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He watches me closely, testing me I think, so I hold his gaze without wavering. “I believe you,” he finally says.
“I get it now,” I tell him.
“Get what?” He blinks a half dozen times in rapid succession.
“Why you don’t like football. And I know you pay attention at least a little bit since I talk about it all the time, which I appreciate, but I’ll try not to do that.”
“It’s okay. I actually used to like it, I just sort of…protested it after that whole incident. You don’t need to stop talking about it.” The absence of a scowl makes me think he really means that.
“So,” I exhale heavily, racking my brain for a way to lighten the mood. “Want tickets to the next game?”
Liam chuckles like that’s slightly funny, although I didn’t mean it to be. When I don’t laugh, he sobers. “You’re serious.”
“Too soon?”
He scratches the back of his head like he’s mulling that over, then lets his hand fall into his lap in a sort of ‘fuck it’ gesture. “Maybe we can call that my favor. I’ll come see a game.”
I don’t know if he’s forgetting what I originally asked for, or if he’s just pretending that he didn’t give it to me after all. Either way, I let him have this out, since I need one myself.
What just happened… Not the physical part but the talking part… I think it makes us more than just casual friends. It’s definitely one of the deepest conversations I’ve ever had, maybe even deeper than any talk I had with Xavier. I feel so, so guilty about that, but I also feel excited and relieved to have connected with someone. To have someone confide in me.
It’s been a long time since that’s happened. Once he started dating Piper, Xavier stopped coming to me. I think part of that was because he started talking to her, but I’m almost certain part of it was him thinking my asexuality would mean I couldn’t understand, at least when it came to relationships. And maybe I wouldn’t have been able to, but he didn’t try, and eventually he didn’t really share anything at all.
What Liam just did… I didn’t realize how much I missed having someone trust me enough to share something so important. And it's not something I take lightly. I also won’t make a big deal out of it, since I’m pretty sure he’d hate that.
“Coming to my game is a great favor, Liam. I’ll take it.”
Chapter ten
Liam
My breath fogs in the air as I cup my gloved hands together, blowing into the space between them. Too bad the warmth it gives lasts all of two seconds.
I need to remember this moment, and the fear that I might very well freeze my family jewels to the bleachers, and that’s not even remotely worth the five minutes of relief his hand gives me…
Right? I tilt my head, silently debating on whether I truly believe that or not. Shaking it off, I clear my throat. Of course it isn’t worth this… Next time, I’ll opt to watch it from our room, where I’ve got my beanbag chair, a mini fridge full of snacks, and my teeth won’t chatter hard enough to crack my skull. For now, though, I’ll keep huffing into my hands like I’m going to invent fire, and pretend I’m as excited to be here as the shirtless guys a few rows over who are either too dumb or too drunk to realize they’re flirting with hypothermia.
Why did I agree to this, after I’d already given Cruz what he wanted in return?
Speaking of, I’m still a little shell-shocked I confessed to getting jumped. I’ve never told another soul about that, ever. Yet, I spilled my guts to Cruz.
Am I upset? No. Am I concerned? A little.
It wasn’t a secret or anything—the entire student body at my high school, and undoubtedly most of the staff knew. The guys who did it threatened a repeat at least once a month, but I’ve never voluntarily told anyone about what happened. Not even the doctors who set my arm. Or my parents.
I gave the doctors some bullshit about breaking it in a pickup game. A bad step, my arm shot out to break my fall and…crack. I’m not sure they believed me, especially considering the other scrapes and bruises I was sporting, but they couldn’t prove that it didn’t happen that way. And since I was eighteen, they didn’t have to call my parents to confirm my story. I would’ve told my parents the truth if they’d showed up to the hospital, if only so I could vent about it, despite knowing I’d never see any justice.
But they never came.
My dad was either working late or out of town, I don’t remember which, and my mom was undoubtedly already passed out cold. So, I gave the staff my insurance card, got my cast, and signed myself out. By the time my dad saw the cast three weeks had passed, and I just stuck with my pickup game story. At one point in time, they’d have cared what happened, but by my senior year they had checked out of the whole parenting obligation. I figured I’d rather have them ignore my fake story than the real one. I guess I reasoned that would hurt less.
A loud bang sounds to my right, and when I turn to find the source I see a wave of green jerseys running between two rows of cheerleaders wearing so much yellow it’s like they’re trying to subliminally convince you it’s a warm, sunny day. The sunny part may be accurate, but no amount of yellow could convince me the temperature is anything other than freezing.
At least the school limited that garish color to the text on the jerseys, otherwise the football team might look like Big Bird’s family tree. The green and white actually looks nice together, especially considering the white is on the lower half, which really accentuates the…muscles.
Stop it, Liam. Ogling butts is part of what got you into this mess in the first place, spilling memories you swore to bury.
Why I volunteered the truth to Cruz, I’m still not sure. I suspect I might be confusing his selfless hand jobs with actual feelings. Not that he isn’t capable of feelings, but when he’s touching me it’s hard to remember it’s probably more like a clinical exercise for him. Unfortunately, I’m so starved for affection, that I fear my brain is going to turn our next high-five into a marriage proposal. Now, if the man shows me any kind of human decency, I have to worry about my mouth joining the party. And not in the fun way. In the spill your deepest darkest secrets kind.
