Long Pass Chronicles 01 - Outing the Quarterback (9 page)

Noah walked back with two glasses. They didn’t match. He handed one to Will and sat on the other part of the sectional. “So are you moving out soon?”

“Probably not until I finish school.”

“That’s a long time. You gonna be able to carry off the fiction?”

That was the question, but Noah didn’t even know how much. “I made it this far.”

“I’ll bet it gets harder all the time.”

Man, he had no idea. “What are your plans?”

Noah drank some tea. “Graduate school in art. I want to be able to teach as well as paint.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I’d love to go to Chicago, but I think UCLA will be good.”

“How will you do it?” He held his breath.

“Scholarships, I hope.”

“Milton?” He was turning blue.

“Sure. It’s the best. And I ought to be a contender. God knows, I can prove hardship.” He laughed.

“But it doesn’t depend on hardship.” Will swallowed hard.

“Sure. But who wouldn’t take it into consideration?” He frowned. “Besides, I hope I paint well enough.”

“Yeah. You’re a great painter. Like I said.” Will downed the cold, bitter tea. Shit, he didn’t want to compete with this kid. His evil voice asked the obvious question.
Why, because you think he’ll win?
“I should get going.”

“Sure.”

He felt weird. “I really like your place.”

“Thanks.”

He got up and took a few steps toward the door.

“Will.”

He didn’t turn around. Felt too strange. “Yeah.”

“You never answered my question.”

“What question?”

“Are you gay?”

Blood. Ice. “No. Why would you ask me that again?” He heard the couch cushion rustle, then footsteps behind him. Will turned around slowly, frowning. “What’s with you? Why would you think I’m gay?”

Noah stopped directly in front of him and looked up. Not far up. The guy was only a few inches shorter. Drowning in those eyes would be possible. “Because you look at me like you want to eat me.”

Will felt his mouth open. He should tell this guy to fuck off. Why didn’t any sound come out?

Noah reached out a hand, grabbed Will’s head, and pulled him forward, then captured his open mouth with his own lips. Not gentle. Hard and hot.

Fire flashed in Will’s brain and dove to his cock.
Fight, dammit. He’s blowing your cover.
He brought a hand up to Noah’s chest. He meant to push. Honest. But all he felt was heat pouring through the fabric of Noah’s T-shirt. Skin. He needed skin. His fingers bunched the cloth up higher and higher until his fingers felt silky flesh. Just one finger stretched out and caressed.
Oh shit.
He needed to quit this. With a deep breath, he pulled his head away from Noah’s mouth.

Noah clutched Will’s hair. He grabbed Will’s chin and held it as he plundered his mouth, tongue sweeping across Will’s lips and pressing inside with force.

No, this isn’t happening
.
Oh shit
. A shock of pain seared across Will’s scalp where Noah yanked his hair. His cock got harder and started to leak. Nobody ever tried to dominate Will. He was too big. Too strong. This fancy little boy could not be doing this. But he was, and it felt like some dream coming true.

Like they were on pulleys, Will’s hands surrounded that slim, hard body. He slanted his mouth, opened his lips wide, and sucked Noah’s tongue deep.

The knock on the door felt like it was on his skull.
No. Shit. No
.

Noah stilled his mouth.

No
!

“Hey, Noah, it’s Dwight. Are you there?”

This couldn’t be happening. None of it could be happening. Will released Noah’s arms and stepped back, shaking his head.

Noah looked angry. At who? He put a finger to his lips and shushed. The message was clear. Be quiet and Dwight would go away. Be quiet and we can keep doing what we’re doing. If Will just stood there, he could finally have sex. Maybe sex the way he’d been dreaming of for—years.

The tap on the door sounded like a last try. Masterson was giving up.

Oh shit, he couldn’t do this! He spoke loud. “Thanks for the tea, Noah. Glad I could give you a ride.” He grabbed the door and pulled it open.

Masterson had gone a few steps back down the walk. “Oh hi, Dwight. Sorry. Didn’t hear you. I was listening to music and Noah was in the bathroom. Great class today. See you next time.”
Look natural
.
Hide the erection
. He walked past Masterson and straight to the car, climbed in, and drove off before the guy even took a step toward Noah’s door. Noah didn’t come out.

Will’s heart hammered. He slowed at the stop sign, then sped through. What had he done? He’d just kissed Noah. No, been kissed by Noah. A little better. But still, Noah was an out and proud gay man who had no reason to protect Will’s secret. He’d probably think it was in Will’s best interest to out him.
Oh shit. Oh shit
. Noah was probably laughing with Masterson right now about the all-American boy who was a closet homo.

God, couldn’t breathe.
Pull over before you wreck the car
. Thank God he was on Glenneyre and could find a place to stop. He swung onto a side street, pulled in front of a two-story house, and turned off the car. His head dropped onto the steering wheel.

Noah and Masterson laughing. Very bad. But what if Noah and Masterson weren’t laughing? What if they were fucking? Had Will’s walking out just left the field open for Masterson to cement his claim to Noah?

Will’s perfect ability to visualize did him dirt. All he could see was a picture of the lean artist bent over with his cock in Noah’s ass, hammering away. Will’s fists clenched but so did his asshole. He wanted someone pushing into him. Noah. He wanted Noah. Like maybe he’d never wanted a guy in his life. A moan slipped out between his lips.

The year ahead of him, toeing the line, pretending to be all the things his father expected—it wasn’t three hundred days. It was eternity. An eternity of not having what he wanted.

Think, dammit
. He was quarterback of the SCU football team. That was a big responsibility. If he blew it, failed, caused a scandal, he’d never live it down. The story would follow him even if he became an artist. No, not if. When. And it would embarrass his father. Will might not like the old man’s values much, but his father wanted the best for him in his own way. He’d given Will a lot, and he didn’t deserve a kick in the teeth. But if Will kept up the charade, he’d never have Noah. Masterson would get him. Or someone else. Heat pressed behind his eyes. Shi-it!

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. Jamal. Will smiled, wiped at his eyes, and clicked the button. “Hey, man.”

“Hey, buddy. Just wanted to remind you about the press conference tonight.”

Shit!
“Thanks, man. I probably would have forgotten.”

“Yeah. You been a little distracted lately.” Jamal’s voice held that ever-present smile. He was a true friend, even if he didn’t really know Will. Maybe it was time that changed. He needed help. He needed a friend.

“Can I come over after the press conference? Talk to you?”

“Hell, yeah. That would be great.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you at the conference.”

“See ya.”

Will stared at the phone. Did he have the nerve? Crap, he felt so alone. Would Jamal hate him if he knew? He puffed his cheeks and blew. Not sure. He had until tonight to chicken out.

He wiped a hand at his nose. Tissue. He leaned over the seat to grab a box he kept in the back space. His hand hit a solid object. Wow. Noah’s backpack. He’d forgotten it. And he probably needed it really bad. Yeah. He needed Will to call him and offer to give it back to him—like over dinner. He smiled. It faded.

Hard to call somebody without a phone number.
Shit
.

N
OAH
CARRIED
the tray to his customers on the eight-top. Nice people from the Midwest somewhere. “Here’s the sole almondine for you.” He smiled at the heavyset lady in the flowered dress. “You’re going to love this, I promise.”

She rubbed her hands together. “I can’t wait. Thank you.”

Her husband got the steak, and the other couple both had opted for the lobster. Lobster wasn’t really a California specialty, but Noah hadn’t talked them out of it. “Here’s some drawn butter for the lobster and a bowl of rice to share. Is there anything else I can get you?”

The sweet lady dug into her sole and put it in her mouth. Her eyes closed. “Oh my.”

Noah grinned. “It’s one of my favorites.”

She sighed. “I see why.”

“Enjoy, you guys. Call if you need me.” He walked toward the back to get a check for another table.

Dwight had brought him to work. One more time, Dwight had wanted to fuck and Noah had begged off because he had to work. Would Noah have come to work if Will Smith had wanted to fuck? He knew the answer to that question. He’d have called in sick so fast the phone would have melted.

Noah dropped the check at the table, smiled at his customers, and went back to the bar to pick up drinks. So he wanted to have sex with Will. This was important information. He wasn’t just avoiding Dwight because he didn’t want to sleep with his teacher. There was more going on, and for some weird reason it had to do with the big blond.

What exactly had happened with Will Smith? Noah had kissed him. Had the guy kissed him back? Yeah, but he’d done a lot more than that. He’d resisted and, when push came to shove, he’d run away. Did that mean Will Smith was gay or not? Shit, he didn’t actually know.

Noah maneuvered around the customers sitting at the bar watching the TV and got to the pickup station. The bartender set out the drinks for Noah’s table. “Thanks, Penny.” He loaded the glasses on his tray and started back to the table. The voices stopped him.

One guy on TV was saying, “What do you think of SCU’s chances this year with Will Ashford at quarterback?”

Noah turned around and watched the screen. Will? He didn’t know a lot of people with that name but there must be plenty. The other sports idiot replied, “Hard to say. The guy’s got a great arm. One of the best. But I’m not sure he’s got the passion.”

“Yeah, he could have taken over last year, but he backed off and let Sturgeon lead.”

“Still, he’s got undeniable talent. We’ll see how he uses it.”

The lead host smiled at the camera. “Here’s a moment from the earlier press conference with the SCU players.”

The picture changed to a group of jocks sitting at a table, and there in the middle was jockoid number one—Will Smith. Or, apparently, Will Ashford.

Some reporter called out, “Hey, Will, what’s your secret weapon?”

The handsome face crinkled with dimples. “Jamal Jones.” He slapped the shoulder of the huge, handsome black guy next to him. The guy who’d been with him at the restaurant.

Another voice called out, “Will, have you got a girlfriend?”

His face froze for a fraction of a second. Then he smiled and shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

The reporters laughed. The picture switched back to the commentators. One said, “He’s a charmer. The women will all turn out for SCU football this season.”

Well, shit
. Noah shook his head and hurried to the table. The ice was melting. He distributed the drinks and walked back to the bar, but the commentators had moved on to some other idiocy.

Quarterback of the SCU football team. Noah knew nothing about sports, but even he knew that was like superstar material. The quarterback of the SCU football team was hiding out as a painter. And maybe, just maybe, he was also gay.

W
ILL
PARKED
the Ferrari in front of Jamal’s family’s house. Jamal had driven his dad’s truck to the press conference, and he pulled it into the driveway and got out. Will met him in the middle of the lawn, and they walked to the front door together. Jamal’s dad, Big John, sat in front of the TV, and Evangeline looked up from the book she was reading while sitting curled in the corner of the couch. Apparently,
Pawn Stars
at a good volume didn’t interfere with her concentration.

Will raised a hand. “Hi, Big John.”

“Hey, Will. Thanks for giving credit to my boy.”

“Nothing but the truth, sir.”

Evangeline blew a razzberry. “Oh, I don’t know. Secret weapon? Maybe for how to sniff the flowers like Ferdinand the Bull.” She laughed. Nobody loved Jamal more than Evangeline, and only she got to give him a hard time.

Jamal pointed toward the kitchen. “Want something to eat?”

“No. They fed us pretty well after the conference.”

“I’ll just get some chips and soda. Go on up to my room and we can hang out.”

Will smiled but butterflies had checked back into his stomach. He took the stairs two at a time and walked down the narrow hall to Jamal’s room. Like the whole house, the room was small and lived-in. It would have fit in one corner of Will’s suite. But he felt, in a lot of ways, more comfortable here. He pushed aside a pair of jeans and two shirts, then flopped into the ratty easy chair Jamal kept in a corner by the window.