Page 31 of Tumbling the Cornerback

Cooper's voice startled us. Emerging from the dark entrance to the tunnel under the seats, he looked effortlessly, casually cool in a loose, light button up open to his chest and pale blue shorts verging on Magnum P.I. length. Which, by the bye, is the only correct length for men's shorts, so jot that down. "Seriously, y'all have to leave all gross and grassy?"

Ah. So maybe that was disgust and not lust in his eyes. "We have showers at home," I returned primly, parroting what Dani told every newbie with delusions of grandeur. "The team's facilities are off limits unless it's something like this." I gestured at the field. "Even then, we're on a tight constraint and have a babysitter." Two security guards watched over our practice, ostensibly for our safety but really to make sure we weren't getting too big for our britches and getting into the team's beeswax. “What are you doing here?” I added in as low a whisper as I could manage.

“Had to stop by to drop off some paperwork for Coach and I wanted to see you.”

“There’s too many people,” I whispered hurriedly. “I’m gonna get in trouble.” And it was true—Dani was staring hard at us, as were a few of the other squad members. Even with the fundraiser excuse, it was a hair-thin line we were walking. “There’s people everywhere!”

Cooper's smile fell away entirely. He looked up at the empty stands and did a slow, considering turn, brow furrowed, and lips crimped into a frown, seemingly forgetting he was surrounded by the cheer squad and our very annoyed coaching staff. "If you don't mind, Mr. Howard, we need to get going. We've already stayed past our allotted time," Dani called out.

Cooper jolted, shooting her a sheepish, apologetic smile. "Sorry, ma'am. I'm working with Lucas on the Queering Sports fundraising campaign, and we had a meeting scheduled for after practice."

Dani's brows nearly met her hairline. "Did you now?" She turned her sharp gaze towards me. "I was unaware of that. But I suppose what Lucas does on his own time is his own business."

Every eye in the squad was on us. Cooper was loose-limbed, still frowning around the field as if looking for some hidden meaning in the grass, oblivious to the keen interest in our meeting. Forcing a small smile, I nodded at Dani. "It's not a big deal. Cooper, did you bring the, uh, thing?"

His attention moved back to me. "The thing? Did I bring it?"

I wanted to kiss that slow smirk right off his face.

"I left it in my truck."

"Well. Then. We'll.... We'll just go get it?"

He nodded, his own grin slow and sharp. "We should."

"Oh my god," Tori muttered. "You are so getting fired."

CHAPTER 10

COOPER

I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting, showing up at Lucas's practice. Part of me wanted it not to matter, that we weren't supposed to be hooking up or even 'fraternizing' outside of the stuff for Queering Sports. I'd had a tiny little daydream about him running over, stretching up on his toes to kiss me... Though, to be fair, in that daydream, no one else had been on the field, and we'd made excellent use of the bench under the bright stadium lights.

I lingered as the cheerleaders filtered out. Their coach waited, arms folded and eyes narrowed on me until it was just the two of us. "I know you're working with Lucas on his projects," she began without preamble, "and I know the inherent drama in this whole forbidden relationship bullshit, so I'm not gonna tell you to mind your step with him."

"I have the same stipulation in my contract," I pointed out mildly. "No cheerleaders, support staff, other players..."

"Yeah, but who do you think would get fired if this came to light? You, with your high-dollar contract, fan base, and valuable skills that might help the team get to the bowl games, or Lucas, the cheerleader whose career has a short shelf life and can be replaced before preseason even begins if push comes to shove? It gets out that the two of you are... canoodling," she said, rolling her eyes at my huff of laughter, "it won't be you getting shit in the media. You might get a few jokes, some late-night talk show host still hanging in there might use you as a punchline for a week or two, but Lucas will be slut-shamed, name-called, and blocked from the industry. He could lose his job at the studio if enough parents get huffy about the relationship."

"I get it, I get it!" Raking my fingers through my hair, I couldn't help the glower I sent her way. "We're just... seeing what's what," I admitted. "That's it. And it's really no one's business but ours."

She nodded, still eyeing me warily. "Lucas means a lot to us. Not just me but the team. And to Queering Sports. He has a huge amount of potential if he just..." She sighed, shook her head, and seemed to deflate. "If he just lets himself dream a bit bigger."

"What are you saying?"

She shook her head again, glancing back down the tunnel where the squad had gone. "He's an amazing cheerleader, but sometimes people forget that’s not all he is. It’s an uphill battle for him, you know? People want to pigeonhole us into the whole airhead pretty bimbo sex kitten fantasy, but he’s out there fighting for us to be taken seriously. For himself to be taken seriously..." Her gaze drifted back to me, and that stern expression slipped back into place. "So don't fuck things up for him, okay? If you're going to see where this goes, make sure you're sure before letting anything out of the bag."

She gave me a sharp nod and turned away, grabbed her bag from the end of the bench, and disappeared down the dark tunnel. I was left on the field with the distant figures of two security guards pretending not to watch. My phone buzzing startled me out of my moment of what the fuck. I grabbed it to see Lucas's name on the screen.

Lucas: Hey, meet me at my place? It's too hot, and I'm too gross to stand out here for long.

Lucas: And most of the squad's finding reasons to linger and it's creeping me out.

I smiled at the screen like a giant dork and sent him a reply, agreeing to meet him at his place in half an hour.

Lucas opened the door with a waft of sandalwood and mint, his hair damply curling behind his ears and feet endearingly bare. "Hey," he said, distracted. "Come on in. Want a drink? I have tea—hot and cold, water, beer but it's my sister’s, so it's some weird hoppy mess she's into, juice if you’re feeling fancy..."

I followed him into the kitchen. "Water's good."

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