Trick Play Page 2

  The humidity is brutal today, and though the sun’s starting to set, the air’s still hot and thick. We’re both sweating just from the walk out to the parking lot, but Luke’s the only one who makes it look good. In a white tee and Wranglers, sweat glistening on his muscled arms as he climbs up into the cab, he looks like every country boy fantasy I’ve ever had. All he needs is a few smudges of dirt—the attractive kind of dirt—and maybe a Stetson and I’ll be set for the next time I have to jack it.

  Which is probably going to be tonight.

  Erica comes around and gives me a look. I can feel heat rise to my cheeks. She must’ve seen me watching Luke. Normally I wouldn’t worry about it, but…

  “You going to tell him?” she asks, her voice quiet even though Luke’s got the heavy door shut and the radio on.

  Right. The only problem with Erica seeing me pining after Luke is that she knows. She knows way too fucking much, thanks to me getting drunk off my ass six months ago and telling her all my problems like she was my therapist.

  “Come on, Erica. It’s only going to make things weird between us. It’s better this way.”

  “For who?” She gives me that look I hate—half pity, half impatience. “You need to tell him, Brandon. You never know, he might…”

  My heart lurches at that, but before I can send my own hopes into the stratosphere—only to see them crash back down a few seconds later when she completes her sentence—Luke rolls down his window and sticks out his head.

  “Yo, unless you two are going to make out or something, get your asses into the truck!”

  I blush harder at that. Erica just flashes him a wicked grin. “You saying you want to watch?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe. Might be super boring, though. I already know what you kiss like.” He yawns, and Erica flips him off. “I don’t know what Brandon kisses like, though, so I guess that’s something.”

  Erica laughs so hard at that she has to cover it with a cough. I shoot her a glare, but she’s undeterred. She just pats me on the back as she walks around the front of the truck, then climbs up into the cab. My cheeks are still on fire when I lift myself up there and squeeze in beside her.

  And all I can think as Luke drives the three of us to Mac’s is that I’d be more than happy to give him a firsthand demonstration of how I kiss.

  You going to tell him?

  Right. There’s one big problem with my fantasies, even beyond the fact that Luke is straight.

  He has no idea I’m gay. I’m lying to my best friend. And I don’t plan to change that anytime soon.

  3

  Luke

  By the time we make it to Mac's, the sun's started to set over the ocean. The beach is lit up by its rays, and the water's reflecting back lots of orange and pink and yellow. It's pretty fucking amazing, and one of the reasons I've always loved coming here, though fuck if I'm ever going to admit that.

  The first time Brandon, Erica, and I ever came to Mac's was right after I bought this truck. Worked all summer bailing hay and doing a bunch of other odd jobs to save the $500 I needed for it. Rusted out floorboards, a door that sticks most of the time, and an AC that only turns on if the wipers are running, but when I was sixteen, I didn't care.

  The three of us lived out in the middle of nowhere, in a rural town a couple hours from Eastshore. Our first road trip ended up being out here. We did a tour, then hit the beach, and found Mac's on our way. Place is literally just a shack with a window cut out of it to serve customers, and only the locals really know about it, but damn if they don't serve the best burgers I've ever had.

  The diesel knocks as I back into one of the parking spaces that overlooks the beach. Erica and Brandon climb out and make for the tailgate, while I go and get our order. Three sacks of food and fifteen bucks later--this place seriously knows how to please the college crowd--I join them.

  "We were taking bets on how many burgers you'd slam before you got to the truck," Erica says.

  "How many'd you guess?" I ask with a grin.

  I've never been ashamed of my appetite. I got three burgers and a large order of fries just for myself. I'm still a growing boy, after all.

  "Two,” Brandon says.

  "Four," Erica puts in.

  "Guess you both lose," I say, dumping out the sandwiches between us. "They're all here."

  As we unwrap our burgers, I've got Brandon to my left and Erica to my right. I love my teammates, I really do. I love playing for Eastshore. But if these two weren't here, I wouldn't be here, either. It's going to suck when we all end up doing different things after college, and it's hard to believe that's less than two years away now.

  But just like everything else in my life, I try not to let the sad shit get to me. Instead, I stuff my face with an amazing, juicy cheeseburger and look out at the ocean as the tide comes in.

  "That game today was crazy," Erica finally says.

  I can almost feel Brandon stiffen. I know he doesn't want to talk about it, but I'm pretty much in the same camp as Erica. The sooner we talk about this shit, the sooner we can all move on.

  "Yeah," I say. "I think Arkansas’ just trying to get some early movement going. They know they don't stand a chance once they get into the back half of their season."

  "Mm," Erica agrees.

  "You really think that's all it is?"

  I look over at Brandon, and just like I figured, his brow is creased and he looks about ten years older than he actually is. Dude's always been this way, though. Super serious. And usually I'm the only one who can get him to lighten up.

  "What, you buy into that 'curse' bullshit the paper printed? Thanks for that, by the way," I say, lightly elbowing Erica.

  She just grins. "What can I say. People love their superstitions. Especially when they involve football."

  "It's not superstition if it's actually happening," Brandon grumbles.

  I arch a brow at that, and he shakes his head.

  "Not the curse. Just... come on, man. Last year was bad. And everybody figures this year is going to be the same. If we go off today's game, they're right."

  I scoff. "We can't just go off one game, dude. You're acting like the season's already over."

  He sighs, then takes a sip of his shake. I watch him--watch the lines he shouldn’t have in his face relax--and wait to eat my last burger until he says whatever it is he's going to say.

  Because I can tell he's got something.

  "I'm not trying to be that asshole who gets worked up over one bad game. I just... can't handle a repeat of last year, Luke."

  "Yeah, let's not do that. I actually had to write about basketball and soccer for once. Gross."

  I can't say I blame him there. Last year sucked. Big time. And it all pretty much started once the press forgot who we were. We turned into another backwater school the rest of the league thinks shouldn't even be playing Division I ball.

  Erica had a theory about that, and I can't help but bring it up now.

  "You remember what you wrote last year? Around November or something?" I ask.

  "I wrote a lot of things in November," she says, taking an impressive bite of her burger.

  "The thing about us not being the Rainbow Tigers anymore."

  I can almost feel Brandon frown beside me.

  "Sure, I remember," she says.

  "You really believe that?" Brandon asks my question for me.

  She shrugs. "Seems as likely as anything else. I mean, yeah, logic says you just lost some of your top guys and the freshmen haven't stepped up yet, but once Mitch left, the press pretty much forgot you guys existed."

  Yeah. After Hawk and Griff came out as a couple--on national TV, no less--we earned the nickname the Rainbow Tigers for having gay and bi guys on the team. The name stuck even harder when Mitch and Dante hooked up. But now? Now we're just a bunch of straight bros playing football. Nothing newsworthy about that.

  "Sucks we don't have anybody on the team who's gay now."

  Brandon coughs like he's just in
haled his shake straight into his lungs. I smack him on the back, and he raises a hand to let me know he's not dying.

  "Yeah, it sure does suck," Erica says.

  Weird tone of voice. Erica and I have been friends for so long I've learned all her tells. That tone means 'I know more than you do, jackass.' Which, okay. She usually does. Maybe she knows somebody on the team who’s gay. She spends a lot of time with the guys, doing interviews and shit for the paper.

  But I'm not about to ask. It's not my business if one of my teammates is gay. If he wanted me to know, I'd know.

  "Seriously?" Brandon asks, his voice scratchy from his little choking fit.

  "Seriously what?" I hop off the tailgate and ditch my trash in the can nearby. "Maybe that's not why the press is ignoring us, but I'm not even talking about them. Being the Rainbow Tigers gave us... I don't know, an identity."

  "An identity not everybody liked," Erica points out.

  "Yeah, well." I kick a little stone off the edge of the parking lot. It skips down onto the beach. "Some people are idiots. What are you gonna do?"

  I'll be honest, I grew up in a home that wasn't all that positive toward gay people. I guess all of us did, considering where we came from. My dad was the worst, though. He loves that I'm playing football; super masculine, I guess. But when he found out I was going to a team with 'queers' on it, he about lost his shit and ordered me to either go someplace else, or join the Army.

  Like hell that was happening.

  He's chilled out some, but I don't know. Some of the things he says have stuck with me. Being here has broadened my horizons, though, and isn't that what college is supposed to do?

  "You think if some guy outs himself, the team's magically going to recover from this slump?” Brandon asks.

  Erica shoots him a look I can't read. Damn. So much for thinking I knew every look she could give.

  "I dunno." I run a hand through my hair. "Maybe. But just one gay guy being on the team isn't news anymore, man. It isn't what made us the Rainbow Tigers. We need two guys who are like... gay for each other."

  Brandon gives me a flat stare, like he can't believe what I'm saying right now. I know I can come off as a little naïve sometimes, maybe even insensitive. I can't blame my old man for all of that--some of it's just the way I am.

  But as the idea takes hold in my brain, it doesn't feel all that stupid.

  "Just think about it. I mean, if you found out about two guys on the team who were dating, you'd probably report it, right?" I ask Erica.

  She shifts on the tailgate, balling up her burger wrapper. "If they agreed to it, sure. It's a good human interest piece. But I'm not running a tabloid here."

  I shake my head. "It wouldn't have to be trash. It could be an actual article. A human interest piece, like you said. And maybe the local papers pick it up, and it ends up online, and before you know it, ESPN's paying attention to us again."

  "Wow," Erica says, hopping down from the tailgate to get rid of her own trash. "I don't know what you're smoking, but I want some."

  "Seriously, man. This is... far-fetched. Even for you," Brandon adds.

  That hurts a little. I know I'm not the smartest guy in our group. The chances of me working at my dad's garage after school are pretty damn near one hundred percent. But I don't let Brandon see that it bothers me. I know he doesn't mean it like that.

  "You remember what it was like when Mills and Erickson hooked up? Fans went crazy. The stadium was packed every week; people drove all the way to Tennessee just to be there to support us. We have some loyal fans, but most of them don't do that. Not when we're just another football team."

  "Yeah, but there's probably just as many people out there who stopped supporting you guys. And some of them have been vocal about it. Trust me," Erica mutters.

  "Who cares about them? All I know is that when we were the Rainbow Tigers--when we had those fans behind us, and the media watching us--we were... I don't know. More than we would've been otherwise."

  "I don't know, Luke..." Erica frowns, crossing her arms over her chest.

  I look to Brandon, hoping he'll back me up. But he isn't even looking at me. His jaw is set in a hard line like he's angry about something.

  Damn.

  "If you think I'm crazy, you can just say it, man."

  "I don't think you're crazy," he says, wadding up his trash. "But it doesn't matter. As far as any of us know, nobody on the team is dating. So whatever scheme you were cooking up, you can forget about it."

  He sounds almost disappointed, and I can't tell if it's because he wanted this idea to work, or if it's for some other reason. Usually I can read Brandon pretty well, too, but sometimes he shuts down. Hard. Like when he got into a fight with his old man and ended up having to stay with me for the summer before we got our dorm assignment.

  I trust him, though. I trust that no matter what's going on with him, or with us, our friendship will survive it.

  I'm pretty sure the two of us could survive anything, and that's when the idea hits me.

  Brandon and I could be the guys who come out as a couple.

  He probably won’t go for it. We’re good friends, but pretending to be a couple probably destroys his rep as far as the ladies are concerned. Then again, Brandon hasn’t dated anybody for a while, so maybe it won’t be a big deal to him.

  I have to try.

  “You and me can do it.”

  4

  Brandon

  Six words grind my whole world to a screeching halt.

  You and me can do it.

  I run them back in my head, rearrange them into a jumble and then put them back into place. I feel like I'm analyzing a chessboard, trying to make sure that what I'm seeing is what's actually going on; that the play I'm about to make is the best possible one.

  Only I don't have a play. I can't think that far ahead. All I can do is just stare at Luke as I try and process what he's saying.

  "Hear me out, dude," he says, his tone defensive, like he expects me to jump down his throat.

  I might just do that. But it won't be the way he's expecting.

  "No," Erica says suddenly.

  I turn to look at her, and I see she's gone sheet white. That's probably what I look like, too. But judging from the fear in her eyes--and the words I can practically see on the tip of her tongue--I'm not putting up as much resistance to this bass-ackwards idea as I should be.

  "Don't tell me you're jealous," Luke teases, not picking up on her signals.

  He's punished for it with an icy glare, and I see him shrink a little. I almost get protective of him. Then I remember Erica's defending me.

  "I'm not jealous. It's just a shitty thing to do. You can't fake a relationship with someone."

  "Pretty sure that should be Brandon's decision," he says.

  "Brandon is your best friend. He always goes along with your schemes, Luke. I'm not letting you rope him into this one."

  The scene plays out before me like it's happening to someone else. And maybe it is, because they're talking about me like I'm not even there. I'm waiting for Luke to ask why the fuck Erica is getting so savage over me, when I can just say no for myself.

  And as much as I trust Erica, I'm also waiting for her to accidentally blurt out my secret in a fit of anger. And I can't deal with that.

  Plus... she’s right. As the reality of this very surreal situation takes shape in my mind, I realize I'm not nearly as against this idea as I should be.

  "I appreciate you going to bat for me," I say, "but I can speak for myself." I nod to Luke. "Finish what you were going to say."

  Erica stares at me, gaping. And then I get the death glare that pierces straight into my spine, sending a cold chill through my body.

  "Wow," she says. "Okay, sure, Brandon. You wanna do this, be my fucking guest."

  I wince as she hops down from the tailgate. She heads toward the path that leads down to the beach, and after a few moments, I can see her down there, over the ridge.

 
; "What the hell is her problem?" Luke asks me.

  She knows I'm making a mistake. She knows I've already partway made up my mind about this, and I'm making the wrong decision.

  "I don't know. She's a reporter. Probably doesn't like the idea of somebody faking a relationship just for press coverage."

  Luke frowns. "Yeah. But it's not even really about the press coverage. I won't ask her to run the story. Maybe nobody'll pick it up. I guess I just feel like if the team has an identity to rally around, we'll be okay. You get it, right?"

  I shouldn't get it. And in a lot of ways, I don't. The chances of Luke's scheme working out the way he wants are slim to none. It's much more likely it'll all explode in both of our faces.

  But until that time...

  My mind conjures up images of what it would be like to openly date Luke Trent. We'd have to make it look real, so we'd at least be holding hands and sitting close sometimes. Maybe even a stolen kiss or two.

  And if Luke finds out he likes those stolen kisses...

  God, this is the absolute worst. It's every self-indulgent fantasy I've ever had about magically turning Luke gay. But… there's a chance this way, and there isn't a chance otherwise.

  "Yeah, I get it. You're right, the team's a mess. And maybe having that identity back will help."

  "Right!" He jumps up from the tailgate, and he's got that excited puppy look in his eyes that I can't help but love. "And it's not like we're hurting anybody. This way, we don't out anyone, we can control everything that happens, and if something goes down, we can deal with it."

  We will be outing someone. Me. I'm not sure how to get around that. I can play like I'm straight; like I'm not seriously turned on by the idea of being Luke's fake boyfriend. But how long is that going to last?

  Maybe just long enough, some part of my brain whispers.

  "And what happens after the season's over? Are we just going to... reveal it was fake?"