Page 36 of Man On

Lane: Yeah right.

Noah: Seriously dude, I'm kind of into it. Also, you know those girls are flexible...

Lane:??

I know he's in without even confirming it. Now all I have to do is act cool and pretend I don't already have the map of table placements memorized.

It's busier than I thought it would be. I definitely underestimated how many people actually enjoy organized activities. Lane looks overwhelmed right off the bat, and I know my window of opportunity is going to be small.

Grabbing his arm, I pull him towards the section I want us to be in. He's trying to look at the little map a volunteer handed us on our way in.

"Where are we going first?" he asks me, looking from the map to our surroundings to orient himself.

"I dunno," I say, feigning my usual devil-may-care attitude. "I'm just following the short skirts and bright colors."

It works to my advantage that there are short skirts in every direction. Lane gives me an amused eye roll, but follows close behind until there's a table that grabs his interest. He stops, looking from his list to the table, to the table next to it, with a confused expression on his face. The table I'm assuming he wants to look at is the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, but the table next to it gets my hopes up. It's another student athlete association, but this one is specifically for LGBTQIA+ student athletes. Bingo.

"Ooh, looky. Bright colors and a short skirt," I say, rubbing my hands together as I make a beeline for the Blackbird Pride table.

"I don't think she's interested," Lane snarks behind me, but I ignore him and thank my luck that my plan is working out easier than I hoped.

Lane stays to the far end of the Christian Athletes table, chatting with a guy that looks like he'd get along with swimmingly—if the polo with the neck buttoned and khaki pants are anything to go off of. I watch him from the corner of my eye, noticing how closely he watches me while I look through the pamphlets and stuff laid out on the table in front of me. I pick up a rainbow-colored Blackbird Pride bumper sticker and give Lane a thumbs up, taking some cash out of my pocket.

It doesn't take two seconds before he's hissing in my ear. "What are you doing?"

"It's only a dollar donation for this cool bumper sticker," I say, as if I didn’t know that it would bother him.

"You can't put that on our car," he says firmly, keeping his voice low. He's too polite to want to offend anyone, despite his glaringly obvious internalized homophobia.

"And why not?"

"Because you aren't gay. And neither am I."

"You don't have to be gay to be an ally," I tell him, raising my voice enough to be heard. "Isn't that right?" I ask the girl in the short, swishy white skirt and bright pink Harrison University Volleyball t-shirt.

"Katy." She smiles brightly at me, and either I'm way off my game, or there's interest there. "That's right, of course. Are you interested in joining the Blackbird Pride Association for student athletes? I'm assuming you're both athletes," she says, appraising both of us.

"Are we that obvious?"

"You're wearing a team shirt, jackass," Lane grumbles next to me.

He keeps looking back and forth from me to the Christian Athletes table. His face is red, and he keeps trying to edge away from me, sure I'm about to embarrass him. Which is a fair assessment.

I ignore him and keep talking to the pretty volleyball player that I have no interest in, but she's providing the perfect opportunity to ask questions in front of Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass here.

"I'm definitely curious," I say pointedly. Lane groans, and I can barely disguise my smirk at his obvious discomfort. "How many athletes are part of this?"

"There could be more," the girl admits. "You’re on the soccer team, right?" She looks around, her perky brunette ponytail swishing as she tries to see over all the heads in the crowd. "There he is—Danny!"

A sandy brown head turns, a familiar face breaking into a wide grin when he sees us. Well, not us. Lane.

"Lane!" Danny Hastings, a fellow freshman recruit and Lane's buddy from tryouts, excuses himself from the conversation he was in and jogs over. He's wearing a very fitted white t-shirt with an iridescent rainbow outline of a soccer ball and red athletic shorts. He's not as muscular as Lane, but his tight shirt shows off his cut abs, squeezing around his biceps and narrow waist. Stomach twisting, I look from him to Lane, whose eyes are wide with surprise.

"Hey, Danny," Lane says awkwardly, reaching out a hand to shake.

"Good to see you, man!" He pulls Lane in for a one-armed bro hug that lingers a little too long. Lane looks uncomfortable. "Are you joining Blackbird Pride?" Danny's eyes shine a little too bright, a little too hopeful.

I’ve had my eye on this guy since tryouts. He’s way too friendly.

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