Page 68 of Hot Streak

Jackson hoped, fervently, that it was the former way more than the latter—but he still couldn’t deny the latter was some small part of his motivation.

The noise from the bar spilled out in the courtyard, and Jackson glanced up to see Connor, eyes glassy and face flushed, walking out of the bar, Ro and TJ trailing after him.

“Thought I saw you out here,” Connor said, setting a hip on the edge of the table, only inches away from where Jackson was sitting.

Deke’s eyebrows raised and he shot Jackson a cautionary glance.

He didn’t have to. It was obvious that Connor was feeling some kind of way.

“Here I am,” Jackson said.

“Should I be jealous?” Connor asked petulantly—even though it was clear he already was, and nothing Jackson could say would change that.

He certainly wasn’t going to say, not in front of Ro and TJ, that even though Deke was gay, Connor had absolutely nothing to worry about. Deke wasn’t going to be the thing stopping Jackson from touching him.

That was sanity.

“No,” Deke said, chuckling under his breath. Clearly he’d read the situation just as easily as Jackson had.

“Are you drunk?” Jackson asked, even though he hadn’t intended to. If Connor wanted to get wasted tonight, that stupid as fuck decision was all his.

“A little,” Connor said, shooting him a lopsided smile.

“You’re gonna regret that in the morning,” Jackson said bluntly.

“I tried to tell him,” Ro pointed out.

“A hundred people couldn’t have held him back from drinking everything he could get his hands on tonight,” TJ said under his breath.

“You are a drag,” Connor retorted, shooting his friends a look. Then he turned those big blue eyes back on Jackson. Straight up fluttered his lashes. “You wanna take me back to the room?”

Jackson absolutely did not. But then if he didn’t, Connor might drink more. Might do more than that—he might make a spectacle of himself and forget why acting like this was a bad idea.

Of course, it had been clear that Connor hadn’t agreed with him that it was a bad idea. Connor was so stupid he’d probably believe he could hit on everyone, proclaim his sexuality to the skies, and think he’d never pay for it.

Davy didn’t.

It was kinda true. The player who had ended up accidentally exposing Jackson’s sexuality had ended up on another major league team and had made a respectable career for himself. According to Deke, it hadn’t hurt him, either, but then he hadn’t made it to the show yet.

But Jackson hadn’t been so lucky. The truth had killed, slowly, what was left of all his hopes and dreams.

“Fine, yes, let’s go back to the room,” Jackson said and stood. He nodded at Deke and, grabbing Connor’s arm, started to steer him towards the courtyard’s exit.

“You seem mad at me,” Connor said playfully, leaning into Jackson’s touch, not shying away from it, the way he should.

“I’m not,” Jackson said. But he kinda was, wasn’t he?

He was fucking furious Connor would jeopardize all the hazy brilliance of his future for a pair of quick orgasms.

Maybe that’s not all it would be.

But Jackson ignored that voice. First off, it wasn’t happening at all, and second off, he and Connor were definitely not some star-crossed epic love story.

Connor stumbled and Jackson propped him up against the brick front of a dark building. “You alright?” he asked, even as he told himself he didn’t give a shit if Connor was alright.

It was his job, sure, but it was more than that.

Maybe it would make him feel slightly less like a washed-up try-hard if he could convince Connor to make the right choice. To take the better path.

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