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He’s right. He’s fucking right, and he knows I know it. How can I argue with that? I don’t have a single leg to stand on. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that, and I should have.”
He looks pained, and gives a single small shake of his head. “It’s not just about me. Anything I do reflects on SCU, and I won’t have my team going into the season with that sort of mess hanging over them.”
“That’s fair. But…there’s other options, right?” I gentle my hand where it’s still on his leg. I hadn’t realized I was gripping him so hard. “Nobody knows about us now, right? Nobody beyond my friends. We’ll just keep on the way we’ve been going—date in secret.”
“That doesn’t work.”
“Yes, it does. It can.” I want to tell him about Corwin and Nigel so badly I have to bite my tongue to fight the words back.
“And what would the reason be, for you to be here? I can’t drive, Anthony, it’s not as if I could come to you. You’d be coming to campus, parking in front of my house, and leaving the following morning. And you expect not to be seen, on a campus full of college kids who know your face from TV? That’s wishful thinking to the point of delusion.”
“You’re only pointing out things that can go wrong. What’s the solution?”
“You know the solution,” he says, softly. “The understanding from the start was that this had an expiration.”
“That’s not an option,” I say, harshly. Nico adjusts his leg and my hand slides to the couch. “Pick something else.”
Nico bends forward, placing his elbows on his knees and reaching up to rub his eyes. He’s not enjoying this any more than I am, judging by the slump in his shoulders and the curve of his back. Scrambling, I try to think of a counterargument; something—anything—to convince him to give us a real shot. I stare hard at what I can see of his face, and hope that this won’t be the last time I see him.
“I’m sorry,” he says, face still lowered into his hands. His voice sounds rough, like he’s been screaming for hours. “I really am sorry. This isn’t what I want.”
And yet, you’re going to end things anyway. Reaching out, I tentatively wrap my fingers around his wrist and tug his hand away from his face. He sits up and looks at me properly, face pale and exquisite green eyes on mine. He looks wretched, and beautiful, and I really wish I’d gotten to kiss him at least once. Sliding my hand up until I can link our fingers, I bring the back of his hand to my mouth and kiss that instead.
“I hear you. I don’t like it, but I get it.” His hand tightens on mine. “But maybe don’t discard me too quickly, yeah? Call me when you need a ride to the grocery store, or when SCU has a home game that aligns with my time off. Just…justcallme, okay?”
“I will.” Nico is squeezing the shit out of my hand, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go. I’m afraidhe’lldisappear if he lets go. We sit in silence, nothing more to say except goodbye and neither of us willing to say it first. Minutes pass before his grip loosens; my throat is so tight I can hardly breathe. “You’ll be here tomorrow? For practice?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat, and slide my hand from his. It’s time for me to leave, before I do something embarrassing like cry. “I should probably head out, though.”
“Probably.” He sounds uncertain, but his voice doesn’t waver when he continues. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I feel terrible on the drive home, like I really am going to be sick. I’ve never had a real break-up, contentious or otherwise, and I can’t say I’ve enjoyed the experience thus far.Only hooking up, my ass. What a fucking mess.Checking the time, I wonder if Troy and Sam are still at Corwin’s. I want to go back, play that stupid game, and ask what the hell I’m supposed to do now. Trying to calm down with some deep breathing, I dialCorwin’s number and place him on Bluetooth. He picks up on the second ring, voice filling the car and doing more to calm me down than any breathing exercise ever could.
“Hey, Lawson. How’s Nico?”
“Hi, Cor. Not great. It was a tough day for him, unfortunately.” There’s a long pause. I glance at my phone, making sure the call didn’t disconnect.
“Sounds like it might have been tough for you, as well,” he says, gently.
“Yeah.”
“Want to come over?”
The offer comes so swiftly it’s clear he didn’t even have to think about it. Whatever him and Nigel had planned for the evening taking the backseat because he can tell I’m miserable. Which is an excellent reason not to go over and infect them with my terrible mood.
“No. I just wanted to pick your brain, if you’re not too busy to chat for a minute.”
“Of course not. Tell me what happened.”
I do. Giving him a near word-for-word rundown of our conversation, I talk until my throat becomes sore. Corwin listens silently, the only thing alerting me to his continued presence is his soft exhalations. He doesn’t interrupt once.
“And then I left,” I finish, lamely, and wish I had a bottle of water. Or a bottle of whiskey, more like.
“That’s hard, I’m sorry. You’re going to finish the week, I’m assuming?”
“Of course. Do you…do you think there’s anything else I could have said? I feel like I didn’t try very hard to convince him. He had his mind made up months ago, when we first got together, and his stance never changed.”
He sighs. “What would you prefer, bald honesty or just support?”
