Page 6 of Tumbling the Cornerback

COOPER

“Whoooo-eeeee! It’s Mister Spokesmodel!”

“Oh my god, shut up,” I muttered, ducking my face as the guys laughed. It wasn’t quite the preseason yet, but more days than not had been spent working out. Getting ready for getting ready basically.

It sucked.

I loved it.

Except for days like today when the guys decided to take the piss. I knew they meant no harm, but I felt bad this time. Mostly because of the look on Lucas’s face when Byrne cornered me and lionized me for Lucas’s hard work.

“Come on, you’re telling me you’re not proud of this pic?” Rye asked, holding up his phone. There I was, grinning like a doofus, at the top of the page on Austin News Now’s sports page.

Shoot.

“Whatcha smilin’ at?” Wyatt teased. “Lookin’ at those cheerleaders?”

“Shut up,” I grumbled, reaching for the clean shorts I’d shoved in my bag that morning. Even after the showers, I felt gross and sticky. I couldn’t wait to get home and take a long soak in that massive tub I’d splurged on. Maybe some bubbles.

“Thought you were queer,” one of the other guys called out. I didn’t recognize him immediately, so it had to be one of the reserve players who came out for training with us.

“You thought right,” I said.

“Oh, you checking out that little twink then?”

One of the other reserve players groaned. “Oh my god, Harris! You can’t say twink. You’re straight.”

“What?” he yelped. “Who says?”

Wyatt chose that moment to saunter closer, still holding his phone where I could see the picture. “Seriously, man, you keep staring at him like that, he’s gonna catch on.”

I shrugged. “Who said I was looking at Lucas?”

“Dude.”

“Dude,” I mimicked, pulling a clean shirt. “Look, this,” I flicked his phone, “is bullshit. I’m just the flavor of the month for these media guys. Soon as the season starts, they’ll all become armchair quarterbacks again, and I’ll be old news until I fuck up mid-game or something.”

Wyatt shoved his phone in his shorts pocket. “I was there on Saturday,” he reminded me with a small smile. “I saw how you were eyeballin’ him. And I know you were pretty pissed off about this Byrne situation.”

Nodding, I swallowed hard. “It’s bull. I had nothing to do with the event other than just showing up. Everyone with Queering Sports was singing his praises, and now I look like the asshole who tried to take credit.”

Whistling low and long through his teeth, Wyatt shook his head. “What does Caitlin have to say about all this?”

I winced inwardly. Caitlin Cole was the team’s PR go-to and protective as all hell, but she also didn’t take nonsense from anyone, including us. Especially us. So far, I’d been on her good side, but I’d heard some stories about her running guys who screwed up through the wringer. “No freaking idea, man. I haven’t heard anything from them, but I let my agent know what’s up, and he’s not happy.” Neither was the cheer team’s PR person. From the looks of things after the event, she’d been mad enough to shoot sparks. She hadn’t said anything to me directly, and I’d hoped it was because she knew I had nothing to do with Byrne and Green’s shenanigans.

She seemed like someone I didn’t want to get on the wrong side of.

“Look, I don’t really know Lucas at all. I’ve seen him at a few PR events and obviously at the games, but for the most part, us and the cheerleaders?” He made a slicing motion with one hand, cutting something down the middle. “Two separate entities. They do their thing, we do ours, and we stay out of one another’s way. But from what I do know? Lucas isn’t a doormat. If you’ve pissed him off, you’re gonna find out sooner rather than later.”

“Hey, Wy, you coming?” Rye called.

“Later, Coop,” Wyatt said, giving my arm a shove. “Talk to Caitlin."

Turned out I didn’t need to go track her down. As if summoned by Wyatt’s suggestion, my phone flashed with an incoming call. “Welp.”

Wyatt shot me a sympathetic glance and tight smile. “Make it right, man. We’re giving you shit about it, but you know how much it sucks to have someone diminish your accomplishments, right?”

I nodded, numb, and grabbed my phone before it could roll over to voicemail. “Hello?”

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