Page 126 of Touchdown, Tennessee

“Gray,” I said. “And you’re Finn?”

The bigger guy nodded at me. “Andrew was here a few days ago and he was telling us all about aguy he knowswho wears a lot of black and drives a cool car. I assume that’s you?”

“Peachel was talking about me?”

I glanced over and saw Andrew’s faint pink blush settling on his cheeks, just in time.

“I was telling them that you’ve helped me in my Roman Empire class. That’s all.”

“And he also told us you were hot,” Ori said. “You’re definitely good-looking, even though I must admit Finn is moremytype.”

“Have you two been together a long time?” I asked.

“Technically? Less than a year,” Ori said, a smile coming over his face. “But in reality, we probably belonged together forever. We were just too stupid to see it, before.”

“We grew up together,” Finn said. “Admitted we’re in love recently, but Ori’s right. I’ve always loved him.”

“They don’t need our life story,” Ori said, grabbing Finn’s hand and kissing the back of it. “Let’s read this article.”

I’d never felt embarrassment much before in my life.

Truthfully, Ihadalways been kind of confident in my work.

Anyone could read my articles, and I would stand by them.

But watching all of the Hard Spot regulars, and Andrew’s friends, reading my article… it was different than anything I’d ever felt.

Pride, definitely.

But also something veryraw.

I’d poured more of my own emotion into this article than ever before.

It wasn’t just a cold observer’s look at the Tempests and Peachel. It felt incredibly personal, like people were going to discover something aboutmefrom reading it, too.

“Wow,” Ori said, nodding his head as he finished it. “This is an incredible portrait of the team. Finn, why don’t you ever write aboutmelike this?”

“Hey. I’m not exactly a writer,” Finn said. “I’m a massage therapist. I give you fuckingincrediblefree massages.”

“You really do,” Ori said.

“That’s not good enough for you, my love?” Finn asked, teasing him.

“It’s the best thing in the world, and you know it,” Ori told him, squeezing his ass for a moment. “Just sayin’, maybe write me a little love poem?”

Finn cracked a smile, shaking his head. “I hate you. And love you, too. How’s that for a poem?”

“Best one ever.”

The other guys in the bar were already many drinks deep.

I realized that I didn’t feel uncomfortable about it, either.

Max was behind the bar slinging drinks instead of tossing them back, but his boyfriend, Draven, was polishing off whiskey shots like a professional.

Jesse Sanocki, the hockey heartthrob, was in the middle of some kind of drinking game with Mason, the two of them intertwining their arms and taking shots of some bright green concoction together.

Andrew must have seen me glancing around at the rowdy crowd.