Their Ball Boy (It's Complicated Book 1), page 21
His words slice at me. “That’s not fair…”
“Isn’t it? You’re a selfish fucker, Fernandez! I thought—” He bites his knuckles until dents appear on his skin. “Fuck! I thought after everything, we passed this!”
“Of course, we did,” I seethe, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides. “You know that, Dalton.”
“Do I?” he chuckles, but it’s filled with malice and dark humor. “You know what, I thought I did. I thought you changed, but you haven’t.”
“Okay, stop!” Bryson yells, shoving himself between us. He lowers his trembling voice as he hisses at us. “People are watching.”
I turn and see that we have the floor. I storm away from everybody, but Dalton and Bryson are at my heels. I just need…I need a fucking minute.
I barge into the equipment room, but I can’t stop them from following.
“What?” Dalton taunts. “You have nothing to say?”
“Dalton,” Bryson says, voice wavering as he locks the door. “Now is not the right time. You both just played a hard match. We should all just—”
“How could you say that?” I bark out, not being able to control myself.
“You let down the people that were counting on you!”
“Says the one who speaks from experience!”
Bryson gasps just as Dalton’s face falls.
“Say that again.”
Bryson scrambles in front of him. “Dalton, he didn’t mean it—”
“Say it the fuck again!” Dalton roars, sidestepping Bryson’s desperate attempt to keep us apart. He grabs me by the collar of my kit. “Fucking say it!”
“Enough!” Bryson screams. “Dalton! Let go of him!”
It takes him a second, but he shoves me away roughly until my body collides with a spare ball caddy. Bryson lets out a deep breath, hands moving in a placating manner as he clears his throat. “Look. That was—um—unpleasant. Very unpleasant. Like that one time, I accidentally got glue on my eyebrow. Not good. Let’s go back to Dalton’s. Right. Let’s go back to Dalton’s and we can talk this out.”
“That’s not happening,” Dalton snaps as he curls his lips in disgust. “Fuck you, Fernandez.”
“Yeah?” I taunt, shaking my head. “Fuck you too, Cross.”
Dalton storms out after that, leaving Bryson and me in his wake. I hate that he’s crying. I go to reach for him until my name gets called from outside of the room. Right. First Dalton and now Coach.
“What just happened?” Bryson asks himself, shaking his head as he looks at nothing in particular.
In my anger, I can’t find the right words to comfort him. I just walk right by him, ready to face my fate.
Because we all know exactly what just happened.
THIRTY-FIVE
BRYSON
“Do it.”
I look over at my desk where my laptop rests, Max’s full face on the screen, a look of intense determination in his eyes.
I bite my bottom lip as I fidget with the phone. “I don’t know…”
“Bryson. Do it.”
“Okay, okay,” I rush out. I hold my breath and squirm on my bed as I dial Juandi’s number. It barely rings once before he picks up.
“Querido,” Juandi’s slightly accented voice rings out. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”
“Yeah, me too,” I whisper. My eyes flick up to Max as he once again mouths ‘do it’. “Um, one second.”
I put Juandi on hold and, with trembling fingers, dial Dalton. I don’t even have to wait for a beat before he picks up.
“Love. Finally. I’ve been trying to call you for days.”
“Hey.” I almost break at the sheer pain in his voice. “Um, just hold on a minute.”
With all the courage and grit I can muster—and one last look at Max—I merge the calls.
“Um, Dalton…Juandi is on.”
They both hang up.
“Ugh!” I yell, frustrated and tempted to throw my phone at the wall. “I knew this wasn’t going to work!”
“It was worth a shot, bro.”
It’s been days of this. Ever since our last match, Dalton and Juandi have refused to speak to each other. The only time they do manage to get a few words out, they’re snide remarks and one-offs during training. They’ve been trying to reach out to me, but I don’t know what to do.
The loneliness is crippling, but I’m at a loss. I can’t choose between the two of them, I just can’t. I want them both. I want to still be wrapped in their arms in the morning. I want their kisses. I want the feeling of belonging to them.
How did it come to this? Before that stupid match, we were happy. I can’t believe that one lost goal could change all of that.
But it’s more than that, isn’t it? Dalton called Juandi selfish, and Juandi threw Dalton’s history with his sisters at his face. They said terrible things about each other when we had agreed to only see the best.
And the worst part is that I miss them. I miss them so fucking much. I didn’t realize how unaccustomed I’d become to sleeping alone. I wake up every morning basically dry-humping two pillows. Not being able to see them together—happy, kissing, teasing each other—breaks my heart.
“I don’t know what to do, Max,” I whisper, feeling tears start to gather in my eyes.
He throws me a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, bro. I hate that this is happening.”
My phone dings. Automatically, I go to our group chat which Juandi stupidly named ‘Beautiful Boners’ expecting there to be a text, but there’s none. I go to my messages and see that it’s Dalton.
Daddy
Can you do me a favor, love? I’m stuck with my agent and can’t pick Keira and Lilly up from school.
I send him a quick reply back, agreeing to it. Even though I’m completely at a loss for what to do right now, there’s no way I’m not helping him with his sisters. I stand up and head toward my desk. “I gotta go, Max.”
“Stay strong, dude,” he says, throwing me a peace sign. “Text me later.”
“Will do,” I say as I grab my keys and head out.
“The dads are fighting.”
I nearly slam my foot on the brakes, but the middle school pick-up lane is not where I plan on dying. I don’t turn to look at Keira until I’ve pulled into the line leading to the school. “E-Excuse me?”
“Come on, Bryson. I’m not an idiot,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You and Juandi haven’t been by in days, and Dalton is miserable.”
I shake my head. Damn teenagers. They see everything. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
She raises her brows skeptically. “Don’t I, though? What are they fighting about?”
I hold my tongue. Keira really shouldn’t have to think of this, but I know based on the expectant look on her face, that she’s not letting this go any time soon. “They just…they both said stuff they didn’t mean. Everyone does that. I once called my teacher my mom. I was a sophomore. Sometimes it’s like vomit. It’s gross.”
“I…” She blinks at me. “I honestly don’t know what to say to that.”
“Everything will be fine,” I tell her, smiling as I see Lilly skipping her way to us. I look at Keira wearily. “Does she know?”
“No,” Keira says, sighing in relief. “But she’ll catch on soon if you don’t do something about it.”
“Me?” I shout, laughing incredulously. “How can I fix this?”
“Don’t be daft, Bryson. You have those two wrapped around your finger. They’ll do anything for you.”
“But what do I—”
I quickly shut my mouth as Lilly enters the car and immediately starts on her day. I find Keira’s eyes every now and then on the drive back to Dalton’s. I have no idea what she thinks I’m capable of doing in this situation. I was there when it happened, and I was helpless. I tried to stop them when I saw the way it was headed, but it just kept going and going until it got us here.
When we reach Dalton’s townhouse, I park the car and get out as well. I only go inside, wanting to be sure they’re settled before heading back to my place, since I don’t know how long Dalton’s going to be until he gets home.
That is until I see him sitting on the couch.
He stands quickly, his big body awkward and unsure when he sees me. Lilly runs up to him and hugs him while Keira gives me a look.
“You know what you have to do, Bryson,” she whispers to me before turning to Lilly. “Lils, let’s get our homework done so we can watch the telly later.”
“Okay!” Lilly says, breaking apart from Dalton and stopping briefly to hug me. “Thanks for picking us up, Bryson.”
“No problem,” I mumble weakly, kind of returning her hug.
And now it’s just the two of us, and Dalton doesn’t waste a second.
“Love, it’s so good to see you,” he says, bringing me to his chest with an intensity that knocks the breath out of me. “Fuck, I’ve missed you. Why haven’t you been texting me back?”
I pull away and frown. “Why are you and Juandi still fighting? It’s been days.”
At the mention of our boyfriend, he stiffens. “I don’t want to talk to that tosser.”
“He’s not a tosser!” I argue sharply. “He made a mistake!”
Dalton takes a step back, shaking his head at me as his mouth parts in disbelief. “Are you…are you taking his side?”
“I’m not taking any sides!” I yell, wincing when I realize the girls might hear me. “There aren’t any sides to take. You’re both just being ridiculous.”
“Can we just talk about this later, love?” he asks, pinching the bridge of his nose like even the mention of Juandi is giving him a headache. “Let’s just catch up, yeah? Why don’t you stay for dinner and tomorrow morning—”
“No.”
I shock even myself with how commanding my voice comes out. But fuck! I’m tired of being meek little Bryson. I’m tired of being a coward. I’m tired of always being afraid I’ll say the wrong thing or make the wrong decision.
I know what I want, I know what I deserve, and I know this is the only way to get it.
“Until you two sort your shit out, neither of you get me,” I continue, standing as strong and firm as I can. “If you want me, Juandi’s part of the package. If he wants me, you’re part of the deal. This doesn’t work unless it’s the three of us.”
Dalton looks horror-struck. “That’s not fair. The things he said—”
“Can be forgiven,” I interject. “I’m going to get going now. Call me when I have both of my boyfriends back.”
I turn to leave but something stops me. Hand on the doorknob, I let a single tear fall. “You forgive the ones you care about. Don’t you dare lie to yourself and think that you don’t miss him too.”
I hope that my words sink in. Besides pulling a Parent Trap, there’s nothing else I can do. They’re the ones who have to figure it out.
Because whether they want to admit it or not, they belong to each other just as much as they belong to me.
THIRTY-SIX
DALTON
Bryson’s words ring through my head days later.
As I watch him talk to Enzo, a genuine smile on his face as his hands manically wave in the air, I’m hit with a pang of longing.
I miss him so much.
Juandi’s over by the other side of the pitch finishing up his training. The MLS Cup is in a few days, so Coach gave us a light routine today.
I’m picking up our cones, and I can’t stop thinking about what I want. I want Bryson—never stopped—but now I’m not sure about Juandi. I still want him. I want them both, but what if Juandi doesn’t want me?
I try to picture a relationship with just Bryson and me, scrolling through my memories, and taking Juandi out of the picture.
It doesn’t work. It feels…wrong.
I’ve been avoiding thinking about him but—fuck—I miss him. I miss how he can turn practically anything sexual. I miss the way he enjoyed taking care of all of us—my sisters included—through his food. I miss how secretly sweet he is, kind and patient when I need it.
I miss what we used to have, and I wonder if he misses me too.
I’ve been putting off this conversation for days because I don’t know what to say. He did fuck up. He is the reason we almost lost the match.
But does that justify everything I said?
We all head to the locker room as soon as we’re wrapped up. Bryson—like he has every other day—disappears before either of us can talk to him. Juandi goes into Coach’s office, and I linger. It has to be now. I have to swallow my pride and talk things through with him.
Not only for Bryson but also for myself.
I wait what feels like forever for Juandi to come out of the office. When he does, he looks pale and like he’s going to be sick.
I don’t think, I just act. I walk toward him and grab both of his arms, steadying him. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
The words are out of my mouth before I can help it. Juandi’s eyes flick up to mine. They’re wide with thankfulness and filled with the golden-flecked warmth that I’ve gotten so accustomed to but then it goes away.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Cross,” he says, pushing past me. “I’ve been managing just fine without you.”
It stings, and I almost tell him he can fucking deal with it on his own, but I don’t.
I can be angry with him and still want him. I can be angry with him and still crave being in his arms. I can be all of this as long as he talks to me.
I make sure no one’s around and press him against the lockers. I’m not sure if Coach is still here, but I don’t care. This has to happen now, or it won’t happen ever.
“Fight me,” I say, iron grip on his training shirt. “Fight me, baby.”
His eyes widen. “What the hell? No. Get off me.”
I don’t budge. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m royally pissed at you, but I still miss you. I know you miss me too.”
“I don’t,” he claims, but I can spot the lie right away.
“Hurt me all you want. Throw whatever you can my way, just do it with me,” I beg, moving my hands to his shoulders, massaging the tension there. “I’d rather have the cruelest parts than nothing at all.”
“You want to talk about cruel?” he snaps, punching my chest. “All that shit you said to me about not caring about anybody else? I can’t believe you would even think that, especially after everything we’ve been through.”
“You messed up,” I state, not backing down from that. “But my reaction wasn’t warranted. The things I said…I shouldn’t have, Juandi. I’m sorry. But I have to know, why’d you do it?”
He gives up. His anger is replaced by something entirely vulnerable. He almost crumbles in my arms, leaning into me instinctually. “My papa…you know all about him. He called the night before, and I just thought if I showed him how great I could be—” He cuts himself off. “So stupid.”
“No, tell me,” I insist, rubbing his back.
“I just thought we’d be able to drop soccer for one fucking second.” He chuckles humorlessly. “I told him about us.”
My eyes widen at his admission. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, and his response? Nothing. He acted as if he didn’t hear me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, kissing his temple. Not at all concerned because I’m now pretty sure we’re the only ones here. “Baby, you’re amazing. Not just on the field but in real life. If he can’t see that, he doesn’t deserve those parts of you.”
“I shouldn’t have said what I did about your sisters,” he whispers after a silent minute. “I didn’t mean it. I was just so angry—”
“But you had a point,” I admit through a gulp. “I absolutely let them down. I can’t take that back, and I have to live with that fact.”
I’m still ashamed of it all. Every time I look at my sisters, I’m reminded of what a failure I am.
A warm hand cups my cheek, angling my face up. Juandi rubs his thumb against my bottom lip. “We’ve both made mistakes, but the part that matters is that we’re willing to fix them together.”
“Are we okay now?” I ask, my voice cracking at the end. “I need you, Juandi. You and Bryson.”
“Yeah,” he whispers, eyes growing glassy as he drops his forehead against mine. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
With those final words, I don’t hesitate to slant my lips against his. Bloody hell, it feels so fucking good. It feels like coming home after years spent wandering the desert. A fresh sip of water after a lifetime of thirst.
Not just because it’s him but because of what our reconciliation means.
I have them both back.
“I want you,” he mumbles against my mouth, dragging my jersey up until he reveals my chest. “I can’t wait.”
“Makeup sex?” I question with a throaty chuckle. “Here?”
“Don’t lie and say you’ve never pictured it,” he says through a smirk, skating his hands down my chest until he palms my cock. “You’re so big, mi vida. I want to feel you stretching me open.”
I lose all sense of reason. Spinning him around, I slam him against the locker and yank down his shorts, exposing that gloriously muscular ass. “I’m going to eat this arse first, baby. It’s been ages since I’ve had a taste.”
Going into this whole experience, I’d never imagined that rimming would be my absolute favorite thing to do. Out of everything, eating Bryson and Juandi’s arse turns me on the most.
I fall to my knees and shove my face in between his cheeks, humming as I skate my hands up and down his thighs. Spreading him open, I admire that puckered hole. So fucking perfect, especially now that I know what it feels like to be buried inside him.
I don’t take my time, and I don’t go in gently. I latch my lips around my hole and suck, making him writhe and push back against my face. While I love giving up control to Juandi—being his slut—I also love the fact that when I’m on my knees here, I run the show.
“Yes,” Juandi groans, his thighs shaking with the intensity of my assault. “Fuck your tongue into me.”
