Page 12

Alone in my room, I paced, restless, my mind running through the events of the day, my stomach tightening with each new thought. Was Tyler with that Chris guy now? Had he gone out for a drink, or something else? Some late-night hookup that would leave him laughing in the way he did when he thought no one was watching? Would they slip out somewhere private, just the two of them, to hang out alone? The thought sat heavily in my chest, a weight that I couldn’t quite shake. The kind of weight that made me want to break something or knock on a door in the middle of the night just to find out if my suspicions were true.

Not for the first time, my gaze wandered to the mini-bar by the bed. I didn’t have to open it to know what lay inside: temptation and ruin. A final step in my downfall. But no; I wasn’t that person anymore.

Pacing across the room like a caged tiger, I rubbed my face, the beard scratching my sweaty palms, and went to the bathroom for a quick shower. If nothing else, it might help drown this desperate rage that had coiled inside me ever since the match. I scrubbed my skin until it was red and raw, the warm water growing cold, then wrapped the towel around my waist and hurled myself onto the bed. I didn’t understand what was happening to me. Was I going crazy?

I turned on the TV and started flicking through the channels, searching for something that would distract me. The endless stream of news, reality shows, and old movies didn’t do the trick. Not even the sports channels held my interest. When I landed on a soft-core porno, I paused. Is that what I needed? A quick tug to relieve some of this tension and ease my body into slumber? My hand strayed to my cock, palming it over the towel. Yeah , I sighed, as the chick on the screen unhooked her bra and exposed her rack. She had a glorious pair of tits. But as the camera zoomed on her lower half, still clad in a lacy white thong, the first thing I thought was how flat and small her butt was compared to Tyler’s.

Jesus, I was so far gone.

The knock came just as I’d started to let the thoughts fade, startling me. I leaped up from the bed, secured the towel around my waist, strode across the room, and opened the door. What emergency could make any of the boys go banging on my door at this hour? But there was only Tyler, standing in the hallway, leaning just a little too much on the doorframe, his eyes bright, a faint flush on his cheeks.

“Coach,” he murmured.

“Tyler.” His name came out rougher than I meant, my pulse quickening at the sight of him there, rumpled, his hair tousled, the smell of booze drifting off him. “Is everything all right? What are you doing here?”

He swayed a little, chuckling as if he’d forgotten the answer. Then he looked me in the eye, anguish contorting his pretty face. “I couldn’t do it. I wanted to go for it, but I couldn’t. Even when we joked and flirted, all I could think about… was you.”

“Get inside,” I said, not wanting someone to witness us quarreling, stepping aside to let him in.

He slipped past me, stumbling a little as he walked to the edge of the bed, and I closed the door behind us, the latch clicking softly in the quiet. I turned to him, a dozen words on the tip of my tongue, none of them strong enough to break the silence between us. I should have told him to go back to his room, sleep it off, come back when he could see straight. But something held me there, rooted to the spot, watching the way his gaze focused as it roamed over my body, a quiet warmth that seemed to reach past every wall I’d put up. He licked his lips as he looked at me, and I felt my cock stirring under my towel.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I forced myself to speak. “Tyler, did something happen with Chris? Tell me everything.” I told myself it was none of my business, that I had no right to feel this way, but jealousy was a slow burn, a steady ache that wouldn’t fade.

“Why do you care?” he said, meeting my eyes with a look that held nothing back, that same look of defiance, of quiet determination.

“I don’t know,” I said, stepping up to him. “But I do.”

He peeled off his jacket, tossing it on the bed without taking his eyes off me. “You do?”

“Yes. I—I care about you. A lot.”

Tyler smiled, a soft, dubious curve of his lips, and he stepped closer to me. His hands reached for me, tugging me close, his breath warm against my neck.

“What… What are you doing?” I breathed out, barely audible, the heat of him washing my face like waves crashing on the forbidden shore. I felt all the control I’d clung to slipping away, leaving me standing there, wondering if this was the moment when I would finally come undone.

“I want you,” he whispered. “So much. All this time…”

And then his mouth found mine, soft and insistent, and I felt myself surrender, every line I’d drawn between us slipping away. I kissed him back, harder than I meant to, our tongues meeting, tasting, swirling around each other. My hands were clutching at his back, crumpling the fabric of his hoodie, feeling his heat sear into me. His hands found my shoulders, his fingers gripping tight, and I felt his pulse quicken under my touch, his tequila-flavored breath coming in short, uneven bursts. It was a different kind of kiss—drunk, hungry—my first kiss with another man. So wrong. So right.

“Tyler,” I gasped, my voice breaking, but he didn’t stop, didn’t pull away, his hands sliding down my arms, pulling me even closer. He squeezed my pecs, his hands roaming through the fur, his lips hot, urgent, full of a need that we’d both kept buried for too long. As his hands traveled lower, sliding down my abs, under my towel and into my pubes, I forced myself to speak. “Wait. You’re drunk. We can’t do this. Not like this.”

“I’m not drunk,” he slurred against my neck. “Only drunk for you.”

He giggled, and I caught his hand just as it reached the base of my cock. He stilled, his body going slack against mine, his head resting on my shoulder. After a moment where he stayed quiet, I realized he’d passed out, his breath slow, steady, his warmth a silent comfort against the ache in my chest. I held him there, feeling the weight of him settle, the surge of guilt and longing washing over me in equal measure.

Gently, I picked him up and placed him down on the bed, letting him rest, his face peaceful in the dim light. I brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, my fingers lingering, and then stepped back, feeling the full weight of what had just happened sink in.

He’d come to me, crossed every line, every boundary, leaving me with the same raw ache I’d been fighting against for months. I looked at him there, sleeping in my bed, serene and unaware, and I felt that old resolve flicker, falter. Standing in the semi-dark, I knew there’d be no going back now .