I had a clear view of Maclain sitting across the way against the windows, so I lifted my phone and scrolled to his name to mess with him.
You’ve crashed on me twice already. So I’m two for two. I’m obviously good at wearing you out. Will you be able to stay awake this week?
I watched as he lifted his phone and stiffened briefly upon reading my text. Then he shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
I don’t know, you cocky mofo. Does this mean you’ll stop bothering me?
Oh, I see…so it’s me bothering you? If I remember correctly, you texted me last.
To ask about our seats on the plane.
You were obviously disappointed that we’re not sitting together.
His smile grew a bit wider as he typed.
Please, it’s enough having to room with you.
We made eye contact across the space, and I could see the wariness just under the surface. I certainly didn’t want any tension between us—outside the usual, that is.
I know you’re still afraid.
He frowned, and I was starting to regret ruining the mood, when he texted back: How are you not?
I definitely am. But I’m also curious and trying to figure shit out about myself. Besides, we won’t be around these guys much longer.
His eyebrows knitted together in what looked like frustration.
Still have to get through our schedule. What if they give us hell? Or rumors spread around campus? Plus, my stepdad wouldn’t take it well, and what if your parents don’t either?
All valid points. So maybe we just keep talking it through, like this. Check in with each other.
He offered a slight nod of agreement.
Besides, the stuff that went down last week? It’s hard to get out of my head.
I watched as he took a deep breath, then quickly typed a response.
Yeah, me too.
My chest tightened. Holy shit.
So you finally admit it!
Ass.
You do have a nice one.
Fucking hell. Stop it.
When he shifted in his seat and dipped his head, I chuckled a little, wanting to tease him some more. But I didn’t want to draw too much attention.
I waited as his fingers tapped his cell again.
Don’t make fun, but I’m scared about that part too.
Fucking Maclain. My fingers trembled a little as I typed: I’m scared too. I would never make fun. Not like I’m well versed in any of this stuff.
I wouldn’t tell him that I’d pulled up gay porn on my laptop a few days ago and had gotten an eyeful. Maclain might not be up for exploring anything more, but it had helped satisfy my curiosity, at least in part. I realized that fucking someone’s ass was something I was very interested in. However this played out—or not—it needed to be on Maclain’s terms, or else he’d freak.
As if he’d read my thoughts, his next text pretty much verified my suspicions.
I can’t guarantee I won’t be hot and cold or just pull back altogether.
That’s your normal personality, so…
Dickhead.
Aw, are you flirting with me?
You wish.
Maybe I do.
Like I said, dickhead with a capital D.
You finally have a nickname for me. I like it.
What if I like Nickie better?
Eye contact again. Christ, he made my stomach all wobbly.
Yep, definitely flirting.
His forehead wrinkled in this adorable way as he typed a reply.
I obviously don’t know what I’m doing, so…
Doesn’t matter. This isn’t a competition.
Unless we make it one.
I barked out a laugh, then composed myself, pretending I was watching a video on my phone. I refused to look at him, though, because I would’ve given myself away.
So, does this mean you admit it?
Admit what?
I briefly held my breath, then typed my response. I had to. It’d been bugging me for months.
The shower incident.
He’d gone silent, and my pulse was drumming in my ears, but when I lifted my head to look at him, he didn’t turn away. He bit his lip and stared for a long moment. Then nodded.
Holy fuck, it was like a valve had been unsealed as my chest flooded with relief. Why his admission mattered so much was not something I could easily explain. Except it was further proof that I wasn’t in this alone.
Matter settled for now, I checked social media, then talked to a couple of teammates until boarding began. I looked out the window at the fluffy clouds most of the flight, lost in my thoughts, but Fischer didn’t seem to mind.
Because of the time difference, it was early when we arrived at the hotel. We had games the next three days, but today we were on our own. Well, sort of. After putting our bags away in our rooms, we went down to the lobby to meet the coaches. We’d be exploring the city in a touristy way, which was fine by me because San Diego was awesome, at least what I’d seen on the shuttle ride from the airport. And because Coach Adams had friends in town, he knew all the places to go.
After eating an awesome lunch in Little Italy, we walked to a gelato place, then headed to an afternoon Padres game at one of the coolest stadiums I’d ever been in.
We took up two rows of seats and filled up on hot dogs and soda—fountain soda that Maclain seemed grateful I pointed out—and watched a close game that was tied in the sixth and that the Padres pulled out in the end. When I felt someone pelt my head with popcorn, I had a feeling I knew who it was, though Kellan was known for throwing stuff, too, if usually at Donovan. When I turned my head to look behind me, both Kellan and Maclain looked sheepish, so they could’ve ganged up on me for all I knew. But when Maclain rewarded me with a megawatt smile that warmed me to my core, I decided I was completely charmed by this mischievous-in-a-flirty-way side of him.
It didn’t last very long because as soon as he catalogued his surroundings and realized he’d tiptoed out of his tightly wound façade, his eyes were back on the mound, the smile already tucked away. Ah, well, it was fun while it lasted.
After the game, the team walked along the harbor before boarding a ferry. Coach Adams pointed out a place across the way called Coronado Island, as well as some cool military ships docked inland. It felt good to relax after such a full afternoon and the ocean air provided a warm breeze. Some of the guys discussed getting souvenirs at the harbor-front shops, while others would be heading back to the hotel to chill out and get some rest.
It ended up being only a small group of us who stayed behind, and we walked along the shops and enjoyed the scenery a bit longer. Donovan and Kellan were waiting on a bench when I came out of one of the stores, having purchased a couple of items, including a key chain for Gemma, who liked to collect them. A couple of minutes later, Maclain joined me after Sinclair, Devers, and Fischer decided to go to yet another shop on a souvenir hunt for their younger siblings.
Maclain hadn’t purchased anything, which made sense, I guessed, but also made me feel glad that I’d grabbed something at the counter for him.
“What’s this?” he asked in a strangled whisper when I placed the bag on his lap.
“No big deal. Check it out,” I replied, then averted my eyes.
He chuckled when he pulled out the small package of Bit-O-Honey.
“See, not so much of a dickhead now, am I?”
He rolled his eyes as he tore into the bag, retrieved a piece, then offered me one. I could feel our thighs pressing together as we sat there and chewed, but we didn’t dare make eye contact. The smile on his face said everything, though, but I made sure not to point it out and embarrass him—or piss him off. He was so cagey in public, especially around our teammates.