“Of course,” my mother said.
“When you guys met, it was through work, correct?”
“Yes. You know that, Sean,” said my mother.
“You were both in the same field.”
“It’s true we’re both in the same field, and that’s worked out well for us,” my father put in. “But that’s not to say your mother couldn’t have been a… a…”
“Climatologist,” my mother supplied.
“Precisely. We still would have been us. We still would have had a great deal in common.”
“You were older when you met. Mom, you were thirty-five.”
“What does this have to do with anything?” my father asked impatiently. “I realize you’re only twenty, Sean, and no one’s asking you or, indeed, encouraging you to get married. Which is our point. You don’t need to be getting serious right now, especially with someone….”
“Someone you’ve just met,” my mother finished.
I didn’t want to say what I was thinking—that they’d both been older. That they’d settled. That their relationship had never been especially romantic—just convenient and companionable. A relationship that allowed them both to focus on work.
They were alike, my mom and my dad. Which meant there was no friction. No polarity. No push-pull. They might be man and woman, but gender was about the only thing they didn’t have in common. Two cells swimming in the same solution but never colliding, never desperate to cling together—or be repelled—as if by force of nature.
“You were comfortable together,” I finally said. “And that’s worked out well for you. But perhaps that’s not what I want. Perhaps I don’t want to be with someone so much like me.”
“Sean,” my mom’s voice was softer, gentle. “Passion may seem important when you’re young. But believe me, life is long, and comfort and security—those things are much more relevant in the long run. That’s what you need to consider when you’re making a life with someone.”
“I need to sleep now. I have a game tomorrow,” I said. And I hung up the phone.
Chapter Twenty
Bubba
I stared out the bus window at the busy streets of Chicago. Right. The city where I finally got a clue. Sean wasn’t on the bus. He must have come to the city early to see his parents. They’d probably already had a fancy breakfast and a deep conversation about genes—and how mine weren’t good enough.
The thought of the McKinneys made me shudder—and that made me mad. Hell, I might not be as good as a lot of people, but they didn’t usually scare me. I mean I’d met Tray’s folks and even Rand’s parents. We’re talking really rich and super successful. I’d never felt like I couldn’t be in the same room as them or wasn’t able to talk to them. I’d even had a great conversation with Tray’s dad about the pros and cons of football and its impact on the human body. He was a freaking doctor, and I’d never felt like my opinion didn’t matter to him.
I let out a long breath. Yeah, but I didn’t care if they liked me. Tray’s parents didn’t hold all my happiness in their hands.
Jesse, who was sitting beside me on the aisle, slapped a hand against my thigh. “Come on, big guy, we’re almost there.”
I smiled at him. “Glad you could be here today, Jesse. I thought Quiz Bowl was going to take all your extra time, thanks to Dean Robberts.”
He snorted a laugh. “It’s pretty time-consuming, but I didn’t have Quiz Bowl this weekend, and Tray asked me to come and play.” He shrugged. “Gotta come through for my man, Tray.”
I let out a soft breath. “Yeah, and I’ve been so useless lately. We sure need help.”
“Naw. He just wanted to bring all the firepower.”
I nodded, but I didn’t believe him.
The bus pulled in line behind a couple other vehicles unloading passengers at the back door of the athletic building at the University of Chicago. Jesse said, “Take a breath. You’re gonna be the best player on the field today. Just play great for two games, and then you’ll have a little time to figure this whole mess with Sean out before the finals, okay?”
That was easy for him to say. Ever since Jesse had made his big move and come out of the closet, he and Dobbs had been smooth sailing. I was really happy for him—and really envious.
Guys were standing and grabbing their gear. I nodded. Jesse acted confident we’d win our two games that day and make the final, but hell, with me and Sean both playing crappy, that was no sure thing.
I waited for Jesse to slide out to stand since I was so tall, I practically had to bend double under the luggage rack above the window seat. Jesse passed me my gym bag, and I fell into the line shuffling down the aisle.
Tray gave me a hammer on the shoulder. “We’re gonna win, right, Bubba? No freaking team has a chance against us. Go ALAs!” He yelled it, and the other guys picked up the chant, but I knew my crappy mood was affecting the whole team. Tray always counted on me to be a cheerleader and get the guys riled up, but I just couldn’t drag the spirit out of me.
As soon as we hit the building, all the guys rushed to the locker room, but I walked more slowly. As I approached the door, I looked back to see Sean standing outside the entrance with his parents and a dark-haired guy. The McKinneys were all smiley, talking to this dude like he was a long-lost son or something. Shit, maybe son-in-law. That must be the Oxford PhD, Jeremiah.
I couldn’t help it. I stared at him. Tall, skinny, kind of a big nose, super-nerdy in a more sure-of-himself way than Sean. Well yeah. Oxford. So not my type. I mean, not beautiful and feisty and fun-looking like Sean, but maybe this was what Sean really wanted. Hard to tell since his parents were doing all the talking. But man, if that’s what Sean had a hard-on for, what in hell did he ever see in me?
Get a life, Bubba.
I pushed into the locker room.
I found a locker and started pulling on my socks and cleats. Since this was the semis, the top eight teams in our Midwest flag-football league met for one day. Each team played two games, first narrowing down to the top four, and then the top two.
These two would meet in a couple of weeks at the finals to determine the league champion. The ALAs had won the previous year, so everyone expected a hella lot from us, and every team was gunning for us. Shit, I wish I cared about flag half as much this year as I had last year. Last year, we’d been lit. Now I just felt smoked.
The door to the locker room opened. I tried really hard not to look. No such luck.
Sean glanced around for a locker. Even though the locker room was built for regular football, there were four flag teams sharing it at the moment, and it was sardine-city. But I’d shoved my stuff over on the bench in front of the locker beside me to hold a space. It was still open.
Sean nodded. “Is that one free?”
I gave him side-eye. “Well, it probably cost something to install, but you can still use it.”
For a second, he stared at me, and then he smiled, just a little, but he definitely turned his lips up, and it gave me a warm feeling in my chest.
He set his stuff next to mine on the bench. While most of us had put on our uniforms at the hotel that morning—tights under shorts and long-sleeved shirts in our fraternity colors of gold and blue—Sean was in street clothes. He pulled off a tweed sports jacket and the T-shirt he had under it.