Page 35 of Beastkin
“Is it?” Silver shrugged. “It’s just sex, dude. It’s not a big deal.”
“But it changes everything!”
“Does it change how you view me?” he asked, lifting one of his white eyebrows. “I’m assuming you didn’t know until just now.”
“No! Of course not!” I cried, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “You’re still Silver! I just didn’t… you know…know.”
“So that means it’s not a big deal?”
“Ugh,” I sighed, letting my shoulders slump. “It’s just… it’s a lot to process.” I glanced up at him. “How are you so cool with it?”
He shrugged. “I’ve had time to figure myself out. Plus, my species doesn’t really do the whole hetero-normative thing. We’re pretty fluid about attraction.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “The point is, you’re not broken or weird or whatever bullshit your brain is telling you. You’re just figuring yourself out. That’s what college is for.”
Coach Flannery’s whistle cut through our conversation. “Back to work, ladies! We’ve got a game this weekend!”
As we jogged back to the group, Silver leaned closer. “My advice? Stop overthinking it and just talk to the guy. He came all this way to watch you practice. That’s gotta mean something. And it’s cute as hell if I’m being honest.”
The rest of practice passed in a blur of half-hearted plays and stolen glances toward the stands. I managed to pull it together enough that Coach didn’t single me out again, but I could tell my performance was still off. My teammates kept shooting me concerned looks, especially Daisuke, who was probably the most perceptive guy on the team. When I missed another block, lettingJackson get driven back five yards, I heard him mutter something about me beinguselessunder his breath.
The comment made my fur bristle with embarrassment. Was I really so obviously distracted? I risked another glance at Phoenix, who hadn’t moved from his spot in the stands. He’d been sitting there for over an hour now, patiently watching every drill, every play, every water break. His dedication was simultaneously flattering and terrifying.
When Coach finally blew the whistle to end practice, I felt a mixture of relief and dread. Relief that I could stop embarrassing myself on the field, and dread because I knew what was coming next. Phoenix was going to want that talk, and I had no idea what I was going to say to him.
“Hit the showers, gentlemen,” Coach called out, his clipboard tucked under his arm. “Laurent, a word.”
Shit. Not again.
I trudged over to Coach Flannery, aware of Phoenix’s gaze following me from the stands. The rest of the team filed toward the locker room, Silver giving me an encouraging thumbs-up as he passed.
“What’s going on with you this week?” Coach asked when I reached him, his blue eyes studying me with that penetrating werewolf stare. “And don’t give me any bullshit about being tired or rusty.”
I shifted uncomfortably, my cleats digging into the soft turf. “I’m just... distracted.”
“No kidding.” He glanced toward the stands where Phoenix sat, then back to me with a knowing expression. “That the friend you mentioned? The one who didn’t remember you?”
I nodded, surprised by his perceptiveness. “Yeah.”
Coach’s expression softened slightly. “Looks like he remembered you after all.”
“Something like that.” I couldn’t quite meet his eyes. How was Isupposed to explain that I was playing like garbage because I couldn’t stop thinking about kissing my childhood best friend?
Coach Flannery studied my face for a long moment, his nostrils flaring slightly as he took in my scent. A flash of understanding crossed his features, and I remembered too late that werewolves could smell arousal. My cheeks burned beneath my fur.
“I see,” he said quietly. “Well, that certainly explains a few things.”
I wanted to sink into the turf and disappear. “Coach, I?—”
He held up a hand to stop me. “You don’t need to explain anything to me, Karrick. You’re not the only one on the team with similar proclivities.” He grinned slightly. “But you do need to sort this out. Whatever’s going on between you two is affecting your game, and I can’t have that. Not with Blueridge coming up this weekend.”
“I know,” I said miserably. “I’m trying.”
“Try harder.” His voice was firm but not unkind. “Take the rest of the day. Get your head straight. Or not straight. Whatever makes you happy. There’s no shame in anything you feel just as long as it doesn’t distract you so much that Jackson gets turned into mincemeat out there.”
“Honestly,” I grumbled, knowing there was no arguing. “Jackson deserves it.”
Coach laughed. “You might be right about that. But still. Go figure it out.” He leaned in closer, nudging me with his elbow. “Take it from an old gay werewolf. You don’t want to miss out on life because it’s new or scary. Go have fun.”
And then he walked away, leaving me completely dumbfounded. Apparently, Ireallywasn’t the only one on the team with these feelings.