Page 18 of Tumbling the Cornerback

He hesitated. “Cooper...”

“I’ve had the worst crush on you,” I interrupted. “For at least two years now.”

He huffed, cheeks darkening. “I don’t fuck around with players. I don’t date y’all, hang out with y’all?—”

I thrust against him, rocking my hard cock against his through our layers of clothing. “Well, you’re definitely doing something with a player.”

And that was the exact wrong thing to say. Lucas was quick, rolling off me and to his feet with lithe ease. “This was a colossal mistake, Cooper. You need to go, okay? I thought... I thought...”

“What did you think?” I asked, sitting up but not standing. We were both hard enough to cut glass—Lucas didn’t bother trying to hide his erection, and I don’t think I could’ve hidden my own if my life depended on it. “I'll tell you what I thought,” I went on when he just shook his head in silence. “The two of us are attracted to one another. We have some vibes between us. And we’re both adults who want to find out if this,” I waved my hand between us, “is something to explore further or a flash in the pan.”

He huffed again, this time less amused and more irritated. “I could lose my position on the squad if anyone found out we even kissed,” he spat. “Cass pulled every string she had to make sure I could work with you, and I don’t want it to all be for nothing.”

“Do you get shit about working with Ash?” I asked, naming former Troopers players who did some work with Queering Sports. “Or Rye? Or Yowie?”

He shook his head, not meeting my eyes. Everything in me pulsed with the need to reach out and touch him, to feel that slight roughness of his jaw, the smooth warmth of his throat and collarbones, to taste him again and again. We’re alone here, Lucas. Why are you acting like we’re under a magnifying glass?

“But I’m not having late evening meeting with those guys,” he murmured. “Ash has been volunteering with Queering Sports since forever. He helps run our football camps. But he’s not a player. Rye, Yowie, Matty, all the guys who came out to the last fundraiser?” Spreading his hands wide, he made a show of glancing around the room. “Do you see any of them here?”

“I just see you.” I stood. He took half a step back, but no more. I moved around the coffee table. “Tell me to stop.”

He nodded. “I will.”

“Okay.” I paused a few feet from him. “Lucas, I’m not asking you to marry me or something. All I’m asking is you don’t run hot and cold on me. If you don’t want to do this, say so now. Don’t... don’t go along with what we’re feeling and then tomorrow act like I kicked your dog.”

He closed his eyes, but I had the feeling he was rolling them even behind the lids. “If my name gets dragged through the mud, I’m not only fucked out of my position with the team but any professional consideration in the field. I’ll be oh, that twink who fucks the players and not oh, that’s Lucas Ortiz, the guy who gets queer kids involved in sports and made the community welcoming for them.”

Defaulting to humor was a failing of mine. I knew it, but I did it anyway. “That sounds like an awful lot to put on a business card.”

Lucas opened his eyes to glare at me, but the smallest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips. “I know it sounds like I’m being overdramatic with this project, Cooper, but there’s so much riding on it. Queering Sports could be so much more. And if we’re able to steer this in the right way, time everything right, then we con start building up and out instead of entrenching.”

His enthusiasm was effervescent, lighting him up as he spoke, hands like hummingbirds when he gestured to emphasize a point or sketch out some vision in the air between us. “It’s not just making it financially successful because, really, most organizations like this aren’t ever going to turn a profit. And that’s fine. All of the money should go to the kids. Queering Sports has an all-volunteer board, and Liesel is one of three paid employees. It’s shit pay even by Texas standards.”

We were moving slowly back to the sofa. I sank down onto the cushion Lucas had been occupying. Instead of taking up his post at the other end, he sat beside me. Our thighs touching and his eyes bright on some faraway goal, he shot me a small, soft smile.

“But the thing is,” Lucas continued, “we’re not only changing people’s lives—we’re redefining what it means to be a team player. It’s about acceptance and understanding everyone’s unique struggles and journeys, and it’s our responsibility to embrace them and learn from one another. If we can make just a small dent in the world, think of the ripple effect.”

I couldn’t help but feel inspired by Lucas’s passion. That kind of conviction made you want to be a part of something bigger than yourself. But I had to be honest with him. “Lucas, I admire your faith, but you’re making it sound like a walk in the park. We both know the struggle of fighting for acceptance and change. It won’t always be easy...”

“I’m not an idiot.” His soft smile slipped into a frown. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve spent most of my life fighting for things. It’s never been a walk in the park, Cooper. I?—”

“Hey, hey, just a sec,” I cut in, holding my hands up in surrender. His chest heaved with annoyance, the bright eyes of moments before snapping with anger. The urge to panic was definitely rearing its ugly head for me. You just got to kiss him, you asshole. Now you’re insulting him? Smooth, Howard. Real fucking smooth. "I'm sorry, Lucas,” I said, my voice soft and sincere, hoping to diffuse the tension that had filled the room. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like I think you’re naive or that I doubt your commitment. I just want to make sure we’re both prepared for the effort it will take to see change. I admire your passion for our cause, and I want to help any way I can.”

His expression softened, and he let out a deep breath, relaxing his body against the sofa. “You’re right, Cooper. This won’t be easy. But the alternative is far worse. If we don’t try to make a difference, who will? I can’t imagine giving up on our community.”

I nodded—he was saying things I’d said before to more than one would-be sponsor who wanted to trade on my queerness to sell their product but refused to actually do anything to help. “Okay. Let’s focus on the positive, then. All the progress you’ve already made. That the organization’s made.”

The tension thrumming through him like a live wire dissipated. His thigh against mine no longer felt like an iron bar.

“You’re right,” he said, smiling again, “we’ve come a long way already, and I’m proud of everything we’ve accomplished so far. But we can’t become complacent. There’s still so much work to be done.”

I grabbed his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know, and I’m with you every step of the way.”

His eyes met mine, the distance between us seemingly melting away.

He didn’t let go of my hand for the rest of the night, which kept me smiling long after I got home.

Hell, I was still grinning like a goofball when I met my sister for our weekly run. “Stop laughing at me,” she grumbled. “It’s too early for this shit.”

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