Page 39 of Saving Sparrow (Slow Burns & Tragic Beginnings #2)

Then

The crowd lost its fucking mind, the roar from the stands deafening. From the end zone, I searched the bleachers for the only two people I gave a shit about, but I couldn’t spot them through the mayhem of excitement.

My teammates barreled down on me, lifting me into the air. With a rushing touchdown, I’d won us the game.

While everyone chanted my name, I used my new height advantage to search the stands again.

Through the waving pom-poms and fist pumps, I made out a redhead wearing my number.

Next to him, Miguel cupped his hands around his mouth and bounced like a two-year-old.

I didn’t need to hear his voice to know he was shouting my name. They both were.

I signaled for Darren and JT to let me down, taking off as soon as my cleats hit the turf, practically leaping into the stands.

I shoved past the bros clapping me on my shoulder pads and the groupies trying to sink their claws into me. I even ignored the scouts from the University of Wembly who’d shown up to see me.

“They’re not necessarily here for you, McAllen,” Coach Saxton had warned. “That means you don’t get your hopes up, you don’t let your ego get the best of you, but you still play well.”

I’d played like my fucking life depended on it because who were we kidding? They were abso-fucking-lutely there for me. Wembly was in the lead for the overall number of NFL first-round draft picks. It was my dream school, but the dream went both ways. They’d be lucky to have me.

Miguel wore his contact lenses today, so I didn’t have to be careful when I ripped my helmet off, fisted his hair, and kissed him like I meant it. I hoped the scouts were watching, because they needed to know exactly who the fuck they were thinking about taking a chance on.

There’d been a change in Elliott after he found out about me and Miguel a couple of months ago.

He was still scared of the world, but he was less scared now.

He still had nightmares, bad ones, but less often.

Our pretty girl had become more fearless, which made Miguel and me more fearless, too.

Fuck football if it meant hiding, and finally, Miguel was on board with that.

“Did you see that?” I shouted over the chaos. “I killed it!”

“I’m pretty sure it was a team effort,” Miguel said dryly, brushing my sweaty hair off my forehead.

“Yeah, yeah.” I kissed him again.

“Hey, somebody’s gotta keep you humble,” he whispered into my ear.

“I’ve got it all on video,” Elliott shouted, his eyes wide, cheeks rosy. “You tore right through their defensive line!” Sometimes I thought he loved football more than I did.

“I did, didn’t I?” I poked my chest out, ruining Miguel’s attempt at keeping me humble. “They don’t call me a dual threat for nothing.”

“And Q for quarterback,” Elliott said, beaming like my number one fan. I placed my helmet on his head, then scooped him into a bear hug. It was challenging with all the gear on, but I made it work.

“It’s wet in here,” he complained, removing the helmet when I set him down.

“Funny, that’s what I said to Guelly last night.”

“Gross,” Miguel said as Elliott and I laughed.

“My joke or the helmet?”

“Both, Quentin. Both.”

“Don’t be such a prude. You know you like it when I talk dirty to you.” I nuzzled his neck, getting my sweaty hair all over his cheek.

Two dipshits watched us with their faces scrunched from the row above us. I squeezed Miguel’s ass, pressing him into my jockstrap. “Got a fucking problem?” I raised an eyebrow. They paled, snapping their gazes to the field.

I tongued Miguel down for anyone else eyeing us. Elliott wasn’t smiling when I pulled back.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.” He shook his head before going over one of the team’s impressive plays that he’d recorded on his phone.

“I think Coach Saxton wants you,” Miguel said, his eyes now on the field.

“Everyone wants me, Guelly,” I said seriously, “but I’m already spoken for.”

“He’s looking for you, you idiot.”

“Huh?”

He chuckled as I looked over my shoulder. Coach stood with his hands on his hips, frowning as he scanned the stands.

“Gotta go.” I kissed Miguel hard on the lips and Elliott on the cheek before weaving my way out of the stands. “Meet me in the parking lot!”

I took a quick shower after our team victory meeting, then rushed to the crowded parking lot.

People hung around talking, still high off the win as music blared from JT’s souped-up Raptor.

Miguel and Elliott waited near my dad’s convertible, taking in all the excitement but not participating in it.

I shrugged out of my varsity jacket, slipping it over Elliott’s shoulders when I reached them.

“Thanks.” He pulled it tighter around him, the cool breeze blowing through his hair. It never got cold in Porthmore, but the fall nights could sometimes be chilly.

“Ready?” I asked them.

“Hey, McAllen!” JT jumped down from the bed of his truck, stopping me with my hand on the passenger side door handle.

“Darren’s parents are out of town. Everyone’s going over there to celebrate the big win. You should swing by.”

“Nah. I’m pretty wiped.” I held the door open for Miguel, but he didn’t get in.

“You never come out, man,” JT complained. “You’re too young to be a hermit. You can bring your girlfriends with you.”

“Fuck you, Daniels,” I said halfheartedly. JT liked giving me shit, but overall he was a cool guy. When Miguel and I stopped holding back in public, JT had been the first one to show his support.

To be honest, I’d expected more backlash than what we got, at least from the team. Either no one cared, or they were too scared to admit it. It helped that Coach Saxton didn’t tolerate homophobic behavior.

“Come on,” he laughed, “you know I love them.”

I glanced over at Miguel and Elliott, who both seemed amused and flattered by JT’s antics. My irrational jealousy reared its fucking head, and I slammed the car door, taking the bait. “About that—”

“Hold that thought until you get to Darren’s.” He backed away with a grin. “I’ll even let you kick my ass for winking at Beautiful Brown-Eyes .” That was his annoying nickname for Miguel. I’d almost pulverized him the first time he’d used it. Now he just said it to fuck with me.

I scowled as JT hopped into his truck and screeched out of the parking lot, a procession of cars following behind.

“When did he wink at you?” I whirled on Miguel, who didn’t seem impressed by my tone at all.

“He didn’t,” he said, giving me one of his infamous eye rolls.

“You’re such an easy target.” Elliott grinned, slipping into the back seat. Miguel kissed the hard line of my lips before nudging me to the side and getting into the passenger seat. I sighed, circling to the driver’s side.

“I say we go.” Elliott sat forward, poking his head between the front seats.

“ You say we should go?” I started the car. “You never want to go anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Miguel agreed, equally confused.

None of us ever wanted to go anywhere unless we absolutely had to. We’d grab pizza occasionally, and sometimes Elliott and Miguel went to the library in town, but overall, we’d much rather veg out alone at home.

“It’s a big night for you.” Elliott bit his lip, staring in the direction all the cars went. “Let’s go.” He sounded more sure this time.

I twisted to face him. “I don’t want to go. I wanna lie in bed, listen to you tell me how badass I was out there, and then I want to fuck Guelly.”

Miguel groaned, planting his face in his palms.

“Sorry, I meant ‘ make love .’ Jeez, so sensitive.”

He gave me a deadpan look, letting me know that how I’d said it wasn’t the problem. Maybe it was that I’d said it at all.

“What’s wrong with me saying I want to fuck you? It’s the truth, isn’t it? You know,” I started thoughtfully, “one of these days you’re gonna have to accept me for who I am.”

Miguel rolled his eyes, smiling despite obviously not wanting to. He kissed my frown. “I already do, Q.”

“Q for quarterback,” I said, cheesing.

“We can still do all of that,” Elliott said. “ After we celebrate you with everyone else. Your whole team’s gonna be there. Imagine how many compliments you’re gonna get.” He knew just how to manipulate me. It worked like a charm.

“I guess I shouldn’t deprive them. But only for a little while, and the moment you’re ready to go—”

“We’ll leave,” Elliott finished for me.

“And we stick together. I’m glue—”

“And we’re hip,” both he and Miguel said in a rehearsed tone.

“Right.” I lowered my voice, my words meant only for Miguel. “And when we get home, I’ll be the stick and you’ll be—”

“We get it, you freak.” Miguel laughed, slapping his palm over my mouth. “Now drive before you end up with nothing to keep your cold stick warm tonight.”

I pulled his hand away, crowding him until his back was against the passenger door. “I own that hole, Guelly. It gets my big stick whenever I say it does.” I pressed a hard kiss to his mouth, shoving my tongue in and out in demonstration before buckling him in and speeding away.

The three of us took up position on the loveseat in the darkened living room.

It had been pushed against the wall with the other furniture to create space for the impromptu dance floor.

It could only hold two people comfortably—since one of those people was me.

So, Miguel sat on my lap while I held Elliott’s hand from the spot next to me.

“We look silly,” Miguel shouted over the music. “I’m gonna sit on the couch.” There was only room for one more person on the couch. I gripped his waist when he tried to stand.

“We stay together, or we go home,” I said into his ear. Elliott squeezed my hand as he took in all the grinding bodies and the people disappearing down halls or up the stairs together.

“Could we stick together standing up? I feel like an idiot sitting on your lap, Quentin—and if you say anything about me sitting on your lap last night, I swear you’ll regret it.”