Page 34 of Tumbling the Cornerback

I groaned, leaning against the counter and closing my eyes. She had a very good point, one she'd made many times before, especially over the past year. "It's fine. I mean, Lynda does mean well, you know? And she and Mom lost so much when they came here. They just want?—"

"Bup bup!" Renata silenced me. "They just want to live their dreams through us. Swear to god, blowing out my knee was the best thing that happened to me because it got them off my back about dancing. I sucked, and I hated doing it. But you..." She sighed. "Lucas, you deserve every good thing, okay? Andyou are amazing at what you do. Don't let Mom and Lynda's dreams keep you tied to something you've outgrown. Now," she said before I could protest, "I need to go save Soren from Baz and get some sleep. We're gonna go see Del tomorrow."

Even though she couldn't see me, I nodded. "I love you."

"As you should." I could hear the smile in her voice before she hung up. She was far, and I missed her like crazy, but knowing she wasn't dealing with the heavy expectations of our family was a breath of fresh air... And a tiny hint of envy. But I'd have to squish down and examine that annoying emotion later, after this new event promo started. For the time being, I had to balance my work, my volunteering, and just being alive, never mind whatever was happening with Cooper. Taking it slow was the best idea, I told myself as I headed for the bedroom. It was only Monday, and already I was worn thin and ready to collapse. Not talking to Cooper for a few days would be fine.

Totally freaking fine.

I was such a liar.

On Thursday, four days since we'd last talked in person, our time off aligned just right, and we could call instead of text. I stretched out on my bed, grinning to myself when I saw Cooper's name pop up on the screen.

"You sound like you're lying down," he said, almost accusatory, as soon as I answered.

"Maybe I'm standing on my head. You won't know unless you come over."

Cooper groaned. "Can't. Want to but can't. We have a mandatory team meeting this evening. Reviewing tapes." He laughed when I called it Real Housewives of the Gridiron. "Some days it sure feels like it," he groaned. "Two of the newbies got into it in the weight room earlier, just a dumbass dick-measuring contest, both of 'em barely old enough to drink but sure they're god's gift to football."

"Ugh. I remember guys like that from high school and college," I sighed. "They always thought they were entitled to the cheerleaders and drill girls too."

Cooper was quiet for a long moment. When he asked, his voice had a dangerous, sharp edge. "Is that why you said you don't get with players? Because someone thought they were entitled to you, Lucas?"

"I told you. It's because of the contract," I said, only a half lie. Cooper's silence told me he didn't believe me, or at least thought there was more to be said. I thought of Jimmy—Jameson, since he detested nicknames professionally—and something inside me crumpled. As much as I hated him, as much as he'd hurt me and threatened me, a tiny part of me still felt like I should keep that secret. That maybe I deserved to be silenced.

Why, though? Because Jameson wanted to portray the image that he was the right kind of queer guy, placate fans and management.

I wasn't enough. I wasn't right.

Fuck him. I was about to have to work with that asshole while he threw his money around and dragged Queering Sports into his orbit? Nope. "I dated a pro player," I heard myself say, sounding like I was speaking in another room. Cooper made a startled sound. "Uh, it was several year ago. I was in my last year at undergrad and just starting out pro myself."

"Do I know him?"

I heard the unasked question. "He doesn't play for the Troopers. He, um... he doesn't play for anyone anymore. He retired after an injury."

"I gotta admit I'm trying to do the math here, but so many of us have forced retirement..."

I worried my lower lip with my upper teeth for a minute. "Okay," I sighed. "I'll tell you, but you have to let me get it all out, okay?"

To his credit, Cooper was very quiet during the entire story, even the parts that made me want to curl up in remembered, remaining shame. "So, I got intimidated into keeping my mouth shut. And really, nothing he did was illegal or anything. Just... being a giant floppy dick about our relationship. About me."

"Jameson Creel," Cooper said slowly, intentionally, "was a shit player, and I'm glad that sack by Philly's cornerback took out his knee."

I huffed a small, startled laugh. "Wow."

"And blackmail is illegal, you know. Threatening to expose you, to make you lose your job, to sue you? All blackmail."

"You're cute," I sighed. "But no. It's not. Marisol checked. She works for a law firm—has since undergrad—and it's just shitty. Not a crime."

Cooper huffed. "It should be." He shifted on his end of the line, fabric rustling as he moved.

"Why do we always end up in bed when we talk?" I complained halfheartedly. "Why don't we ever talk while we're sitting in chairs or standing up?"

He chuckled distractedly. "Maybe it's because it's the ass end of the day and we're both tired by the time we get the chance?"

"Oh, and here I was thinking it's because we're just always eager to try and get each other horizontal."

Cooper clicked his tongue, but he had a smile in his voice. "Now Mr. Ortiz, I thought we were having a serious conversation about Jameson Creel being a human-sized hemorrhoid. Are you trying to distract me?"

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