Rules, Schmules! (Fast Break Book 1), page 14
“Isn’t that meant to be kissing it better?”
“That’ll work too.” He chuckles, and I lean up on my elbow to peer down at him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
I twist my mouth as I try to gather the right words. “It just seems all a bit surreal, you know. And a bit fast. And don’t get me started on your housemates.”
“They’re full-on.” His voice is a little guarded. “But I promise they mean well.”
I’m nodding before he’s finished talking. “I get that, but whatever this is, you and me, I can’t have a third, fourth, fifth or hell, sixth wheel.”
“I get that, and they won’t be. It’s just Tyron can be intense.”
“You think?” I snort. “He’s also slightly insane.”
Kieran’s smile is soft. “I think me flipping the way I have, going off MO has really thrown him for a loop. I know we’re a buncha jocks, but believe it or not, the guys rely on me.”
“I understand that.” Not only have I witnessed that in games, but based on the dynamics I saw downstairs, it was super obvious. “I feel like we need to talk about your ‘rules,’ as I’m not quite sure where I stand here.”
Talking about this stuff is mortifying. I wish I could shut up, just spend all our time fucking him into the mattress, but that’s not me. “I’ve never been in a relationship before,” I admit, cheeks burning. “And I don’t need a label, or shit, maybe I do, I don’t know, but I’m confused about what you expect here, what you see happening between us.”
The words are out there, and while I’m a jittery mess inside, as offering my truth is a hell of a thing, I’m impressed my voice doesn’t shake once.
Making myself vulnerable is hard. I’ve been shit on so many times, I can’t help but be wary.
“I’ve obviously never dated before,” he starts. The pink in his cheeks makes me feel better. God, I feel like a goofball. I keep that observation to myself and pay attention. “I can’t imagine coming out to the League, should I get drafted.” He winces. “I just wanna play and be recognized, and fuck, what if I ended up in Florida or some shit. Can you imagine?”
My shudder is real. When just the word “gay” is deemed practically a felony, I can’t imagine the struggle it would be living there and forever looking over your shoulder. I need to be around bigots as much as I need a hot needle in my dick.
Sorry, not sorry… I winced too.
Remaining quiet, I nod, hoping he’ll continue.
“I know I like you and enjoy spending time with you. I also know it’s asking a lot to keep our hooking up…” He raises his brows and waits a beat, searching for a reaction. When my lips curl high, he exhales. “…on the down-low. It means no holding hands or PDA. But it doesn’t mean we can’t hang out outside of here. Once the season’s over, I won’t be as busy. Is that going to be okay?”
Ignoring the voice in my head telling me that it so is not okay, I listen to my heart and the fizz in my stomach instead. “I can make that work.” His smile lights up his eyes. “And our hooking up is exclusive, right?” Since we’re having this talk, I may as well go all in.
“Yeah. I wasn’t lying downstairs when I said I don’t share. Obviously I’ve never been in a position to share, but you know, I don’t want to share you.”
That Kieran gets a little tongue-tied and wordy when he’s caught up relaxes my shoulders and forces away the tendrils of worry trying to take root. “I don’t want to share you either.” I punctuate my sentence with a kiss before pulling away. “I do want to share a pizza, though. I’m starving.”
He chuckles and sits up, the sheet pooling at his waist. This man is a living, breathing fantasy come to life. A happy sigh whooshes from me, and I lean in as he opens the app for the pizza place.
A night of pizza and sex sounds pretty spectacular, and I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
CHAPTER 14
RULE 6: DON’T LIVE ON TAKEOUT
KIERAN
“Do you think I eat too much pizza?”
The question’s enough for Dean to stop chewing his cereal. “What?”
“Pizza. Do I eat it too much?”
This look he’s giving me isn’t unusual, not when Tyron is speaking. All I can do is shrug at Dean, letting him know I have no idea why Tyron is talking about pizza.
When it’s clear I’m not going to respond, Dean shoots me the stink eye before saying, “I suppose ‘too much’ is relative, right? As long as you’re eating healthily the majority of the time and your calorie intake is right for your training—” He cuts off and looks at me, his brows furrowing. “That’s a thing, right, food and training?”
“Sure is.”
He seems happy with the confirmation and turns back to Tyron. “So I suppose you need to ask yourself if you’re eating right and if pizza is a treat rather than a staple.” He waits expectantly now he’s been drawn into Tyron’s randomness. Meanwhile, I don’t get involved. It’s only been a couple of weeks of Dean hanging out frequently, so he’s not yet used to this side of Tyron. He’ll soon learn, though.
Tyron seems to think about that as he’s eating his egg-white omelet. Without answering, he shrugs and shovels another forkful in his mouth.
And that’s it.
Seeing Dean about to say something to Tyron, I nudge him and shake my head when I have his attention. “It’s better not asking. He does random shit like this all the time.”
“It’s weird.”
“Yeah. That’s Ty.”
It’s obvious Tyron can hear us, but his head is all but stuck in his phone, and he’s tapping away on the keyboard. I expect that’s the only reason he’s not flipping me off.
“What time’s training?” Somehow I keep a straight face. I value my balls too much to laugh.
“Urgh. At two.”
“It’s going okay though, right?” While the thought of him in the bear costume tickles me, I still can’t believe he said yes and is going through with it. Nor that Tyron made it happen. Knowing Dean’s going to be around at every game, though, makes me happy in a way that surprises me.
“Yeah. I’m having some begrudging fun. I would not want to be dressed up in the thing in summer, though.” The look of distaste on his face is comical. “Even my eyelashes sweat. It’s not pretty.”
I chuckle. “Not wearing your eye shit must suck.” My mouth twitches at his reaction, which is exactly as I predicted. I should feel bad for getting a rise out of him, but since we’ve been spending time with each other, and the both of us are usually going about life dazed and happily fucked, he’s been super mellow.
I love that we’re getting on so well. But the fire he gets in his eyes whenever he’s indignant makes me hard.
“Did you just call my forty-five-dollar mascara eye shit?”
“Forty-five dollars?”
Narrow eyes shooting lasers are especially sexy. I just hope he never realizes just how much I think that.
“You saying these eyes aren’t worth good-quality mascara?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. You know I think you look especially hot when you’re wearing it.”
His narrow gaze softens a little.
“Is this really the sort of shit you guys spend time talking about?” Tyron puts his phone down and stares at me as though he has no idea who I am.
Rather than answer, I smirk at him. “There are other less suitable topics of conversation we could be having over breakfast if you prefer?”
He stands and pockets his phone. “That’ll be a hard no. Come on, get your ass in gear.” Tyron dumps his bowl and mug in the dishwasher and leaves the room.
“You about ready?”
Dean nods. “Yeah. You still okay to meet for lunch?”
“Definitely, especially if you’re still planning on heading home tonight and abandoning me.”
He rolls his eyes, but I don’t miss the hint of a smile he’s trying to hide. “Zeke has a game tonight, and I don’t want to miss it. Plus, my mom is pummeling me with questions about where I’ve been hiding.”
“I know.” I trail my fingers over his forearm. “But in less than a week it’s the holidays, so I’m heading home.”
Dean knows this, but it doesn’t hurt to remind him. While I’m only at home for seven days due to games, it still feels like a long time without Dean. This on-again, off-again thing we’ve had going for almost three months finally seems to have settled. I don’t want to rock the boat, and in all honesty, I’m enjoying spending time with the man. Like… a lot.
“You’ll be fine.”
I grunt, not so sure.
He stands up and chivvies me along. We both have a nine o’clock class. I’ve then got a meeting with Coach, followed by another class. I need to get in some study time too. But lunch with Dean is going to be the highlight of my day. Especially as we have a late practice, which is why I can’t go and watch his brother’s game.
I indulge in a lingering kiss before we leave. It would be easy to get frustrated by the number of times I have to stop myself reaching out to him when we’re in public, but since he’s being so incredible at doing as I’ve asked, I don’t feel like I have a right to complain. At least not to him.
Just putting it out there. I fucking hate it, and if this thing between us grows, I know I’ve got some hard decisions to look forward to in my future.
We head out to college, Tyron and Sammy joining us. As we get closer to campus, more and more people say hello, several shooting curious looks Dean’s way. Nothing about Dean blends in, not when he’s with the three of us. Dean, though, doesn’t even blink. He’s taking everything in stride, usually rocking a fun tee or hoodie and appearing completely unaffected.
When we reach the south campus, I let them know this is my stop. The guys nod and tell me they’ll catch up with me later while I stand a respectable distance away from Dean.
“You know, eye fucking me in public is going to get old fast.”
Dean’s words are so unexpected a loud, harsh laugh bursts out of me. “Is that right?” I manage, aware my laughter has caused heads to turn in our direction.
“It sure is, especially when it makes me hard and want to climb you like a tree.”
Wide-eyed, the visual slams into me, and from Dean’s snicker, he knows it.
“Catch you later,” he says before I’m able to respond, and like the pitiful man I am, I watch him go.
That man of mine knows how to drive me to distraction. And before you make a comment, please don’t. Let’s just skip over my word choices and pretend it never happened.
With a sigh, I head to class, focusing hard on gross things like drinking coffee to will my half-hard dick to behave. It works, thankfully, and I’m able to survive my morning, with only a few risqué thoughts about Dean Whittaker.
Coach must have a date tonight. It’s the only explanation for cutting practice short. It’s that rare that the whole team stands still for at least thirty seconds, waiting for him to call bullshit and make us do a hundred burpees.
It’s not until he yells at us to get out of there before he changes his mind that we make a run for it.
Leaving early is how my housemates and I manage to head out to watch Zeke’s game. I’m not even surprised that my friends are tagging along. At the moment, Dean is pretty much a god, according to them all.
“It looks busy,” Bentley comments, looking around the parking lot we struggled to find a space in. “What if they’ve filled the seats?”
Tyron glances over at him. “I think they’ll let us in even if that’s the case.”
He’s not saying that to be a jerk, and there’s no arrogance in his tone. The thing is, he’s absolutely right, especially with all of the local college feeder towns. They’ll recognize us, so there won’t be an issue.
I haven’t texted Dean to let him know we’re coming. It feels fun to show up unexpectedly. There’s a bubble of anticipation in my gut knowing he’s going to be surprised. Even knowing I can’t greet him with a kiss doesn’t bring me down. If I earn one of his smiles that I know he reserves just for me, it’ll be worth it.
There’s no issues getting in. Plenty of double takes, but no one stops us. The game’s not due to start for another ten minutes. It means the cheerleaders are on the court, the players with their coaches, some running drills, and most spectators already have their asses in their seats.
Not that it’s difficult to peer over heads when you’re my height, but it makes searching Dean out easier.
“He’s over there.”
I whip my head in Leon’s direction and follow where he’s pointing. Dean’s close to the court, sitting next to his mom, and while I can only see his side profile, it’s obvious he loves the thrill of the game. And that’s even before the game’s started.
“What do you want to do? Find a seat here or go to him?” Leon asks.
It’s like my friends don’t know me at all. Okay, admittedly, they’ve never seen this needy-as-fuck side to me, but still, isn’t the answer obvious?
Apparently my expression is answer enough as Leon chuckles, saying, “Lead the way, Captain. I’m sure people will be clambering to give up their seats for us.” While he rolls his eyes, I really hope he’s not wrong. I’m not that much of an asshole that I’d ask someone to move, but if someone offered, damn straight I’ll take their seats if it means I get to press my thigh against Dean’s.
Jesus H Christ, do I know how to live dangerously or what?
“They have nachos,” Tyron says as I start down the steps. “Save me a seat.” No one has a chance to respond before he’s gone.
As we head toward the court, closer to Dean, there’s a noticeable change in the atmosphere. People are pointing and staring. There’s nudges and hushed whispers. Dean is so invested in a conversation he’s having with Tina though, he’s completely unaware.
It’s not until I’m at the end of the row and I see movement on the court that I pull my attention away from Dean. It’s Zeke, and from the giant grin he’s shooting my way, the kid’s pleased to see me. He heads on over, and rather than leave him hanging, I go down the final few steps to greet him.
“Hey, Zeke.” I reach out and shake his hand.
Wide-eyed, he blinks after releasing my grip. “You’re here.”
“Yeah, thought I should come and see these mad skills your brother’s been telling me about.”
When his grin stretches even wider and a light blush colors his cheeks, he looks to his left… toward Dean.
Finally.
I follow his gaze and capture Dean’s. His eyes are even wider than his brother’s, but it’s the smile I’m more focused on. It’s warm and gentle and so fucking happy, and there’s no doubt causing a stir is worth it for that reaction alone.
Turning back to Zeke, I say, “What are these guys like?” I indicate toward the opposing team.
He shrugs. “Good, but we can hold our own.”
I nod. “You be sure to do that. Play hard.”
“I will.” He turns away to the call of his coach. “I gotta go.”
I wave him off before refocusing on Dean. He’s standing and making his way out of the aisle, saying something to Leon, who’s laughing. A second later, Bentley is signing a few caps, and a group of kids who were in the aisle grin and vacate the row for us.
And then I’m beside Dean. Peering up at me, his gaze bright, he smiles. “This is a surprise.”
“I thought it was about time I watched Zeke work his magic.”
His gaze is on my mouth, and his hand twitches. This is so hard. Easing out a breath, I indicate toward his mom. Her head’s cocked, and I’m pretty sure any questions she’s had about Dean being MIA have been answered with the way she’s studying us.
“Game’s about to start,” I say.
“Shit, okay, let’s sit down.”
I follow him in, Leon at my side, and we all settle in our seats. When Tyron arrives with his hands full of nachos and who knows what else, I grin, as I have no choice but to scoot closer to Dean.
When our thighs touch, we both release a breath, and I chuckle low. From the corner of my eye, I catch his smirk but don’t dare fully look at him.
My attention turns to the game, though I’m absolutely aware of Dean’s every breath and every movement. It’s when he claps, cheers, and hollers that I’m completely fixated on him. It’s not until Leon knocks me and I tear my gaze away, receiving a pointed stare, that I focus on the court again, trying to ignore my heated cheeks.
With renewed focus, I pay attention to Zeke.
The kid has some talent. The game is faster than I remembered it being when I was in high school. That sounds crazy since high school was only three years ago, but it’s a fun game to watch. There’re probably four players who have a spark to them, ones I’m sure college recruiters are already keeping an eye on.
At halftime, we’re approached by multiple fans. The guys and I happily sign some autographs while Dean looks on, bemused. I know this is a side of me playing ball that he struggles with.
When I finally sit down again a couple of minutes before the second half begins, Tina leans forward. “Good of you to come and watch Zeke.”
I smile. “Coach was in a good mood and cut practice short, so what better way to spend our Friday night?”
She quirks her brow at that, and I can only imagine what she’s thinking. A bunch of college guys hanging out at a high school game on a Friday night admittedly isn’t the norm, but she doesn’t call bullshit.
“What are you guys doing after?”
Instinctively, I look at Dean, looking for some kind of answer. When his gaze snaps to mine, his brows are high, and I figure my reaction is so fucking obvious, at least to his mom.
“Uhm…”
I have no idea what to say, how to answer. It’s not like I can come out and say, “Well, I was hoping to kidnap your son for a sexy-time sleepover.”
Tina’s lips twitch. “Well, we’re going to grab pizza if you want to—”
“Did someone say pizza?”
I wince and snort when Tyron enters the conversation. The guy has a built-in radar that’s on pizza setting.
