Page 4 of Tumbling the Cornerback

Yeah, it was a pretty simple and fluffy answer, but I wasn’t about to trauma dump on a bunch of little kids. Marisol bounced to her feet and clapped her hands. “Who’s ready to try some moves?” she shouted. “Total newbies can do them, I promise!”

A handful of kids swarmed up to the mats, the rest milling around and watching as the first group was led through some basic moves. Benny lingered near Tori, eyes wide and fixed on the squad as we went through the routine with the kids. Soon, we were playing music, and they were showing off their new skills. Then the next group came up. In no time at all, we’d cycled through four groups of kids, and several parents approached the QS volunteer at the signup table about cheer camps for their kids.

Benny sidled up to me and gave me a small, shy smile. “My dad’s really into the idea of me being a football player,” they muttered. “I want to be a dancer.”

“I’m a dancer.” I grinned. “My day job, when I’m not a cheerleader.”

Benny nodded thoughtfully. “You can do both, huh?”

“It actually helps to have a dance background. Do you take lessons?”

“Since I was three,” they said proudly, puffing out their chest. “I don’t want to brag too much, but I’m pretty much better at all of it than the other kids where I go now. Mom said I can take tougher lessons this fall if she can find a place that’s cool with...” They trailed off, their pride melting away as their chin dipped and arms came up to cross over their stomach.

“Hey, listen, there’s plenty of awesome places that are welcoming, okay? And if you want...” I motioned for them to come with me towards the volunteer table. “Here. This is where I teach. It’s in Dripping Springs, which might be a little far, but tell your folks, and maybe y’all can check it out. We’re really inclusive, and we only care if you want to be there and want to learn and try.” I handed them the paper I’d written down the studio name and website on. “You gonna be okay with your dad there?”

Benny glanced at Walrus in the tent opening, hanging on every word Cooper Howard was saying. Benny snorted. “Yeah, I think he’s gonna be riding this high for days.”

Disaster two didn’t come until four p.m.

It was exactly at four because Cass popped by the tent to tell us it was time to wrap up. About a hundred kids came through, half of whom had signed up for cheer camps and workshops. The other booths reported great numbers too. The event had been a success, and I was buzzing pleasantly while Liz and Tori cleaned up the mats and Marisol began trash patrol. I hadn’t forgotten about the dads earlier, but I no longer wanted to just burst into flames whenever it crossed my mind.

“Hey.” Cooper loomed over me, appearing out of freaking nowhere to block the orange-yellow glare of the sun off the windows of the Save Mart building. “I was hoping to get a chance to chat with you today.”

His smile was toothpaste-commercial perfection. Hell, everything about him was commercial-ready. His scruff was the perfect length between beard and five o’clock shadow; his hair—despite being in hell’s sauna all day—fell in salon-worthy waves around his face. He wasn’t even pink from the sun and heat, I noticed with a spike of irritation.

“Don’t redheads burn easily?” I blurted. Jesus Christ. Smooth, Lucas. Really fucking smooth.

He blinked, jerking back. “Uh, yeah? I guess? I mean, I use sunblock religiously, and I’m probably about eighty percent zinc oxide right now so...”

My lips twitched with the urge to smile, but I forced myself to nod briskly. A reasonable and appropriate response, right? “Okay. Good talk.”

There. That made it all better.

Cooper laughed, a startled and loud sound making my face warm and my skin tingle. “You’re funny. I kind of thought you might be. I saw how everyone was laughing with you earlier and, well, you just seem like you’ve got a good sense of humor.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was babbling. But big-time football players pat my head and call me cute, and they treat me like a pet if I get close. They don’t babble at me. “Okay...”

Cooper ducked his chin, glancing over at the rest of the squad, pretending not to eavesdrop. It would’ve worked much better if they weren’t all staring at us. “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to grab a drink later?”

Shit. “Uh?—”

“Cooper! Hey, Coop!”

Cass bustled over, shooting me an apologetic look, in the wake of Texas Gridiron Report With Steve Greene’s very own Wally Byrne. “Hey, Cooper,” Wally chuffed, shoving his hand out and nearly punching Cooper in the ribs. Cooper smiled politely, giving him a quick handshake.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Um, I’m not scheduled for any interviews. What’s going on?”

“Oh, this isn’t an official interview! Steve’s talking to the catcher from the Cottonmouths right now, and I wanted to grab you before you got away,” he chuckled. “I'd like a few soundbites about today in our wrap up on the ten o’clock news tonight. You’re the man of the hour, after all. It’s already all over social media.”

My stomach cramped. My nightmare’s come true! “I’m sure the disagreement between the parents earlier wasn’t that interesting.” I smiled. “Hardly enough to make the evening news.”

Byrne shot me a confused glance. “Huh? Oh, no, I mean he’s the face of Queering Sports!” He gave another of those good ol’ boy chuckles, adding, “ESPN’s already got a sound bite from Jameson Creel about the whole thing.”

Cooper blinked, mouth opening and closing like a stunned fish.

“I’m sorry, what?” I squeaked. Fucking hell, Jimmy… Goddamnit! My stomach felt cold and on fire at the same time. The urge to burst into shrill giggles was nearly overwhelming because surely that had to be a joke, right? “Jameson Creel was johnny on the spot with some comments about Queering Sports?”

Byrne nodded, checking his recorder. “Cool, huh? He’s in Houston doing some speaking gig and caught the news earlier.” Red-faced and beaming, he looked up. “Can you believe he watches our segment? Whoooooo, I about pissed myself when I found out!”

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