Page 15 of Trick Play (Playing the Field #4)

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

Zeke

Now

The ocean waves splash against the boat, reminding me of the beach back home, but I don’t dare look over my shoulder at the vast expanse of blue. It’s bad enough watching Tahegin peek over the balcony railing to point out birds or dolphins he sees, oohing and ahhing. I’ve planted my ass in a sturdy deck chair with my back firmly to the open water, content to watch the two men still inside the suite.

Micah has been talking at Hendrix for nearly an hour now. At , not to , because the latter man has spoken zero words since I began watching them. Tahegin and I had left them earlier to get breakfast for everyone, and when we got back, Gin ushered them to his room so he and I could sit out on the balcony—which was not my idea—since my room has blankets blocking the windows and exterior door.

I’ve been watching Micah gesture emphatically as he confides in Hendrix, who has remained silent but attentive in turn. Micah bounces between shoving fresh fruit in his mouth to climbing up things he shouldn’t. Hendrix has already pulled him down from the kitchenette counter and the piano.

Seriously, what is up with all these pianos?

“Do you think he’s okay?” I blurt, interrupting Tahegin going on and on about what he swears is a shark fin in the water below. I refuse to look.

Glancing over his shoulder, Gin eyes Hendrix as he coaxes Micah from standing on top of a barstool. The little guy has surprisingly good balance. “He climbs stuff when he gets worked up,” Gin responds. “You know this. He’s fine. Rix will talk him down.”

“Yeah, but . . .” I sigh in defeat. Used to, before the breakup, Micah would confide in me, would climb me and not dangerous stuff he could fall off. Now, I’m useless, stuck on the sideline watching as someone else gets to be that support for him.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it. He’ll calm down.” Gin pats my shoulder reassuringly before stealing a piece of veggie quiche off my plate. “Hey, while we’re stuck out here, I’ve been meaning to ask how you’ve been. Other than yesterday morning, we haven’t gotten to hang out much recently. It seems like every time I hit you up on a weekend, you’re busy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re seeing someone.”

“I could be,” I grumble at my plate.

Tahegin laughs. The kind of laugh that has him clutching his belly with tears in his eyes.

Okay, I know I’ve never publicly dated anyone, but sheesh. Would it be so crazy if I was?

“That was a good one,” Gin says as his chuckles die down. “You are the playboy of the NFL. I’d love to see the day you get tied down.”

“You literally booked a couples cruise because you thought Micah and I were dating,” I snap.

“Oh, please. I said that to rile you both up. I know y’all are just having fun. You’re too promiscuous to date, and Micah swore off relationships before he and Rix graduated college. You two are, like, the perfect fuck buddies.”

I dare to turn my head and look at him, trying to gauge whether he is joking or not. “He what?”

Gin points distractedly toward the water, but I refuse to follow his gaze. Just knowing that drop is there right behind me . . . “Ooh, shark! Yeah, something about getting his heart broken too many times.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Why would you need to?”

Because we dated . Because he let me in, and then he broke my heart. Because it means something if he swore off guys but still dated me. What is that meaning? I don’t know, but it’s another piece of the Micah puzzle I’m stuck trying to figure out.

“So what have you been up to?” Tahegin asks again.

“Been hanging out with Chris.”

“Chris who?”

Inside the suite, Micah finally appears to calm down. He and Hendrix take a seat on the couch and pick at fruit from breakfast while talking softly.

I smile a bit, grateful he’s no longer freaking out.

Hopefully, not all of it was about me showing up shirtless in his work video call.

Tahegin waves a hand in front of my face. “Earth to Kiss. Hello? Chris who?”

I swat him away. “Christopher Richardson.”

“Sex club guy?” He raises a brow.

“The retired tackle for the San Francisco Dragons. And it’s BDSM,” I correct in an unintentionally grouchy tone. “Not ‘sex club.’”

“Woah, hey.” Placing a hand on my shoulder, he meets my eyes, his bright blue ones full of sincerity. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you two were so close or that it’s not okay to call it a sex club. That’s my mistake. I promise I won’t make it again. Forgive me?”

My lip twitches up in a grin because how could I not forgive him? Gin is one of the sweetest, most genuine guys I’ve ever known. “Of course.”

“So, what have you and retired tackle Christopher Richardson been up to?” He shimmies his shoulders with interest, and I release a puff of laughter.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Not true. I promise I’ll believe you. Cross my heart.” He makes the sign over his chest and everything.

“Well, we’ve been—” I cut myself off, realizing something. “Ah, shit. I can’t tell you.”

Those blue eyes go wide. “Why not?”

I shake my head apologetically. “It’s not my secret to tell.” Chris hasn’t mentioned whether he’s out or coming out or if I need to keep our visits to Mischief a secret.

Brows furrowing, he mulls over my words. “Does this have anything to do with what you mentioned at your house yesterday? I told you to leave that shit at port.”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” I point out.

“No, I asked what you’ve been up to,” he counters. “You’re the one who started talking about secrets.”

“Mm. I don’t think so. It was all you.”

He casts me a deadpan look. “You always do this, and you’re always wrong.”

“Maybe I’m right this time.”

“Yeah, and pigs are flying.”

I roll my eyes but choose to give up. He doesn’t humor me like Micah does, so it’s no fun to keep going. “Okay, actually, there is one thing Chris mentioned while we were hanging out. Several times, in fact. I haven’t really had an answer, and I’ve been meaning to ask you and Rix . . .”

Turning in his chair, Tahegin gives me his undivided attention—another thing that makes him so great. No matter what or when, if you need him, he’s there. “Hit me.”

I clear my throat, feeling stupid for even having to ask. “Remember how the league passed that rule at the end of the season before we knew you were back on our team?”

He nods as if to say, “How could I forget?”

“Okay. And you remember how, in response, all the guys in the queer Facebook group said we’d have your guys’ backs? I even, uh, changed the group name?”

“To the Allied Players Association, yeah.”

“Right. And we were all pumped to fight the rule, but then you told us you’re back on the same team with Rix, which means the rule doesn’t affect you guys.”

“Yup.”

I scratch at a spot of quiche staining my shirt above my right pec—not that I really care because, let’s face it, there’s always food on me somewhere—and refuse to meet his inquisitive gaze. “Well, Chris was wondering if we still needed to band together or something, I don’t know. I told him you guys have a lawyer, but he said that since I created this group, he assumed I’d be heading it up. I guess I’m just wondering if there’s something I should be doing to help . . . I mean, I’m, like, the group leader, aren’t I?”

Tahegin stares at me for a minute. No joke. Sixty long, silent seconds.

And then, he erupts into laughter.

It’s stronger than his first bout earlier by a lot. Crocodile tears drip from his eyes, and he doubles over with intense guffaws. Inside the room, Micah and Hendrix send us curious glances but don’t make a move to come outside. I’m left alone with Gin’s hysterics until he eventually, slowly, calms.

“Kiss, buddy.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone is expecting you to be a leader.”

Not sure I like that phrasing, I frown. “I’m the captain of our team, Gin. I can be a leader.”

“You, my friend, are the fun parent.”

“What?”

“Come on, man. Let’s be honest. You aren’t the responsible one. Seriously. How many times have your neighbors called the cops because your parties are too loud and reckless at all hours?”

“Well—”

“And you’re a playboy, remember? No one is going to take you seriously while you’re posting pictures kissing a hundred strangers a week. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not slut shaming. I’m just saying, you’re like the fun uncle who parties and has a new spouse every month. He’s cool. He’s vibin’. He’s . . . not a role model, but he’ll support the shit out of you, ya know? That’s you. We’re not going to ask you to change all that about yourself just because you named a Facebook group something official-sounding. You don’t need to worry about it.”

After his spiel, I’m left feeling . . . strange. I don’t consider myself irresponsible in the least. I don’t blow my salary on stupid shit. I donate to a lot of good causes. I keep up with my bills, cook my own food, and I’m never late to practice. The most reckless thing I do is kiss strangers, but I’m safe about it. Plus, the attention on me draws the media away from others who may not want it. Like when Chris was caught outside the BDSM club, I posted a whole album of photos of me kissing residents at one of the local nursing homes—and raised fifty thousand dollars to donate to the home, which I matched with my own fifty grand. It may be unorthodox, but I do good! And goddamnit, I could do good by heading up the Allied Players, too!

“We’re ready to go,” Hendrix announces from the doorway.

I’d completely missed him standing and opening the balcony door. Behind his wide shoulders, Micah fidgets with his fingernails as if embarrassed for having a small freak-out. I want to tell him it’s okay. I want to wrap him in my arms and kiss his anxieties away.

Too bad it seems I’m one of them.

“Well,” Tahegin hums as he stands and checks his stupid itinerary. “We missed our reservation for mini golf, but we can still make the pottery class if we hurry. Let’s go!”

“Aw, man. Not the mini golf,” I groan genuinely, having totally been looking forward to that.

“Pottery?” Micah whispers, aghast, as he casts a wide-eyed look at his long, perfectly painted nails.

And then there’s Hendrix’s grumble of “Who the fuck plays mini golf on a boat?”