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“Okay, now you can be totally honest. How was it for you?” I ask, knotting it off and tossing it beside the bed as I lie beside him.
He rolls onto his side, eyes wide and that cheeky fucking grin on his lips.
“Fucking amazing, how long until we can go again?”
Chapter twenty-three
Duckie
We filled just undera third of Fenway’s seats, making it the biggest crowd we’ve played for on this tour. But seeing Carter cheering for me, just like he used to do when I played in college, is what made it really special for me. A few of the Major League players stopped by, sending the audience wild when they joined in on theMacarenadance on field. They tossed a few pitches and hit a few balls, and then hung around until the end to take pictures with the teams and spectators. Carter was front and centre of that line. He’s been a fan his whole life.
The next city stops along the tour fly by. What started as me filling in for Nate in dances moved to Coach Miles asking me if I wanted to fill in for the rest of the tour. They have enough players to cover the positions, so I’m sure it has more to do with my willingness to do the dangerous shit he can’t ask his actual players to do. I surprised myself though with how much of the game my muscles remember from college. My arm isn’t anywhere as fast as it was back then, but it can still throw pretty perfectly, and I’m just as quick on my feet, so they keep meon left field. I’ve been smashing it with the online views of my articles and social media blasts, too. Being immersed in the team has given me a view no other writer has, and it’s amazing. For once, everything in my life is going great. Thankfully, they’ve kept the room assignments the same in each stop so far, too, and Ian and I have been able to hook up most nights. There have been a few where exhaustion overcomes me, and I can’t do anything but sleep, and he’s been cool with that. It’s not like any relationship I’ve ever had. Girlfriends I’ve had in the past would have started a whole thing about it meaning something else other than me being fucking tired. Not Ian.
He and the other writers have even helped hide some ducks at each stop. It’s sort of become a collective thing and word has spread. Fans have even started tagging the teams in posts online celebrating aDuckiefind.
Our rivalry is still going strong online, too.While some of the writers are ducking around, I’m out here busting my Banana Balls.I wrote on my last piece. Ian commented with a photo of a cheeky rubber duck wearing shades and a link to his piece that celebrated the audience and highlighted the hunt for ducks and how big of a hit it has become with fans.
We arrive in Colorado half a day early, so it’s immediately to bed so that we can fully enjoy a day of exploring before training and choreography rehearsals. I spent the bus trip here from Minnesota getting my next article written so when Ian and I finally get into the room, we both strip and climb into one of the beds, and I fall asleep with him spooning my back. I always thought of myself as the big spoon, but nothing tops this.
“What do you want to do today?” Ian asks, handing me a coffee as I climb from the bed. The room is bright.
What time is it?I wonder. “How long have you been up?”
“For a while, you looked tired, so I wanted to let you sleep as long as you needed.”
I flip over my phone on the nightstand, it’s after eleven.
“It’s almost lunch.”
“Like I said, you looked like you needed the Zs. We still have plenty of time to see the city, or we could just stay in bed for the whole day.”
My dick likes the sound of that, but there were things I had planned to see while we were here.
“Have you ever been to Meow Wolf?” I ask, and he chuckles.
“Is that a real thing or did you just make it up?”
“It’s an immersive art installation. I’ve been to the Santa Fe one and Las Vegas, but some of the guys on the team were telling me that the one here is amazing. A few of the players are going and asked if I wanted to come, too.”
“Oh, cool, no worries.”
His smile wavers a little.
“I want you to come with me.”
“I want you to come now,” he says, his gaze moving to my groin.
“Shower?”
“Shower,” he repeats, and I drop my coffee on the table on my way past. Who needs caffeine when you have morning head?
***
After we both dress, I go downstairs first.
“So how are we getting to this thing?” Harrison asks as he waits with the others.
“I’ve booked a ride-share minibus,” Pat says, checking his watch. “Should be here any minute. Who else is coming?”
