“You absolutely made a face.”
Rizzo was grinning, and CJ knew he was fine, so he turned his full attention to Evan and tried to read him. There was still tension around his mouth, and he was still mostly frowning, but his shoulders weren’t locked anymore, and he looked thoughtful instead of cornered. Rizzo leaned back and grabbed a fry from Evan’s plate before Evan could stop him.
“Still,” Rizzo said with a grin, “if you two are secretly in love or whatever, you need to work on being less obvious.”
“We’re not secretly in love,” CJ said. Too quickly, judging by the amused look on Rizzo’s face and the raised eyebrows on Evan’s.
Rizzo pointed a fry at him. “Quick panic denials aren’t going to make people believe you.”
Evan turned slowly to look at CJ, and he felt the heat crawl up his neck.
“Don’t.”
Evan studied him for a second before a small smile appeared. “You look a little rattled there, bud.”
“I’m not rattled,” CJ protested.
“No?”
CJ looked away. “Shut up.”
Rizzo chuckled. “Seriously though. You guys have nothing to worry about with me.” He was looking right at Evan when he said it, and Evan nodded once in acknowledgment. “And I’m pretty sure the rest of the guys haven’t noticed. But unless you’re planning on letting them in on the secret, you two need to be more subtle.”
“Thanks,” Evan said after a moment.
It was said quietly, but CJ could hear the sincerity anyway. It was a weighty moment, so naturally Rizzo had to ruin it.
“I’ve gotta ask though. Why do you let Hartman keep stealing your fries instead of making him get his own?” Rizzo stood and reached for the plate of fries again, pulling his hand back with a gasp when Evan smacked his hand away with a fork.
Rizzo looked at CJ. “See? Mean to me, but he shares with you. Suspicious.” Rizzo pointed between them one last time. “You two are weird, but I support it.”
He sauntered off before they could answer, and silence fell over the table. Evan snagged another fry, then paused halfway to his mouth and held it out to CJ. CJ took it automatically and their fingers brushed. It was the smallest contact, but it was still enough to make CJ’s heart skip.
20
EVAN
By the firstweek of July, the San Diego Barracudas were in first place with a five-game cushion, Evan’s knees hurt in ways that ice and ibuprofen barely touched, and CJ had quietly moved into every private part of Evan’s life. It hadn’t happened all at once. There wasn’t a clean line that divided then from now, or a turning point dramatic enough to make it clear. It happened in increments so subtle that Evan didn’t notice until he was already standing in the middle of it.
CJ left a hoodie at Evan’s one night and never remembered to take it back, and eventually it wound up folded between Evan’s own sweatshirts. An unfamiliar toothbrush appeared next to his bathroom sink one morning, and he’d stared dumbly at it for a long moment before he decided to ignore what it might mean. Two days later, though, he’d opened an empty drawer in CJ’s bathroom, set a new toothbrush inside, then closed it quickly as if speed would erase the meaning of the gesture.
It didn’t.
Then there were the nights when Evan decided to stay at his place, and CJ would knock on the door, let himself in with the key Evan sometimes regretted giving him, and collapse face-firstonto the couch. He would declare that he was famished but too exhausted to move or cook, and Evan would call him dramatic before going to heat up leftovers.
They were ordinary moments, but it was the ordinary that was most dangerous. Getting too comfortable in the ordinary moments could make a person reckless.
Secrets survived on the adrenaline of staying hidden. They survived on stolen hours behind locked doors, heated looks across crowded rooms when everyone’s attention was on someone else, and carefully timed exits that no one would question. Secrets came with the understanding that anything good could vanish if the wrong person looked too closely.
Ordinary moments could make a person start imagining something more permanent.
Evan had spent years learning how to stop imagining things he couldn’t have, which only made him more irritated at himself for wanting more every time CJ left.
He was towelingoff from an after-practice shower when Coach Reyes strode into the clubhouse holding a piece of paper in one hand. Practice had been rough, and from the look on his face, Coach was already over having to deal with everyone in the room.
“Quiet down,” Reyes barked. Nobody heard him, so he raised his voice. “I said shut up.”
That did the trick. Music cut off mid-song and conversations died abruptly. Across the room, a rookie froze halfway through pulling on one sock and looked at Evan with wide eyes. Evan rolled his eyes with a smile and gestured for the kid to relax before turning his attention back to Reyes.
