Page 38 of Tumbling the Cornerback

"Whoa, slow down there, I think I got whiplash from that sudden change of topic." I'd sprawled on my sofa while we talked, but now I just wanted to slither onto the floor. I regretted my panicked question earlier, but Heloise was a terrier with a pup cup when it came to things I didn't want to talk about.

"Take a salt tablet. Walk it off," she gruffed in imitation of our infamous high school football coach. "What the hell did you mean by how did I know with David? Because he walked out on me. And he's a lying liar who lies."

In for a penny... "But nothing before that? I mean, you were bananas for him for years. Y'all were like the perfect couple until you weren't. There wasn't any lead up or anything?"

Ouisie was quiet for a long moment. Greggy sang along with some show in the background, the only thing letting me know she hadn't hung up on me. "I don't think there was," she finally said, low and sharp. "For months after, I picked apart every conversation, every glance, every sigh... I wanted evidence, some sign I'd missed so I could point out how dumb I'd been and how it should've been obvious because look, here's proof that David's a shitlord of the highest order."

"But there was nothing," I finished for her.

"Probably not. I'm sure I missed something, but if there is, it was so small as to be negligible. He never verbally abused me, never hit me. Hell, until the morning he left, he was seriously in the running for world's best boyfriend." She sighed, the sound changing for a moment as Greggy's voice grew clearer. Quietly, she told him she loved him and asked him to go grab his drawing pad and some colors. "The point is you're not psychic. You are, however, scared, and that tells me whatever you're feeling for this guy is legit. It's the cheerleader, right? The one you said you're not dating."

"It's new," I admitted. "Like... super new. And yeah, it's Lucas. We're being careful, keeping things quiet. But Ouisie... I haven't felt like this for someone before. Not this fast anyway. Or this much. And I'm worried it's the forbidden fruit aspect. Or that whole new relationship energy vibe..."

She sighed. "I can't tell you what it is or isn't, Coop. But I can say you should trust yourself a little more. And if you really care about this guy, trust him."

Greggy's sudden, loud cry of "Uncle Coo!" made me startle. Ouisie cackled, trying to grab the phone back from his grabby hands. The conversation shifted to what he'd been doing in his summer day camp at the Y and whatever was happening on his favorite cartoon. By the time he gave the phone back to my sister, the moment had passed. "I know you're going to dwell on things," she said as we got ready to call it a night. "But do yourself a favor, huh? Try not to fuck things up."

"I thought you weren't hot on the idea of me seeing Lucas," I pointed out tiredly. The day's exertion was catching up to me, and I wanted nothing more than a shower and some food, then bed. Hell, I might even skip food and just crash as soon as I was clean.

"I was against the idea of you getting in trouble for violating your contract," she shot back. "But hearing you talk about him, even a little bit?" She whistled through her teeth. "You've got it bad, Bubba."

"And that makes everything okay?"

"Hon," she sighed. "Not everything has to be a fight, okay? Some things.... some things can just be good."

And maybe she was right, I decided a bit later. My stomach protested mightily when I tried to go on about the evening without eating so I chowed down on one of the prepped meals I kept on hand and headed for the shower. Half undressed, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and thought of Lucas.

Me: Running isn't so bad.

I attached a picture of myself from the navel up, one hand on my chest and a smirk on my lips. Was it cheesy as fuck? Hell yes. Did I care? Hell no. Especially after Lucas sent a reply a few seconds later, a picture of his facescowling and the simple message I don't mind you keeping me up at night, but it's rude to do it when we're a city apart.

Whistling, I hopped in the shower. Some things can just be good, I repeated, closing my eyes as the water sluiced over my face and chest. Some things can just be good.

CHAPTER 13

LUCAS

My relationship with Cooper had been easy. Like, shockingly easy. So easy it made me wonder if I'd hit my head during tumbling practice, and this was all some sort of a dream.

On Sunday night, he'd come over and made dinner—some salad situation that ended up being way better than I thought. We had a beer each and disagreed about old movies. Monday, I went to his place, and it was my turn to cook. He'd been a bit surprised by my presentation of a Danish potato and chicken dish that Del had taught me when I first moved in with him and Renata. That night, we ended up too tired to watch a movie and too sore from our respective practices for sex but curled up together on my bed. Listening to him breathe, resting on his chest, was a better ending to the night than I imagined.

And by Wednesday, we were in a routine. One night at my place, one night at his. We'd make each other dinner, have long and often rambling talks about anything and everything. When we did have to work on social media stuff or fundraiser things, it was all business (except for the part where I sat on his lap, or we were naked. Or both).On Thursday, when the lowkey campaign for Queering Sports hit, we celebrated—Cooper's posts about working with the organization coupled with pictures of him sweaty on the field definitely opened at a tiny floodgate. In fact, on Friday morning when he posted about how the organization was always looking for new volunteers, the online application submissions and the calls Liesel had to field spiked.

Everything felt... good. Right. Nice.

Even when we had to keep our time together so secret—every morning spent waking up with one another meant a morning sneaking out, taking side exits, walking to a car parked around the block or calling a ride share from a café half a mile away.

It wasn't all bliss and roses. We still had practices to deal with. Training. I had my day job and the work with Queering Sports. Cooper had meetings with agents, coaches, trainers, podcasters, and god only knows who else. Those evenings together and those tiny slivers of mornings were little golden drops of happiness amidst wide swaths of stress and exhaustion.

"Nope, you're just really gooey and gross," Marisol said, shaking one of the ridiculous pompoms at me. We'd just been issued our new ones for the season—a metallic version of the team's colors with loopy handles that bit into our palms when we shook them for the fans. In addition to the standard-sized ones we used, a pile of other sizes stood beside the bench, like some sad sci fi monster's egg cache gone disco. "These things are awful. Why did they get the loops?" she complained, shaking one again. "I'm so glad we barely use them, but ugh!"

Liz and Tori bounded over, huge goofy grins firmly in place as they shook theirs at us. "Ready?" Liz sing-songed. "O-kay!"

"Oh my god," I muttered, shaking my head but unable to hide my smile. "Y'all are awful."

"We're cheerleaders!" Liz squeaked, mocking the stereotype. "We're always so happy! We're always so friendly!" She shook one pom in my face before stopping her bouncing and rolling her eyes. "Swear to god, if one more guy on the apps tells me how bummed out he is that I'm nothing like a 'real cheerleader' because I'm not a bubble-brained fuck doll, I may commit a felony."

Snorting softly, Tori elbowed her. "Bubble-Brained Fuck Doll is going to be the name of my garage band. Come see us at Cherry Bo Berry."

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