Page 22 of Perfect Storm (Toronto Thunder #1)

Preseason was a pain in Levi’s ass.

He liked playing. He liked being on the field, actually affecting the outcome of the game. He also liked game outcomes mattering, and this one was totally fucking meaningless.

But then, that wasn’t entirely true.

To Wes, who was starting the game. To Ross, who was fighting for his fucking life out there, in the trenches. To all the other guys struggling to make the fifty-two-man roster, this game was everything.

It was just nothing to Levi, and he was bored.

That seemed like a good enough reason to bother Aidan. Especially because every single time he did it, his golden-brown eyebrows slammed together and he looked like he wanted to pin Levi to the bench behind them and shut him up with his mouth.

Obviously Aidan wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that. But the fantasy was stimulating and distracting, a nice hot departure from watching this boring-ass game.

Aidan said something into the headset he was wearing—he wasn’t even dressed for the game, wouldn’t play until the second game, and then probably only a single series—about the coverage.

“Wes is playing great,” Levi said, nudging him.

Aidan looked over at him. Covered the microphone on his headset. “Can I help you?” he asked, sounding half fond, half exasperated, which Levi had discovered was the perfect Aidan-balance.

Levi shrugged. “He is.”

“Yes,” Aidan said, pursing his lips. “Lucky Wes. Ten years younger and a hell of a lot more able to run for his life.”

Wes had made more than a handful of great throws on the run, because as Levi had expected, the hard work and going back to basics had not magically turned back the clock on Ross’ skills.

“You could do that, still,” Levi said. He’d seen Aidan work out. He’d seen Aidan practicing, now. Was intimately familiar with what he was capable of.

“Yeah, sure, but I don’t want to be doing that,” Aidan said.

“I’m gonna fix it,” Levi said confidently. He was going to corner Coach Ned after the game and tell him to put him on left tackle. Especially for the next game. Surely Ned had seen everything he needed to with Ross.

He wasn’t getting the job done; he wasn’t going to get the job done.

Aidan shot him a sideways look—full of doubt. “Yeah, Acker’s just gonna move to the right, no big deal.”

“You’d be surprised,” Levi said. Aidan shrugged, like he would be.

But Levi had been doing his homework. At night, when he lay in bed and sleep felt elusive, because he was trying not to think about Aidan, just one room over, he watched film of past Thunder games.

He didn’t have Coach Ned’s twenty-plus years of coaching experience, but he felt reasonably sure that Ross could move to the right without too much trouble.

The next most obvious question was could Levi move to the left without much trouble? It was a lot more high-pressure spot on the line. Arguably the most important spot, though Levi thought Griff might argue that the center was more vital, considering he was responsible for the ball.

He’d tried to talk himself out of it, half a dozen times now.

He was getting paid the big bucks, now. He didn’t have to put his neck out there, especially on a brand-new team.

He could just keep playing under the radar, making the coaches happy with his performance.

He didn’t need to make these waves. But why else had he come to Toronto if it wasn’t to take the next step?

If it wasn’t to stick his neck out? To make himself the guy.

The game ended, a 38-to-10 win for the Thunder, even though the score really didn’t matter. Wes had played well, and Levi patted him on the shoulders, telling him so, in the locker room after the game.

Then he went to look for Ned.

“Put me in at left,” he said again, once he’d found his coach in the equipment room, helping some of the staff pack up to head back to Toronto.

Ned looked up at him. He was sixty if he was a day, with these dark eyes that pinned you right in your place. Maybe if Levi was less sure, he might be intimidated by the guy, but he wasn’t.

There wasn’t any room inside him for intimidation, not if he was going to get this done. Not if he was going to get himself his first ring.

Not if he was going to get Aidan another one.

“You again,” Ned said with resignation. “This week didn’t cure you of this crazy idea, did it?”

Levi shook his head. “I can do it.”

Ned raised an eyebrow. “Seem pretty sure about that. Left tackle’s no walk in the park.”

“I can do it,” Levi repeated.

Ned didn’t look convinced. It made Levi really want to get it done.

To prove to him and to Aidan and to himself that he didn’t just skate by in his life and his career, doing the bare minimum.

Being the spoiled and indulged and adored youngest. The one that nobody ever pushed, because Levi had always just been enough.

He’d never questioned if that was true, not until now.

He could hear Logan in his ear, telling him not to push the issue. To take the spot he was given.

But Logan was just as protective as Landry, both of them being two big brothers. Then he heard Lyla, in his other ear, telling him how proud she was that he’d fought for something more, when he’d decided not to re-sign with Seattle.

This was like that. Bigger, almost.

Of course, if it didn’t work out, if he sucked at left tackle, he’d go back to the right side, but coaches would remember.

His reputation wouldn’t be as unblemished as it was right now. Especially since one of his signing points—giving him those extra dollars—had been because of his possible flexibility.

“Just try it,” Levi continued. “Give me one practice to show you. You want to try those two tight end formations with Lane and Trev? You know those are gonna win games. If we don’t fix the left tackle, we’ll never be able to run those plays effectively.”

Ned sighed. Shoved a hand through his hair. Put his hat back on. “You really are a Banks through and through, aren’t you?”

Levi wasn’t sure before this watershed moment if he’d have agreed with that. He was a Banks, sure, and had the work ethic and the drive and the sheer size.

But he hadn’t seen the same things in himself that he always saw in his brothers.

Maybe he could see a little glimmer of it now.

“Guess so, Coach,” Levi said.

Ned gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’ll try it out. But—let me tell Acker. He’s not gonna take it well, especially after getting lit up this week.”

Levi nodded in agreement. It never felt good to be benched, but after you already knew you played like crap? It cut you when you were already down.

“Rest up, Banks. We’ll be back at it in two days.”

“For sure, Coach.”

It wasn’t a guarantee, or quite as good as Levi had promised Aidan, but it was an opening. And all Levi needed was the opening.

He found Aidan in the locker room, lounging against the wall next to Wes. They were discussing the game.

“Hey,” he said, as Aidan glanced over, “that thing we talked about? It’s happening. Next week.”

“Seriously?” Aidan said. “You just asked and Coach was like, sure! We’ll let you decide the offensive line formation?”

“Shhh,” Levi said, glancing around. But Ross was already gone. Probably licking his wounds in the training room or the shower. “Ned wants to tell Ross himself.”

“I can’t believe you just told him and he said okay,” Aidan said, disbelieving tone out in full force.

“He said he’d let me try it, and frankly, after today he was already thinking he might, but I can’t imagine me taking the initiative hurt.”

Aidan rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth was lifting into a smile. Like he just couldn’t help it.

Levi couldn’t help how much he loved it.

“Hey, you said you’d make it happen, and you did.”

“Manifested that shit,” Levi teased.

“Anybody gonna tell me what’s going on, or are you two just going to stand there and flirt about it?” Wes asked.

Levi watched as Aidan froze and then forced himself to relax. On the other hand, it was hard to be bothered when he pretty much owned up to it. He was flirting with Aidan, no question.

“Levi’s getting himself moved to left tackle,” Aidan said under his breath, just loud enough for Wes to hear.

Wes nodded. “About fucking time,” he said.

“Yeah, I can’t run for my life the way you can,” Aidan pointed out dryly. “So you can imagine how I feel about it.”

“Good work, man,” Wes said, clapping Levi on the shoulder, tugging him into a quick bro-hug.

“Hey, don’t get too excited about it. Maybe he’ll suck worse than Acker,” Aidan said, but he was still smiling, like he couldn’t stop.

“Bullshit,” Levi said, smiling right back. “I promised.”

“Yeah, if that was all it took,” Aidan retorted, but Levi could see he didn’t mean it.

He’d known that it would feel some kind of way to stick his neck out for himself, but he hadn’t known that it would feel this kind of way when it came to Aidan.

And as much as he kind of hated that he’d set the terms of the sex pact a year out, it occurred to Levi that maybe it was better this way. Maybe he needed some distance. If Aidan landed in his bed right now, it might not stay a friends-with-bennies situation for Levi. He just liked the guy.

Yes, some distance would be a good thing.

"You gonna tell me what’s going on with you and Banks?” Dawson asked, tone blunt, as they waited in Aidan’s favorite sushi restaurant for their rolls to arrive.

Aidan choked on a bite of his seaweed salad. “What?”

“What’s going on between you and Banks?” Dawson asked again, leaning forward and setting his elbows on the table. “You forget I know you.”

“Knew me,” Aidan corrected, but Dawson brushed the reminder off.

“Don’t be stupid,” Dawson said. “You haven’t changed that much. Really at all. You pretend to be chill, but we all know you’re not. It’s not even a surface-level fake-out, dude.”

“Ouch,” Aidan said.

“It’s not a bad thing. You’re an intense guy. Driven. Successful. Why should you hide it?”

God, so many reasons.