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We hear the guys coming before we see them, so I quickly let go of Thomas’s face and back away. The whole team crowds the locker room, followed by Coach Johnson, who looks steaming mad.
“I’ll get out of here,” Thomas says before tossing the bloody towel in the garbage. He quickly ducks out through the crowd of rowdy, sweating, bleeding rugby players.
I immediately catch the way Richards is watching him. Then his eyes suddenly land on me, and I feel like I have it written on my forehead.That’s the guy I’m fucking.
The coach gives us a verbal ass whooping about learning to keep our cool and letting shitheads like the guy on that team be shitheads. It’s a wholebe the bigger manspeech, and I feel like it’s directed at me. I always keep my cool. I amalwaysthe bigger man, but this time, I fell victim to the anger because it’s not fucking fair. It’s not fair that he can be a dick, but I have to let it slide. I’m fucking tired of it. Of all of it.
After Coach’s done giving us hell, we hit the showers, and by the time I exit the locker room, it’s dark outside. Crossing the parking lot, I notice there’s no sight of the familiar BMW I want to see waiting for me. And I hate how disappointed I feel.
In just three days, I’ve gotten myself stuck on this guy. Now at least one to three people know the secret I wasn’t ready to reveal. So as I climb into my car, I know what I should do. And it’s not even close to what I want to do. Or what I actually do.
10
THOMAS
It’s past ten, and he’s still not here. After the moment in the locker room, I was sure things were good between us. He didn’t seem to care so much about hiding our relationship when he was hauling my ass out of that brawl and into the locker room. I figured he would come over after his shower, so I didn’t bother waiting for him. I didn’t want to make things too obvious.
Now I’m second-guessing myself. Did he think my leaving was my way of saying I didn’t want him to come over? Am I thinking about Pax far too much for a guy I just met a couple days ago? Definitely. Does that stop me? Absolutely not.
I should go to bed. Pretend it doesn’t bother me whether Pax comes over or not or where he chooses to sleep tonight. It’s none of my business. He’s just a student, a guy I’ve had a couple sexual encounters with this week.
I make it to my bedroom, where I’m supposed to be getting into pajamas, but I can’t move because he’s not here, and I truly expected him to show up. There’s only one place I know he could be, but if I check and he’s not there, then it really is out of my hands, and I’ll need to let it go.
So, I get in my car and drive the eight miles off the freeway to the mechanic shop. The garage bay is closed, but I can see a light on through the window panes along the top of the garage. After getting out of my car, I march up to the door and bang on it.
“Pax! Open up!”
I hear movement on the other side, but he doesn’t open it right away.
“Pax!” I yell again and continue to bang. “What the fuck? You can’t just ghost me like that!”
“I didn’t ghost you,” he replies from the other side. I’m relieved to hear his voice, to know he’s actually here and I’m not yelling to no one or even worse, a complete stranger.
“Can you open the door so we can just talk?”
“Go home, Thomas.”
“Why? What happened? Is this about the fight? About what that guy called you? Because he’s a fucking idiot, Pax. He doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together, so don’t let him ruin your night.”
“It’s not about him,” he groans.
“Then what is it about?”
It’s silent for a moment before the heavy door starts to rise. On the other side, Pax stands there in sweatpants and no shirt, giving me an uninhibited view of his scars again, and I wonder if maybe he's doing it on purpose. It’s like he’s trying to remind me of who he is and what is wrong with him, and I’m not sure how to make him understand that there isnothingwrong with him.
“I don’t want a relationship, Thomas,” he says, holding the garage door open above his head. He’s nothing but biceps and traps, and my mouth actually waters with the need to touch him.
“That’s my line,” I reply, which is almost funny. Because that is normally the game I play, but this time, it doesn’t feel the same, and we both know it. When he doesn’t react to my almost-joke, I continue. “I get it. Things have moved fast between us. It’s been a hell of a week. I’m not trying to rope you into a relationship, but if there’s something good between us, why are you running from it?”
He nods toward the shop behind him, and I walk inside so he can shut us both in, away from the cool fall breeze. It’s unusually brisk tonight. There is a makeshift bed on the floor that looks like a thin foam pad covered in blankets. Nearby, a space heater is humming, which explains why it’s a bit warmer in here than I expected.
Keeping his back to me, he walks over to the tool bench and busies himself by putting things away.
“I’m not running from it,” he replies. “I’m just being cautious.”
“This isn’t cautious, Pax. It’s resistant.”
“Why do you even care?” he yells back, starting to get defensive. “You act like this with all the guys you hook up with?”
