#Rev (GearShark #2) (16 page)

“Yeah.” Lorhaven rubbed a hand over his head and blew out a breath. Again, I felt a feeling of relief tumble off him. “Yeah, I think that would be good for him.”

“For sure,” Trent said, leaning back against the side of the Fastback, finally relaxing. “But I am gonna have to tell him Forrester is spoken for.”

I suppressed a smile. Kinda made me proud Trent wanted to stake his claim.

Lorhaven grunted and then offered me his hand. I shook it.

Then, to my surprise, he did the same to Trent. For a second, I thought maybe T would rebuff him, the way he looked down at the outstretched hand. But then he straightened and slid his palm against Lorhaven’s.

“You ever need some backup dealing with the douche nozzles that pounded your face, call me. Some guys just deserve a good ass kicking,” Lorhaven said as they spoke.

“I got it handled,” Trent replied.

“I figured.”

In the wide doorway of the garage, Lorhaven stopped and turned back. “Maybe let him down easy,” he said to me.

I half smiled. “Done.”

Trent made a sound. “Drew’s too old for him anyway.”

Again, that sad smile crossed his features. “Arrow’s a lot older than the calendar. Wise beyond his years in a lot of ways.”

He jogged out into the rainstorm, not even wincing when the splattering rain attacked his shoulders and head. I watched him until he disappeared into his Corvette and the headlights cut across the pavement.

Trent leaned back against the Fastback, his eyes focused on me. “That was the last thing I expected today.”

“No shit.” I agreed.

But as far as surprises went, it was pretty good one.

Not only did I have the people I lived with and Trent by my side, but now I had an ally in the racing world.

An ally in the form of my rival.

Which, oddly, made the fact he offered us alliance a lot more legit.

Today was a good day for me. So much support. So much acceptance. It wouldn’t all be like this. I wasn’t so naïve to think that.

However, I wasn’t as alone as maybe I’d thought.

Trent

That confrontation with Lorhaven pushed me off the ledge I was teetering on. The second he looked at Drew and me and the realization hit his eyes, I stepped.

No. I didn’t just step.

I leapt.

Something in me snapped. It was an audible sound inside my head.

I was reminded exactly who I was.

Exactly who I wanted to be.

I was strong. I was capable. I might not be what everyone thought, but I was better.

Possessive and protective. That was us.

There was no turning back now. We’d come too far. My love was too deep. The point of no return was an interesting place. It was a state of mind, an acceptance of the future and a vow to leave the past exactly where it belonged.

Behind me.

All that was left now was to move forward.

The week went fast. I had to admit watching Con and his three little accomplices squirm was a special kind of fun. Some might say I was playing with my food…

But didn’t they deserve it?

Did knowing punishment was coming, but not knowing when or how, make it worse?

By the looks on their faces every time I saw them… oh yeah.

Those weeks Con spent chirping in my ear like an annoying little insect, whispering dirty words and intentions… Now I was giving him a dose of that, too. Every chance I got.

On Wednesday night, we had a frat party. Not a new occurrence. But this was a special party because my brothers were using it as a recon mission, trying to figure out who jumped me.

And me? I was very hospitable.

I handed out beers, taking care to make sure I gave one each to my four special friends.
Ah
, the dubious way they stared at those beers, silently wondering what I’d put in them when no one was looking.

Of course I stood there and waited for them to drink them. There was no way they could get out of it. What kind of blasphemy would it be to deny a personally poured beverage from your leader?

Suckers.

I admit I thought about slipping a little special something in their drinks.

But almost as soon as the idea occurred, I nixed it. Something like that was done to Ivy once. That shit wasn’t funny, and doing it would only pull me down to the level of the creep who did it to her.

Plus, I’d rather they be conscious and alert for my payback.

By the weekend, the bruises on my face and body were yellowed and fading. The cut on my head no longer needed a butterfly. My ribs still hurt, but at least I didn’t favor my opposite side as much.

I gave some credit for my healing to the Wolves coach. Even though technically the season was over, he was still committed to his players.

I walked into his office busted, and he made it his mission to make sure every time I walked out, I was a little bit stronger. It was the football way of life.

Busted happened. Healing happened, too.

The Wolves had a damn good medical and training program for the players. I had access to the trainers, the physical therapist, and all the equipment in the state-of-the-art gym.

I’d seen the trainer three times this week. The therapist dropped in the first day to help write out a plan and approved exercises that would help accelerate the healing, but still be safe and not make my rib area worse.

Coach asked me once what happened to me. I gave him the same exact story I told the frat. I knew he smelled my bullshit, but he didn’t call me on it.

Once word got around I was training in the gym, some of the other players came around, and we’d all work out together. So in a way, getting jumped was a blessing.

A fucked-up blessing, but one all the same.

I missed my football brothers. Sure, I saw them on campus and they came to the frat parties, but I missed the comradery of the team. The sounds and echoes of the locker room.

I had that back now. I had them rallying around me because someone beat my ass. I even got several of them involved in the charity football game we were putting together.

It was going to be sweet. Romeo, Braeden, and the boys all back on the field together again for one last time.

Hells yeah.

But, yeah. I often wondered if the Wolves would still come if they knew I was gay. I wished I didn’t have that doubt whispering in the back of my head. I knew someday I wouldn’t.

Someday soon, like
very
soon, I would know the answer.

It would be a defining time in my life. In Drew’s life. We would find out who our true friends were.

We checked into the same hotel we stayed at when Drew met with Ron Gamble the first time. We didn’t even bother driving up to the valet; there was no point. Drew would never let anyone drive his car (besides me of course), and I didn’t need dropped off at the door.

Once the Mustang was parked in a relatively safe spot, we grabbed our bags and walked to the entrance. I recognized the valet right away; it was the same one from before. I didn’t expect him to remember us, but he did.

“The Fastback right?” he asked, looking at me, not Drew.

I grinned. “Hey, man. How ya doing?”

“Another day, another dollar,” he quipped.

Drew looked between us, confused.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out some cash. “You remember the deal from last time?” I asked, holding up the green.

The valet inclined his dark head. “Of course. Your car will be safe.”

“Thanks, man.” I slapped the cash into his hand and pointed to the spot where it was parked. He nodded and pocketed the money.

When we were out of earshot, Drew looked at me. “What the hell was that?”

“Insurance. Making sure the car doesn’t get jacked while we’re here.”

“You paid the valet to watch my car last time we were here?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged and pulled open the door leading into the muted gold tones of the hotel lobby.

“Always looking out, aren’t you?” he asked, warmth lighting his eyes.

“Always.” I agreed.

His fist appeared between us, so I bumped it out.

After we checked in, on the way past the large fountain with the couple beneath the umbrella, Drew’s phone went off.

He ignored it.

In the elevator, I gestured to his pocket. “You gonna check that?”

“Nope.”

My phone went off. I pulled up the text message. It was from Joey.

You in town? Why isn’t Drew answering his phone?

@Hotel now,
I texted back.
He’s checking in.

Yep. I lied. My loyalty would always be with Drew. I had a good idea why he was ignoring his phone, even though the only thing he was actually doing was making the fixation on the fucking thing worse.

Telling Joey what was going on inside my person’s head was not on my to-do list. If he wasn’t ready to talk about it, then he wasn’t ready.

We have dinner plans. I’m coming to pick you up.

Wait. What? First I’d heard of this. “We have dinner tonight with Joey?” I asked as the elevator slid to a stop.

Drew gave me a
WTF
look.

What dinner plans?
I texted.
At the same time, I said, “Maybe if you picked up your phone one of the hundred times it’s gone off, we might know what the hell’s going on.”

I’ll be there in twenty. Send me your room number.

I shot off a quick reply with our room number as we walked down the empty, swanky hall and stopped in front of our pristine white door.

The puzzling fact we had some surprise dinner plans fell off my map for a moment. Instead, as I watched Drew unlock the door, a giddy kind of feeling washed over me. I was nervous. A whole night alone in a hotel room with him.

No worrying about anyone on the other side of the walls. No frat brothers to sneak past, no family members to wake. Showering together and leaving the bathroom door open.

The same bed.

Him beside me.

Breakfast in our boxers.

Little things that were the big things. Moments I’d been waiting for.

The last time we were in this hotel, I’d been wound so tight I’d barely slept. Knowing he was so close, knowing I couldn’t touch him how I wanted. It wasn’t like that anymore. Our relationship grew into something I honestly only thought I would imagine and never get to live.

This time, when I sank into the cloudlike king-size bed, he would, too.

I felt like I did the morning of my first college football game. Scared and excited at the same time. I felt like a kid on at date at the movies, thinking of a sly way to pull off the “movie move.”

So many firsts. So many feelings and experiences that were new. With Drew, it was sort of like I was learning to live all over again, so even the simplest of things felt firsthand.

“What’d she say?” Drew asked, holding open the door from inside the room and patiently waiting for me to enter.

Slipping the phone into my pocket, I stepped in, and the definitive click of the door latching behind us made the hand curled around the handle of my duffle spasm just a little.

“Said she’d be here in twenty.”

“I didn’t make dinner plans with her,” he muttered.

“I don’t think she cares,” I cracked and headed through the main room toward the bedroom.

The room itself looked almost identical to the one we stayed in before.

Like we were getting a do-over.

The door opened into a square sitting area with a large dark-gray couch (that pulled out), a coffee table, rug, and lamp. Against the far wall was a small brown table that could seat four, and there was a huge flat-screen on the wall.

Near the door that led to the bedroom was a wet bar with a granite-topped counter and sink. There was a mini fridge, coffee maker, and all the other usual stuff hotels laid out for guests. I bypassed it and stepped into the ample square bedroom.

The bed was in the center, made up all in white. Still looked as fluffy and comfortable as the first time. There was a flat-screen, some other furniture I barely even looked at, and a door that led into the bathroom.

Everything in the suite was done in muted shades of gray and white. It was a clean design, and I was glad there wasn’t a bunch of granny decorations. You know, mauve flowers and shit.

My duffle hit the floor near my feet.

“You gonna share that big-ass bed this time?” Drew asked, watching me from the doorway.

I turned and matched his sly smile with one of my own. “I’d have shared it last time, too.”

His duffle joined mine, and he dove on the bed. He was wearing a pair of jeans—for once they weren’t nearly black. These were faded and soft-looking; around the hem, they were starting to fray just slightly.

When he rolled and stretched his arms beneath his head, the long-sleeved blue T-shirt he was wearing rode up and exposed a sliver of skin at his waist.

I couldn’t stop staring at that peak of skin. I daydreamed about leaning over him and tracing the area with my tongue…

“Are you listening to me?”

“Huh?” I said, snapping out of the fantasy.

His smile was slow and knowing. “I was planning on room service, some TV, and clothing optional.”

“Shower with the door open?” I added.

“I like the way you think, frat boy.” His dimple flashed, and he patted the mattress beside him.

Instead of lying down, I dove on the bed. Right on top of Drew.

“Ugghhh,” he groaned when I landed. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Ignoring the protest in my ribs, I pushed up onto my elbows and hovered over his face. “You need mouth to mouth?”

I didn’t bother waiting for an answer. I didn’t really care. I was the one who wanted mouth to mouth.

The deeper I kissed, the farther I sank into him. We molded into the bed as a single indent, one of his legs pushed through mine, and I kissed just a little deeper. As we fused together, I rubbed my chin against his stubble, letting the rough sensation send goose bumps down my spine.