Indie picks up her menu and says, “No, I think this was a great idea. Dinner with the moms; doesn’t get much better than this. By the way, how’s the porn site, Michelle? You were having a hard time with getting the moaning sound to work when there was a purchase over winter break. Finally crack the code?”
Lighting up, Mama says, “Oh yes. And we added an extra-long moan for purchases over one hundred dollars. The incentive of longer moans was very well received by the owner.”
“We’re in public,” I say through clenched teeth. “A public where people know me.”
“Oh, look at him,” Mom says, pointing at my face. “He’s getting red.”
All three pairs of eyes land on me so I lift my menu, blocking their view. Indie pulls it down and studies me.
“And his cheeks are getting blotchy.”
“That means extra angry,” Mom says. “Blotchy could lead to an outburst. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“I’d be down for an outburst. We haven’t been put in our place by Lincoln in a while. We’re due.” Mama smiles delightfully.
“Overdue,” Mom adds.
“I’ve never seen an outburst,” Indie joins in. “How could we push him to that moment?”
“Keep doing what you’re doing,” I say, staring at the menu. “I’ll get there really fast.”
Everyone chuckles and under the table, Indie’s hand clamps down on my thigh where she gives it a reassuring squeeze. I look at her and she gives me a soft smile, one that confirms she’s just teasing me.
It’s a tender smile that smooths down my anxiety and makes me feel like everything’s going to be okay.
“Oh jeez, look at those two?” Mom says, clutching her heart. “You are too cute together. I still can’t believe you’re happily having all the bedtime relations because of my meddling.”
“How much do you tell your moms?” Indie asks.
“Apparently too much.” Eyes wide, trying to express my feelings through my facial expressions, I say, “How about we don’t talk about what’s going on between me and Indie and maybe focus on something else—”
“I came up with a party tab for the porn site,” Mama says, breaking the moment. “It, uh, gives you the opportunity to join an online orgy. The idea earned us a giant bonus.” She nods, then returns to looking at her menu. “Pretty neat if you ask me.”
Indie chuckles again next to me as I mutter under my breath.
Why . . . why do my lesbian moms have to be porn website developers?
And why is there absolutely no filter even when we’re in public?
Just . . . why?
MAY
Six teal cups are held high in the air as Hartley says, “To another fucking amazing year. To the heartache, the bruises, the sweat, and the relationships we found along the way.”
All the boys clink their cups and then we take back the shot of whatever Hutton concocted.
Burning liquid slides down my throat and we all start coughing at the same time, besides Hutton, who’s smiling like a jackass.
Rusty wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and asks, “What the hell was in that?”
“Vodka and hot sauce. Got to get those loins moving, boys. Big things are ahead of us.”
“We don’t need any loins, moving,” I say, looking at the clock on the oven. “We don’t need to be vying for the bathroom while we throw our last party of the year.”
“Nah, you’ll be good.” He waves his hand at us just as the door opens and Indie pops through it with a bottle of Sprite for the jungle juice. Asher forgot to pick some up at the store for us. He’s had a lot on his mind lately.
“Hey boys,” Indie says while handing the Sprite to Hutton. Rusty picks her up and spins her around, only to toss her over to Deacon who does the same. “Why don’t you greet me like this?” Indie asks me as Deacon sets her down on the ground.
“Because I fail at life.”
She chuckles and taps my crotch. “Not all aspects.”
“Oh damn, look at that, giving our boy some confidence in his bedroom skills. Well done,” Rusty says.
“He has to know there’s more to life than just baseball if that doesn’t work out.” She winks. “He could be a gigolo.”
“I’d hire him for a lap dance,” Hutton says walking back into the living room. “Always wanted to know what it would be like to have that ass grind on me.”
“You’re fucked up,” I say, taking Indie in by the shoulders. I press a kiss to the side of her head and whisper, “Want to go out back?”
She nods.
People will be arriving soon and even though I know it’s our end-of-the-year party and probably the last time I’ll see everyone—besides my guys—I want time with Indie.
The last few months have been . . . simple.
My routine has stayed the same: Sunday nights, we hang and bang like crazy when the team isn’t on an away trip; Mondays, I spend the morning training with Indie; with some intermittent hang outs throughout the week. I practice, train, attend a few classes, and then on the weekends, we play games. The team is undefeated going into playoffs, and the draft is only a few weeks away. Feels like everything is perfect.
Because we’ve learned lessons from previous teams, we don’t have a firepit in our backyard. Fire and drunks don’t really make a great combination. But we do have lawn chairs formed into a circle with a cooler in the middle full of beers and some of those hard seltzers that the girls who come to the parties seem to like.
My girl in particular.
I lead her to the circle, open the cooler, and hand her a blackberry-flavored hard seltzer and grab a beer for me. I take a seat in a wide lawn chair and pull Indie onto my lap. At this point, she knows better than to try to sit anywhere else.
“Did you get these drinks just for me?” she asks, popping open her can.
“You know I got you covered,” I say, rubbing my hand over her thigh.
She takes a sip and then laughs. “Oh Lincoln, you have sex eyes.”
“What? No, I don’t.”
“Uh, yeah, you do. Big-time sex eyes.” She motions to my eyes.
Shrugging, I say, “Is it a shame I want my girl?”
“Your girl, huh?” she asks, taking another sip of her drink, and this time it’s a longer pull.
“You know what I mean.” I pop open my beer and take a drink as well.
Even though things have been incredibly easy these past few months, I keep wondering in the back of my head about what’s going to happen after I’m called down to train by whatever team picks me up. Do I shake hands with Indie and thank her for a great year? Do I ask to see her whenever I’m in town? Do I just end all communication?
Ending all communication seems like a terrible idea, but I honestly have no idea where her head is at, and I’m too damn scared to ask.
I’m so out of my element. I’m confused. It feels like she’s my girlfriend, but we’ve never put labels out there other than fuck buddies. And we don’t see each other every day like other boyfriends and girlfriends do, nor do I take her on dates. When I do see her, we’re usually naked within minutes. Afterwards, we hang out, play games, just have fun, but we never dive into anything too deep. The last deep conversation we had was before Christmas break, when she broke down in her bed and I held her all night. Ever since, it’s like she’s put up an emotional wall around herself and hasn’t even given me a chance to peek in.