Page 8 of Rocking the Receiver (Austin Troopers)
CHAPTER 8
HE TOUCHED ME
Rupert
The soft hum of the elegant crowd fills the early July air. The massive reception is going strong at the Lefevre estate. The sun begins its descent over the vineyard. As always, the scenery is breathtaking, the late afternoon casting a golden glow over the event.
I’m on my own, people-watching at the edge of the sprawling lawn. I’m utterly overwhelmed by the sheer number of people, amongst which are two Brits and an American, who’s also the hostess.
As for the two Brits, that’d be my mom and me. When I eventually informed Tim that Sally moved out, he suggested that Mom tag along. Last time he’d seen her, she was dirt-poor. Thankfully, my so-called stardom enhanced her life, but she adamantly refuses to relocate closer to me, claiming that I’m always traveling anyway, so we compromised and I financed the makeover of my childhood home.
Instinctively, I look for her in the crowd and find her chatting animatedly with a group of the Lefevre’s friends. Soon after, she looks up, meets my eyes, and tips her champagne flute my way. Empty-handed, I grin at her; I stopped drinking about an hour ago, too aware of the upcoming performance that Tim and his wife requested from me.
I’ve been practicing my breathing instead. I’m used to performing in front of large crowds, and I love it, just ask my friend, Dante Reyes. It was so much fun to do a duet with him at the Seaside Music Festival in Oregon, even if I’m prone to stage fright. I wish it would recede with habit or fame, but it hasn’t, and Sally—my biggest supporter—gone to lead the life she deserves with Nathan also changes my usual dynamic. I shouldn’t complain too much since they’ll make the trip to the music festival in Colorado in a couple of weeks; I love seeing her at peace and in love with a good guy.
“Still shy, my boy?” Mom’s voice startles me from my reverie. Her British accent is crisp and clear.
“You know me! Also, trying to get in the right mindset for the gig.” It’s not even a total lie. “Victoria said I should head towards the makeshift stage as soon as the DJ plays ‘One.’” How fitting!
“What about you, Mom? Are you okay, surrounded with all these French natives?”
“Oh, darling, I’m wonderful! Most of them speak English… or at least try to. Everybody’s so nice. It’s been ages since I’ve seen Timothée. He’s grown into such a fine man. He and Claire make a beautiful couple, don’t they?”
I agree, scanning the dancing crowd to find them. Looking at the happy couple, Mom and I discuss the newlyweds, the endless mass that she truly enjoyed, and my short stay in my hometown when the festivities are over. Soon enough, she leaves to mingle with other guests.
Lip syncing to Modern Love , I spy him. Finally! Elliot… also, Tim’s younger brother, I remind myself. I got caught up in the moment one too many times and won’t let it happen again.
The handsome devil looks up and catches my eye, silently acknowledging me.
I get it, nobody actually knows we’re friends.
I ignore how his face lights up or how my stupid pulse accelerates. With that, the large crowd I don’t particularly care for seems to vanish as his eyes lock on mine. A genuine smile slowly tugs at my lips.
He pops some finger food into his mouth and wipes his hand on a tiny napkin, never averting his eyes, then weaves through the throng of people in my direction. “ Salut, mon ami .”
“ Salut .” I bet I’m butchering the second syllable because the letter “u” always gives me trouble, but who cares? At least, I know better than to pronounce the “t.”
We both sigh in sync, chuckling at that.
Things have been more than civil between us for the last few months. Since he reached out again, we’ve primarily texted to keep in touch. Seeing him after a year makes me oddly happy, especially now that we are able to reconnect in person. The previous tension has evolved, and I’m glad to register that, thanks to the distance and our regular texting, I am more at ease around him.
I switch back to English. “How’s it going?”
“Great, great. It’s quite a party, huh?”
During mass, I overheard that three hundred guests were expected; I’m not sure how many are here now, but way too many for a formal seated dinner. They opted for a high-quality, organic buffet that we eat on high-tables scattered around the beautifully decorated premises.
“Indeed. Your brother looks like he’s walking on cloud nine.”
“Yeah, I can see it… in a stressed-out kinda way, but that’s understandable. After he proposed last year, they didn’t have much time to pull this off.” He extends his arm and waves his hand in a circular motion, his fingers brushing my forearm. I stiffen, and thankfully, he doesn’t pay attention to it. “They’re disgustingly in love, those two!”
I agree, then admit, “I was beginning to think you were intentionally steering clear of me.” I laugh as casually as possible to pretend I’m on top of my game. You do know that my heart lurched because you barely acknowledged me when we stood side by side as best men during the Mairie ceremony. I get that we both had a mission to fulfill… but you stubbornly stayed with your family. Why?
But I don’t say that. I keep my frustration to myself.
“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to be rude. Family duty…” He shrugs dismissively. “I guess your mom’s presence kinda threw me off. I wasn’t expecting to see her. Call it cold feet at meeting a parent.” There’s a hint of something in his voice that contradicts his laidback attitude; I can’t quite put my finger on it.
Then, he breaks eye-contact to stare at his feet and mumbles, “My dad introduced us. It was awkward…” He trails off, and I don’t press for details. He doesn’t sound eager to elaborate either, his bold personality nowhere in sight for a split second. He recovers quickly. His gaze switches back to intense. “Before you get on that stage, why don’t I treat you to a drink for liquid courage?” He pauses and adds, “…since I’m allowed to drink here and I made sure some of the staff from last year wouldn’t be around.”
“Did you now?” His grateful expression pleases my ego. “Thanks for taking care of my public image. I appreciate your concern, I really do.” His radiant expression is captivating, even though I doubt he’s aware of it. “I could use some sparkling water. Then, I’ll be happy to have a beer after my gig.”
“Oh, is that a date?” A smirk slips through his luscious lips. My eyes are as big as saucers, and he lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m kidding, man. I’m kidding!”
I need a second to regain my composure. This kid will be the death of me. So, I decide to switch topics. “By the way, last time I talked to Tim, he was raving about your football skills that landed you a full scholarship.”
“You talked about me with Tim?” Reaching for mini veggie skewers from a passing tray, he inhales three at a time.
I look away in order to do anything but stare at his mouth and throat as he swallows his food. What’s wrong with me? “Of course! We discuss plenty of topics, including updates on the Lefevre tribe.”
“Did you tell him we’ve been… texting?”
I concentrate on him again. My fingers twitch. I wish I was holding a glass to occupy my hands instead of stashing them in my pants pockets. “I certainly did not. It’s none of his business.” He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t interrupt me. “As for you, why didn’t you mention the scholarship to begin with?” He worries his bottom lip, speechless—a first! “It’s amazing, Elliot. You must be so proud.”
“Well, I worked my ass off for it, so I’m mostly thankful that they acknowledge dedication, hard work, and talent when they see it.”
“Modest, as always,” I mock him gently.
“Stating facts is all.” His gaze dares me to disagree. I don’t.
“Which position will you be playing when you get to Austin?”
“Wow, so you know about Austin, too! My brother did clue you in, didn’t he?” Expectant, I raise an eyebrow. “Wiiide receiver.” Stretching the word, he winks, his brown gaze full of mischief.
Old habits die hard…
I shake my head to indicate that no matter our shared secret sexual orientation—or maybe because of it—he shouldn’t go there. He did mention once in passing that nobody is privy to his. I remember how heavy a burden that is, although I remain mostly closeted. That said, I strongly believe we should maintain the boundaries I set for our unlikely friendship after he went too far. The troublemaker can’t help but waggle his ginger eyebrows, his eyes burning into mine. “Football innuendo? Really? Don’t even go there, Elliot.” My tone is harsher than intended, but I’m well-aware of his double entendre by now. “If you’re as serious about football as you claim to be and want to go pro, this is no joke.”
“Chillax, Brit! I’m teasing. Yes, I’ve told you countless times, the NFL is my goal, and when I set my mind to something, I don’t derail. I like to keep things light, but that doesn’t imply I’m careless. As for receiving, well, it depends on the circumstances and the guy, I guess. So far, my limited experience hasn’t enabled me to form a proper opinion. Strike that… Actually, when given the opportunity, I think I’d fancy topping over bottoming.”
“You’re an incorrigible little brat, Elliot Lefevre.”
“And that’s what you love about me, isn’t it? Maybe you should envision this friendship with a twist.” His large hand lands on my elbow. This simple gesture, surely comparable to a nod, does all kinds of naughty things to my body. A mere touch, and I’m hot and bothered like a school girl fangirling over a movie star. It’s the first touch since our kiss, though. “Friends with benefits would be fun, don’t you think?”
Two parts of my mind duel. I can’t deny that his sassy side amuses me, but my rational brain reminds me that I’m the adult. Before I can open my mouth to scold him, Tim catches us off-guard, bursting our cozy little bubble.
Tim’s been playing the social butterfly throughout the day. His day, and I would be an asshole to mind. If I’m being honest, the fact that he hasn’t been checking on me contributed to my relaxation. A pang of guilt settles in my stomach. From Elliot’s sinful proposition that Tim stays oblivious to.
Well, I never told my best friend how close his brother and I have become; I barely hinted it to Sally, and I surely never confessed the forbidden kiss he stole from me… and that I reciprocated before getting a hold of myself. A shrink would have a field trip with that, I’m sure, but there’s none in the vicinity, so…
My best friend hands me some sparkling water. The guy knows all of my idiosyncrasies; it’s unnerving. “Here you are! Sorry I’m interrupting. Was this guy boring you with football stuff, like he usually does?” Elliot sticks his tongue out at this brother. The back of my neck itches. I gulp the water to regain my composure. “You ready for your big performance, country star?”
I take a deep breath. “As ready as I’ll ever be. It’s a bit nerve-wracking, to be honest.” I glance at Elliot, who’s suddenly become silent.
“You’ll be amazing, just like you always are.”
“Thanks for the support, Tim.”
He clinks his wine against my half-full glass. I blank out for a bit before fathoming that Elliot split.
Dammit!
Prior to Tim’s wedding party, my thoughts hadn’t been sexual as far as Elliot was concerned. I mean, I’m no monk so, naturally, I’d noticed how hot he is. The permanent slight curl of his upper lip. His velvety freckled skin. His phenomenal ass.
Today, it dawns on me that this train of thought is impossible to fight. The sound of his mirth mixed with his inappropriate conversation was enough to make me rock-hard earlier.
My own contradictions return with a vengeance. Elliot is off-limits. I like him a tad too much. Can I indulge in his suggestion? His hungry gaze sure flatters my ego. I bet my eyes conveyed equal pent-up longing. We know each other’s secret. We’ll live in the same country, but far enough apart to avoid raising suspicion. Would it be so bad to cave? The semi that the dim light hopefully conceals is totally on board, but has yet to convince my other head.
I quiver when I eventually realize one unsettling thing: My friendship with Tim barely enters the equation while I ponder my options.
“… mom’s going to cry, you know.” Tim’s voice wrenches me from my wrongful debate.
“Your mom?” I ask, confused.
“No, I said yours.” He chuckles, his hand clasping my shoulder. He leads me to the small stage set up on the lawn. “Even as a teenager, I remember her tearing up when you performed.”
“Yeah, she does… and she will.”
Moments later, Tim takes the microphone and announces me. The crowd quiets down, and I grab my guitar that’s waiting for me.
Heart hammering in my chest, I strum my guitar, incapable of looking away from Elliot.
His cocky attitude is oddly refreshing. So alien to my controlled, self-imposed persona that I built to protect myself. I love that he’s not apologetic about who he is—granted, he’s still partially hiding, in a closet that is. He admitted that I’m the only one who he feels comfortable taking his mask off with. Same for me, I’m truer with him than with anyone else.
But why?