention in anatomy in school.”
“Oh, I’m sure you paid attention. Just to the wrong anatomy.”
He smiles. “You’re gonna be fine. Next season, we’ll kick ass together.”
It’s the first time since he’s been back in my life that it feels like it used to between us, but then he squeezes my good leg, and the nostalgic feeling of having my best friend by my side is gone, and it’s replaced with the need I’ve always had for him. I try to suppress a shiver.
Even in pain—although a lot less thanks to the painkillers they’ve pumped into me—I still get turned on at his slightest touch.
I throw my head back on the pillow and close my eyes, willing my stupid dick to calm down.
“Shit, are you okay? You in pain?” Talon gets to his feet and leans over me, and fuck, this makes it worse. His face, so close to mine I can feel his body heat without even touching him. “Want me to get a nurse?”
I shake my head. “I’m all good.” Distraction, that’s what I need. “I do need to take a piss though.” Doing that with this hard-on should be interesting.
“You need a hand?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I shuffle to remove the ice packs from my leg as I brace myself to get up and try not to let the blanket fall off me. It’s the only thing remotely hiding my cock.
I fail miserably.
“Guess the drugs are kicking in.”
I follow his gaze to where my dick is trying to say hello under the thin hospital gown.
Way to go, Shane. You’re killing it at embarrassing yourself.
“Right. The drugs are doing it.” Even though I’m pretty sure limp dick is a usual side effect, not the other way around.
We stare at each other, and I swear the tips of his ears turn pink. Dunno why he’d be embarrassed when I’m the one who’s hard.
“You still need to take a leak?” Talon asks. “I carried your ass across campus the other day. Twenty feet is nothing.”
If he’s willing to ignore the giant boner in the room, then I am too.
“What’s your pain level at?” Talon asks when I struggle to get out of bed.
The smirk on his face lets me know he’s messing with me. Any time we’ve got an injury, our trainers constantly ask what the pain level is, and it’s beyond annoying.
“I dunno, but my bullshit level is at a zero, so how about not giving me any.”
“Clearly, they haven’t given you enough drugs if you’re this grumpy. Then again, if they give you more, you’d probably poke me with that monster boner you’re rocking.”
“You wish.” The quip rolls off my tongue like it would if I was smack talking any of the team, but this time, it makes me pause. It’s different with him.
“Maybe I do.”
It’s a joke, I know that, but my body doesn’t. I nearly stumble and fall on my fucking face.
“Whoa.” Talon catches me and wraps his arm around my waist, while I put mine around his shoulders. “One joke about your dick, and you’re falling for me, huh?”
When I stare at him as if he’s lost his head, he acts as if he never said anything out of the ordinary. Either these drugs are better than I thought or he’s flirting with me.
It has to be the drugs. Straight guys don’t flirt with other supposed straight friends.
“I’m messing with you, man,” he says and squeezes me tighter. “If you can’t laugh, you’re only gonna cry, and you know I’m allergic to that stuff.”
“Tears?”
“It’s like my kryptonite. It sucks all my awesomeness from me.”
I’d like to suck something from him … Okay, I don’t think I can blame the drugs for that thought, but I’m milking the drugged-up situation as long as I can.
He smells of disgusting locker room soap, yet I can’t help breathing hi
m in.
Still as pathetic as you were six years ago.
I’m still thinking of the one thing that will never happen while openly ignoring that reality by pining for and perving on my old best friend.
At least the walk to the bathroom helps deflate my cock with the pain in my leg coming back full force.
It takes two years to get into the bathroom. “Probably shoulda used the plastic urinal thing by my bed,” I grumble.
“Need me to hold your dick?”
Yes, please. “I’m all good.”
While I drain the snake, Talon stands close. Like, crossing personal boundaries close.
When I’m empty, I drop my hospital gown to cover my cock again. “You mind?”
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
I’m reminded of the morning we woke up next to those girls and how Talon was so carefree about free balling it in front of me.
It hurts that I can’t return the same level of comfort around him, but when he’s near me, my skin tingles and my gut tightens with expectation and want.
My brain imagines his hand trailing down my shoulder, my back, and then down to my hip.
“Mmm, these drugs are good.” It literally feels like Talon’s touching me.
“You okay?” he murmurs, and his voice is impossibly close.
That’s when I know it’s not the drugs. I’m not imagining this.
Talon’s behind me, his hand on my hip and his warm breath in my ear.
“What are you doing?” I garble. It sounds like I’ve been chewing on gravel.
“Wanna know something weird?”
Is he gonna say the way his hand still rests on my hip over my less-than-sexy hospital gown is weird? Because I’d agree.
“What’s weird?” I ask.
“When you went down on the field tonight, my heart stopped, and I wanted to trade places with you. I wish I could take away your pain, because you’re the best guy I know, Shane.”
He never calls me Shane. It probably doesn’t mean anything, but to me, it means everything. It means he doesn’t see me as just a teammate. Not that I ever thought he did, but the simple use of my first name makes me even more pathetically stupid over him.
“And I can deny it all I want—tell everyone I signed with the Warriors because it was more money—but watching you tonight and helping you struggle right now, I know that it’s a lie. I’ve been lying to myself for months.”
“What lie is that?” My question is so quiet, even I barely hear it, but Talon moves in even closer.
“I moved to Chicago because I missed you. It’s simple, really.”
Chapter Seven
TALON
What am I doing, and why the fuck am I touching Miller like this? I went from freaking out about all of this to suddenly checking out Miller every chance I get and then waxing poetic about missing him. Not to mention, feeling him up in the bathroom while he’s wearing a hospital gown. Because he’s injured. And in pain.
Best friend of the year award, right here.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” I step back. “That was weird.”
Miller turns slowly toward me, struggling with shifting his weight on his bad leg. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and the more seconds tick by, the more embarrassed I become. When he does finally say something, his voice is cautious. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so.”
“Ignore me. My head’s been messed up since training camp.” I realize how that sounds as soon as the words come out of my mouth. “Not that I didn’t mean it. I did. All of it. But it’s weird, right? It’s weird.”
“Little bit.” His eyes are wide, and he’s even more freaked out.
I put my arm around his waist again. “Let’s get you back to bed and pump you full of more drugs so you can forget I said anything.”
Miller pulls back. “Talon, what’s going on?”
“Nothing. Ignore me. A doctor once told me that being too awesome sometimes overloads my brain, and it melts down. True story.” When in doubt, bring out the jokes. It’s class clowning 101.
I go to move toward the door, but he holds strong.
“No bullshit time.”
“Aww, man, you’re bringing in the no bullshit rule?”
Miller and I moved in together my last two years of college. The first few months had been a nightmare trying to navigate our way of living on top of each other. Miller and I are similar in so many ways it was surprising to find out we had completely different living habits.
He was a slob, he thought I was too loud, I was an early riser—still am—and he liked to sleep in. It seemed the only time we weren’t arguing those first few months was if a girl was over, because even if we were pissed at each other, we never passed up an opportunity to fall into bed together.
We ended up instating a no bullshit policy where if we had a problem we’d say it out loud and the other couldn’t be pissed off about it. It worked, and those two years of living with Miller are my favorite memories of college.
“Why did you move to Chicago for me?” Miller asks, and his Adam’s apple works his throat like it’s hard to swallow.
I know that feeling. “Could we maybe not have this conversation in a hospital bathroom where all I can smell is disinfectant and all I can think is ‘I wonder if someone died in here’?”
“We could, but we won’t.”
My shoulders fall, and I relent, because as I’ve recently worked out, Miller is my one weakness—the guy I’d fucking kill for if he asked me to. I go to open my mouth, but he cuts me off.
“I need you to be one hundred percent clear here, because I’m pretty sure my meds are making my brain think things I shouldn’t.”
Things he shouldn’t? What does that even mean?
I take a deep breath. “I moved to Chicago for you because I’ve never had as much fun as when we were roommates. When I think about the happiest times in my life, it wasn’t when I was drafted to the NFL. It wasn’t when I won a Super Bowl or when I put that championship ring on for the very first time. It’s all those nights a million years ago being your roommate and friend.”
Miller refuses to look at me as he says, “Not to mention all the sex, right?”
“I thought that might’ve had something to do with it, but you know what has killed me since you’ve been avoiding me? Not that you used the media and our position as a way of putting a stop to repeating old mistakes, but that you ignored me afterward. I won’t deny the nights sharing a girl with you has been the best sex I’ve ever had, and I’ve missed it because I’ve never trusted another guy the way I trust you, but I wasn’t thinking about that when I accepted the Warriors’ offer. It was you.”
Why am I just working this out tonight? And why, when I keep picturing Jackson and Noah together, do they morph in my memory into Miller and some faceless guy? A faceless guy I wished was me?
“Talon—”
I don’t know I’m moving because it’s so slow, but then I’m suddenly there, pressed against him and catching his scent of sweat and dirt from the field. He smells of where I belong, because if there’s one thing in my life I’ve always been sure of, it’s football.
My mouth skims his rough cheek, searching, wanting. I expect him to pull away, but Miller turns his head slightly, moving closer.
Why does this feel so good? So right?
His much bigger body molds against mine. Warmth envelops me, and a sense of home makes my chest ache.
My suit pants become uncomfortably tight, and unlike Miller, I can’t blame drugs. But he’s not pushing me away either.
“Shane.”
“Mmm” is all I get as an answer.
Miller turns his head, and our lips find each other’s. The first touch has a weird sensation running down my spine. It’s not electricity but a jolt of something else. Realization, clarity … an epiphany maybe. Our mouths come together to create something that turns all my confusion from the past few weeks into something beautiful and warm and totally unexpected.
My whole body relaxes under his strong hands. The kiss turns up the heat when he slips his tongue into my mouth accompanied by a groan so forceful I feel it in my toes.
The breath gets knocked from my lungs, and I’m freefalling like the time on spring break back in college when Miller and I jumped out of a plane and were almost killed by both our mothers and our coach when they found out we’d gone skydiving.
The thrill of kissing my old best friend has the same adrenaline effect as extreme sports, and God knows I’m a competitive athlete who wants to win.
What winning means in this situation, I have no idea, but I’m hoping it involves a lot of coming. My dick likes that idea and digs into Miller’s hip.
I’m kissing a guy, and my dick is hard.
A few months ago, I thought I knew everything there was to know about life. Turns out I know jack shit.
I cup the back of Miller’s head and angle mine to deepen the kiss—a kiss I never knew would be so hot. So consuming.
Miller moans into my mouth, and I savor the masculine sound.
Kissing a man is an entirely new sensory experience. From the roughness and strength in his hold to the scruff on his face scraping my skin, kissing Miller is like nothing I’ve ever done before. It’s incomparable.
“Guys?” a faint voice says. “Hello?”
I tear my mouth from Miller’s and step back. “It’s Jackson.”
“In here,” Miller calls out. “We’ll be out in a sec.”
Our eyes lock, and I have no idea what he’s seeing in mine, but his project nothing but wariness. Which makes sense, because I don’t know what the fuck is going on either.
“We should get out there,” I rasp, but neither of us moves.
We keep staring at each other, almost daringly. Who’s gonna mention the giant elephant in the room? The elephant being my very hard cock.
Did my brain just make a dick size joke instead of freaking out about being caught kissing a guy?
Miller takes a deep breath and looks at the roof. His mouth moves silently as if counting or talking to himself, and it’s not until I look down I realize he’s even harder than before. I wrote it off earlier because of the drugs, but now?
