Page 27 of Trick Play (Playing the Field #4)
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
Micah
Then
“I almost fucked up earlier,” Zeke blurts, still breathing heavily from our latest tumble in the sheets. We’ve only just collapsed in a heap of sweat and chuckles, but apparently, Zeke has something to get off his chest—as has become our usual in the vulnerable moments after sex.
I’m draped across his chest where I fell forward after riding him hard, so I have to lift up to meet his gaze. My elbow lands on his firm pec as I prop my chin up on my fist. “During the game?”
Earlier, the Rubies had played in their first game of the playoffs and promptly lost by a heartbreaking field goal. It was a big hit to the team, but the loss can’t be blamed on any one person. Tahegin was sidelined due to a hamstring injury, Zeke threw a pick on the first play, and the rest of the team couldn’t connect. Zeke has never been one to blame himself in the past, though, so it would be strange for him to be this hung up on an interception that—thank God—didn’t lead to a score.
“No, not the game,” he quickly corrects, and my theory goes out the window. “In the locker room afterward. I made a comment about the way Rix was looking at Gin. It was stupid and could have outed them to our teammates.”
I quirk a brow at that. “You think your teammates don’t know?” Those two make it so obvious.
He lets out a huff that might be a partial laugh. “Okay, but our friends don’t know that everyone knows. I don’t want them to blame me if everyone ‘finds out.’”
“Zeke,” I murmur softly and lean forward to peck his lips, humming when he lingers longer against me. “Even if you slipped up and ‘outed’ them because they can’t stop eye-fucking each other all day, every day, do you think Tahegin would hold that against you? He’s your best friend.”
“Would Rix hold it against you?” he asks, and the way he captures my gaze with unbridled openness, the worry for his friend’s secret relationship so apparent, only endears him more to me. He’s so concerned over something that hasn’t happened and that wouldn’t ultimately be a big deal. Another piece of my heart breaks off, falling from my chest and disappearing inside his with all the rest I’ve given him.
I take a moment to really consider. “Would he hold it against me? No. Would he never let me live it down? Yes. Anytime we disagreed, he’d probably pull the ‘but you outed me’ card, and then I’d be driving two hours to his favorite vegan shop for homemade hummus and pesto as an apology. He would definitely milk everything he could out of it.”
Zeke considers that, gnawing his lip and eyeing a spot over my shoulder. “It’s crazy,” he says after a minute. “I think Gin might be the total opposite. He’d probably think he did something to cause me to slip up. Like it was his fault Rix looked like he wanted to swallow him whole.”
“Ew.” I wrinkle my nose as an image I never want of my best friend and his boyfriend pops into my head unbidden. Focusing on what he said before that, I muse, “It’s kind of wild how different those two are but how perfect they are for each other. Like a key in a lock, they fill each other’s?—”
“Ew,” Zeke repeats my earlier statement, and he doesn’t even have to tell me how my last comment was about to sound. Ew is correct. No more comments about our friends filling or swallowing anything.
“Yeah, I didn’t think that through,” I chuckle.
He joins in, and we fall into one of those comfortable silences I’ve become so accustomed to when it comes to him. Our time together is usually spent three ways. Fifty percent sex, twenty-five percent personal conversation, and twenty-five percent quiet content. When he does break the silence, it’s to ask, “Do you think you’ll ever find a key to your lock?”
Our eyes meet, and neither of us can hold in our laughter.
I wipe my damp eyes as my belly begins to ache. “Why does that sound so gross? I just keep picturing— No, never mind. You know what I’m picturing.”
“Okay, okay. No more metaphors. But I am serious. Do you see yourself finding the one someday?” The lamp beside his bed casts enough light for me to see his wide smile, lingering from that laughter, as he looks at me with something I can’t describe. It’s hidden beneath mirth and wonder, but it’s there. A glint in his dark eyes.
“I think someone will have to choose me first,” I say without thinking.
Zeke doesn’t hesitate to dive deeper. “What does that mean?”
Here it is. The word vomit of honesty. I’ve kept this in for so long, but one little tug is all it takes to have me unraveling. “I’ve never been good at relationships,” I confess, then immediately change my mind. “No, that isn’t right. Relationships have never been good to me . Once I’m committed—and, trust me, it doesn’t take much—I will give every part of myself into that relationship, into that person. Everything , Zeke. I loaned a guy my car after our second date.” And I still don’t know where it is. He ghosted me, and it was either dip into my trust fund to buy a new one or bike everywhere I went. I still haven’t decided if I want to touch the generous sum left by my grandfather to purchase a car after I gave mine away like an idiot. “I’ve bought rounds at a bar for a guy and his frat buddies for hours because he was flirting with me, and I didn’t even get his number. One time, Hendrix had to kick a guy out of our apartment because he led me on, asked to stay for one night—which ended up being two weeks—and started pawning our stuff. In high school, I used to make an extra lunch for this guy who told me that he couldn’t afford the cafeteria lunch. He’d approached me out of the blue one day and kept complimenting me, telling me how cute and nice I was, and then he gave the poor, pitiful him story. It took me two months to realize he was actually in the lunch period after mine, and he’d meet up with his friends and laugh about what I’d brought him before going through the cafeteria line. He did it just because he could. Just because I let him. So that’s what I mean. It isn’t a matter of me finding someone I like because I always give everyone everything. It’s a matter of finding someone who likes me, who chooses me for me and not what I can give them in exchange.”
“Oh, bunny,” Zeke whispers, thumb swiping under my eye and coming away wet with tears. I hadn’t realized I’d started to show such emotion, but my awareness comes back in pieces. Yes, I’m crying but not sobbing, thankfully. We’ve sat up at some point. I’m straddling Zeke’s bare thighs, his back is against the headboard, and we’re both still naked. Luckily, I wore my waterproof mascara today. “You’ve got it all wrong. You did all that stuff because you’re a nice guy, and yeah, okay, maybe your heart got confused in the process. I bet you’d do all that stuff for a stranger who pretended to be nice to you, too. What happened earlier today? Oh, yeah. You gave your ticket to the lady at the gate who only bought one because she thought her kid would get in the stadium for free. She could have been a con artist trying to get them to let her in with the one ticket, or she could have been betting on a Good Samaritan like you. By the way, I owe our team manager homemade cookies for getting you in an extra seat, so you’re gonna be helping me bake those.”
I do something between a sniffle and a chuckle at the reminder. “Okay.”
“You don’t settle for any man, do you hear me?”
“I hear you.”
“Good. So I’ll ask again.” Squeezing my waist, Zeke tugs me closer. Our noses nearly touch as he gives me a proper mock glare. “Do you think you’ll find the one someday?”
I search his gaze and find nothing but absolute fierce determination. He wants me to know he’s serious. Wants me to know I deserve it one day. Little does he know, he’s already halfway to being the one for me.
But I’d never be the one for him. This pro-athlete playboy would never settle for a nobody like me.
Still, chest full of wishful thinking, I close my eyes to hide the new tears filling them and say, “Yeah. I think I will.” All the while, I’m thinking of him and how he’s checking every box, one by one, that no one else has stuck around long enough to do.