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“Dude, that was amazing,” I manage. “How’d you run it so much?” I try to sound like it’s shop talk.
He gives me this little sideways smile. “I’m a runner,” he says.
Motherfucker lets his eyes do this little smolder thing, like he’s sex-camming and he’s being coy with me. It gets my dick up, and my fucking heartrate. And when I look at Jenna, I can tell she saw it, too.
Luckily, it doesn’t seem like Mom and Carl did. They ask what we’re doing and Jenna says some people are going to hang out at Sunny’s house.
“You mean Sunny’s barn?” My mom shoots me a look, and I make a funny you-caught-me face. “I know what the kids do out there,” she says. She looks at Ezra. “You two keep each other in line. You’ll be twenty-one soon enough, and if you really want to drink that badly, we’ll buy you a six-pack to share on the back porch.”
Cara and James walk by at that moment, and Cara beckons Jenna over.
“I’ll call you,” Jenna tells me as she goes.
“Josh, you don’t have a car,” my mom points out, on schedule.
“Ride back with us,” Carl suggests. “We’re not so bad.”
“He can ride with me,” Ezra offers. “Are you going to Sunny’s?”
I frown like I’m thinking about it. “Yeah, I guess so. For a little while. You going right now?”
“Yeah. I’m not staying long, though.” He rolls his shoulders, making a face. “Need another ice bath.”
My mom asks Ezra if they really do take ice baths in the locker room, and my dick gets up again as I think about him naked. Then Mom and Carl are walking away. It’s just Ezra and me—and the two dozen or so other people around. His eyes hold mine, and he’s got this little smile on. Almost dreamy.
“Dude, you were incredible,” I whisper. “Like, I’m shocked. I’m in awe. Every week, just like. Damn.”
Ezra looks down, and I knock his shoulder with mine. “We gotta walk fast to the car now,” he says. “Or I’m gonna grab you here in front of everybody.”
We start walking, and I tell him, “In the second quarter? That sideways sack from their monster linebacker—made me feel sick. You okay?”
“Yeah.” He smiles, looking tired and happy.
“What about the scouts? Where were they? Did you talk to them?” I almost forgot about the scouts that have been coming here every week—such was my awe at seeing Ezra play.
“Yeah. They were near your dad. I talked to them right after.”
“What did they say?”
He shrugs. “They were cool and stuff. Gave their names and cards. Said they’ll be back.”
“That’s amazing. Which ones showed up this week?”
“Bama again, Auburn again. Clemson,” he says, like he’s surprised. “Also UT, Stanford.”
“Stanford. Holy shit! What were your stats like from before you came here? I feel like a slacker that I haven’t studied up.”
We walk through a shadow at the corner of the brick school building, and his hand grabs mine, squeezing for a second. He lets it go with a soft laugh. “Can’t stay away,” he rasps.
“Two more minutes,” I whisper.
“I’m gonna tackle you into the backseat. Honestly I’m not.” He laughs. “Sorta need the ice bath.”
“Did you get one in the locker room tonight?”
“Yeah. But only for a minute or two. Those shared metal tubs are pretty gross.”
I laugh. “I can imagine. We don’t get that rough in soccer.”
He looks at me with his head cocked sideways, a look on his face that says he’s tired but wanting me the same way I want him. “It’s good to see you. Miller.” His voice is low and husky. His damp hair is hanging in his eyes. I want to kiss him so bad, I feel almost dizzy.
“Let’s run to the car,” he murmurs. “Like it’s a race.”
“So I can lose?” I laugh.
“I’ll be slow. I’m already getting sore.”
“Let’s jog. But laugh like it’s a race?” I suggest.
“I can laugh.” He gives me another one of those smiles. It’s this small, sweet smile—like it’s only for me.
“Go now?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
We’re supposed to jog, but I pull ahead, and then he jets off in front of me a little. “Fucking liar,” I gasp.
He laughs, turning around to give me a teasing grin. He manages to turn around and still reach the Jeep before me.
“You’re a cheater,” I pant as he pulls the driver’s side door open.
“Get in.” He gives me an intense, almost-dazed look. Then we’re in the car and he’s just looking at me.
“Hey,” I whisper, smiling.
He leans down, putting his head in my lap, and locks his arms around my waist, squeezing me so tight it almost hurts.
“My Miller,” he whispers.
I stroke a hand through his hair, looking around as I do to be sure no one notices he’s leaning into my lap.
“Ezzie.” I hug him as well as I can without leaning over. Then he’s up. He’s looking at me—smiling at me—looking rueful as he cranks the car.
