Long Pass Chronicles 01 - Outing the Quarterback (22 page)

“I hope so, sir.”

He narrowed his eyes. “So explain to me why I see a story online that describes you as ‘Will Ashford, the SCU quarterback who is battling accusations that he’s gay.’ What the fuck is that about?”

Just like Ev had predicted. He sighed audibly, walked over to the chair in front of his dad’s desk, and perched on the edge. “I hoped it wouldn’t get that far. Some asshole guy who has this nasty YouTube gossip channel interviewed me and Jamal last week. He made some racist remarks and I called him on it. Apparently, he’s trying to get even. First, he talked to Tiffany, who doesn’t like me much right now, then he showed up at a restaurant where I was having lunch with a friend and just horsing around and took some video. He put it online with a lot of innuendoes and made it look like I’m gay for this dude. Some of the press asked about it, but since Evangeline’s ass is a good ad for heterosexuality, they pretty much laughed it off. It’s nothing. It’ll blow over.”

“I figured it was something like that. A guy like you gets hit with a lot of jealousy. But squelch it fast. You can’t afford bad press. Especially not that kind. The NFL hates fags, so kill this stupid rumor fast.”

Will squeezed his hands between his thighs to keep them from shaking. “I will, sir. No worries.” He got up and walked to the door.

“Congratulations again on the game.”

“Thanks.”

He tried not to walk too fast. Amazing his father had taken it that lightly. He sure as hell hoped “no worries” was the truth.

In his room, he went straight to the bathroom, ditched his clothes, and stood under a steamy shower.
Wash off this fucking day
. After wasting too much water, he stepped out, dried off, turned off the lights, and crashed on the bed. Exhausted. Sleep.

The muscles in his legs jumped.
Ow. Damn
.

He sat up and stretched his head toward his knee until the tightness got better. Sleep.

Behind his eyelids, a fucking movie started to play. The face of the linebacker staring down at him with hate. The avid reporters screaming, “What do you have to say about the rumors, Will? Are you gay?” Him kissing Evangeline. His face gazing at Noah in the video.

There was the root of the problem. Anyone with half a brain had to know that look was more than friendship. It screamed, “I want you and I can’t wait to fuck you.” If you looked at it just right, it said more than that.

He turned over and buried his face in the pillow.
Work the plan
. The plan said he had to deny, pretend, convince the press that Dennis Hascomb was a jealous liar. Yeah. The asshole might be jealous, but this time he told the truth. Will had never had to pretend somebody was a liar to save his own skin. It felt like crap. Even if Hascomb was the slime of the earth, didn’t this make Will lower?

What about Noah? How long would he wait for Will to tell the truth? A year?
Shit
.

Will flipped onto his back. Sure, there were other guys. Once Will came out, he’d have lots of guys to choose from. He wasn’t even twenty-one yet. How could he choose a guy now when he’d barely had a chance to be gay?

God, walk away from Noah? It made his chest hurt to think of it. Too much good. Too much right. If he got the Milton, maybe he could leave all this shit and have Noah and be gay and—

Crap, who was he kidding? Throw away three years of college, his reputation, his future?

He sat up and stared into the dark. Holy shit, what was he going to do?

N
OAH
PACED
the end of the parking lot. Where the hell was he? He’d said early. He looked at his old Mickey Mouse watch.
Come on, jockoid
.

Finally the rumble of the motor announced the Ferrari’s arrival. Will pulled into a back space. Not too many students here yet, so he had his pick. He lowered the window. “Hop in so we can talk.” Then he turned off the engine.

Noah opened the door. Seduction on four wheels. But he was in no mood to be seduced. He slid in and closed the door. The small, plush interior surrounded him and made him feel safe. Kind of like Will’s big body did.
Okay, get over yourself
.

Will was almost smiling. Noah wanted to bite him and not in a good way. “What the fuck were two reporters doing in my restaurant last night asking about my relationship with Will Ashford?”

Will flopped back in the seat. “Fuck!”

“Yeah, fuck. Do you know how much that job means to me? Do you know how fast they’ll fire my ass if they think I’m bringing the place bad publicity?”

“I’m sorry. So sorry.” His eyes flitted all over the place. “It’s gonna die down. What did you tell them?”

“That we were friends. We’d met at the restaurant and both liked art so we talked sometimes over lunch. What the fuck did you want me to say? ‘I invite him to my place to fuck every few days’?”

“No. No.” Will ran a hand through his hair and made the curls pop out. “You said art?”

Noah sighed. “Yeah. It was all I could think of on a minute’s notice that we might realistically have in common, you know? I wasn’t exactly planning to get interviewed on the subject of you. Damn.”

“Sure, I understand.”

“Do you?”

Finally Will looked at him straight on. “I’m truly sorry. This is all new. I’ve never been elbowed in the throat and called a fag. I’ve never had reporters screaming at me and asking am I gay. I’ve never
—
” Tears filled his eyes.

Well, shit.
Noah reached out and gathered Will’s big body into his arms. He rocked him. “I’m so sorry, baby. It’ll get better. Don’t worry.”

He looked up at Noah and his eyes were wet. “Will it?”

“Sure. You’ll dazzle them with your footwork and pitching ability and everything will blow over.”

Will grinned. “Pitching is baseball.”

“What-evvver.” He laughed.

“I really am sorry you got the fallout.”

“Yeah, well, if you kiss me, you’re forgiven.”

Will’s lips caressed his, his tongue pressed inside Noah’s mouth, and his hands buried deep in his hair. Sadly, the jockoid still did it for him in every fucking way. He wrapped his arms tight and kissed him back.

As he pulled away, Noah smiled, then froze. Gazing into the car window from a few yards away was Dwight Masterson. The artist’s face was neutral, but Noah did not believe it for a second.

Will smiled down at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I thought I saw something, but it was nothing.”

W
ILL
SET
up his paints on the side table and pulled out a couple of brushes. He looked over at Noah. The guy was already painting, and the crease between his eyebrows screamed concentration. They’d come in separately. Noah said it was wise. Probably so.

Masterson walked to the center of the room. “Today is all about completion, so choose anything you’ve started in the class to complete. If all of your works are finished, do a simple exercise that won’t take long. This is our last class, and Donna and Jaycee were kind enough to bring us some refreshments, so we’ll end with a party—right after I announce my endorsement for the Milton scholarship.”

Will’s stomach flipped. What if he didn’t get it?
Don’t think like that
.

He looked up at the railing where his unfinished portrait of Noah stood beside the completed painting of the old man. He’d avoided Noah’s picture. Looking at that face gave him a hard-on. True facts.

But today was the day. He grabbed the canvas and set it on the easel. The oil was nearly dry. It had been weeks since he’d worked on it. Not ideal, but still—he wanted to finish. It felt important.

The face looked back at him, ethereal, nearly perfect but for the scar. Not quite real. When he’d begun, he’d been blinded by the perfect imperfection of that face. Not now. Now he’d burrowed into Noah’s being. He knew. The painting missed that edge, that harsh view of reality that glared from behind the beauty.
Yes
.

The paint jumped onto his brushes and flowed onto the canvas like so much molten oil. The slight shift of expression. The darkness behind the light. God, he loved to paint. It had been days and felt like years. Was he ever truly happy anytime except when painting? He stopped and stared at the portrait taking shape under his brush. Painting and with Noah.
Pay attention. This is important.

His hands flew. No thought. The paint emanated from somewhere inside him.
Yes
. That was it. That shadow. That hint of blackness that would always taint the light and made Noah so compelling, so dangerous to those who wanted to skim the surface of life. People like Will.

“Remarkable.”

“What?” Will looked up. Masterson stood to his left.

The instructor narrowed his eyes. “You’ve captured him perfectly. Don’t do more. It’s finished.” He stared at the painting. “Truly remarkable.”

“Thank you.”

Masterson walked to the center of the classroom again. “Okay, everyone, it’s time to bring this party to an end. You’ve done great work. I’m impressed with the level of talent and impressed with myself for choosing all of you for the master class.” He flashed the grin that made girls giggle. “It was a tough decision selecting my recommendation for the Milton. I’ve gone back and forth a few times, and I can honestly say I didn’t make my final choice until today.”

Will stopped breathing. Masterson loved his portrait.
Oh God
. His hands gripped the edge of his chair.

“But finally I’ve decided to endorse
—
” He paused dramatically. “
—
Donna Rios. I know my recommendation is only one small factor being considered, but I wish you the very best, Donna.”

Will’s heart beat in his ears. Donna Rios. Donna Rios.

Donna moved from her easel beside him and took a step forward. “But Mr. Masterson, I—”

“Congratulations, Donna. Your realistic style is exceptional.”

The whole class applauded. Will raised his hands and banged them together. He stared at the portrait. Remarkable. Masterson said remarkable. But not remarkable enough to win the Milton. He looked up. Donna looked confused. Noah looked pissed. How did he look? Like his heart just broke? Like his whole life just came to a fucking end? Is that how he looked?

He shoved brushes and paint tubes into his tackle box. He should leave it here. Where the fuck would he ever paint again? A business degree and football. That’s what his future looked like.

He snapped the box closed, grabbed it, and walked over to Donna. She was a nice girl and a great painter. He stuck out his hand. “Congratulations. I’m really happy for you.”

She looked at him with a crease between her brows. “Thanks, Will, but I didn’t apply for the Milton. Remember, I told you, I have scholarships from my women’s group.”

“I figured you’d changed your mind.”

“No.”

“Weird. Well, Masterson has his mysterious ways. Maybe he wants you to apply?”

She shook her head. “Maybe. But I think you should have won. Or Noah. You both deserve it.”

He tried not to sound like he felt. “Obviously Dwight didn’t think so. It was great to meet you.”

“Aren’t you going to stay for refreshments?”

“I have someplace I need to be.” Which was anyplace but there.

“I hope I see you again.”

“Maybe. Very best of luck.”

He walked across the classroom to the back door. He glanced over to the group of students gathered around Masterson, drinking iced tea and eating cookies. Masterson lifted his head like an animal smelling prey. He looked straight at Will and smiled.

Will grabbed the door handle and walked out into the afternoon sun. How fast could he get out of here?

He strode across the parking lot.

“Will.”

Did he want to talk to Noah? The guy made his own way in the world. What possible sympathy could he have for a loser like Will Ashford? He turned.

Noah ran up to him. “Masterson saw us kissing.”

“What?”

“Before class. I didn’t tell you because I hoped he’d be a teacher and a human being and forget he was pissed at us. But he didn’t. I’m sorry.”

Will stared at Noah. “So this is what we’ve done for each other. Managed to wreck both our chances for a future. Shit. One of us should have known better.”

Noah frowned. “Come on. Donna’s talented. There was always a chance she’d win.”

“She didn’t even apply.”

“What?”

“Yeah. She told me. That’s why she looked so confused. She didn’t apply for the Milton. She already has scholarships for next year.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. I guess Masterson was determined to screw you one way or another.”

Noah shook his head. “I’d already given up on my chances. But I thought he’d pick you.”

“Maybe he would’ve. Until today.” He wanted to crawl in the car and cry. “I’m sorry for what I did to you, Noah. If I wasn’t around, you probably would have picked Masterson and won the Milton.”

Noah’s scarred eye narrowed. “Don’t flatter yourself. I wasn’t interested in having a sugar daddy, no matter who else was around. I take care of myself and I’ll keep on doing it. I could still win the Milton, and there are other scholarships I can apply for. I don’t have to fuck anybody to get by.”