Page 56 of Home Game

“He hates everything he thinks I represent. I don’t think Storm can stop and think long enough to care about any long-term plans I have.”

“That’s not true.”

“How?”

Landry gave me a glance. “Have you seen the way Storm looks at you?”

I looked over at a little sparrow hopping around in the leaves.

I loved the way Storm looked at me, truthfully. But that didn’t change who he was.

“Storm might like looking at me, but he doesn’t like listening to me,” I said.

Landry puffed out a laugh. “Fine, fine. Whatever you say. You want to know somethingIremember your dad always saying?”

I smiled softly. “You’re hitting me with one of my dad’s quotes, now?”

“Bet your ass I am,” Landry said. “I remember he said it once to both of us, after a shitty meeting with that client from Atlanta. He said: you can’t help what you feel, but you can help how you behave.”

I hummed. “That was one of his favorites. Was something Margaret Atwood said, and Dad loved her.”

“I think it applies,” Landry said. “Be your best with Storm. If you’re living true to yourself, no one can deny that.”

“I’ll try. I promise.”

But I broke my promise to Landry within minutes, the next time I saw Storm.

It was the first day of renovations at Storm’s house. As I walked up the driveway, he looked over at me, giving me that dimpled smile with his eyes shining. He could be so charming when he wasn’t dead set on being volatile.

Couldn’t it always be like this?

My heartached.All I could think about was being close to him. Having him near me again. Pulling him tight and showing him that I wasn’t what he thought I was.

Chase, one of the main camera guys for the Fixer Brothers show, was talking to Storm, setting up his camera rig in front of Storm’s house. I had gotten ready for the morning and walked next door, and the crew was already setting up for the day of filming ahead.

“That game last night was absolutefire,” Chase was saying. “I don’t watch football, but my boyfriend Adam and I turned it on because we knew you’d be the star.”

“Well, thank you,” Storm said with a smile. “Football can be for anyone.”

“I don’t know how the game works at all,” Chase admitted. “I’ve been more of a fan of your social media than football, to be honest. But when you caught that ball in the third quarter, I stood up and cheered. You arereallygood at catching a fast ball.”

“It’s what I do best,” Storm said.

“I loved the post from last night, by the way,” Chase said. “Not many straight guys give a shit about stuff like that, but you do.”

“What post from last night?” I asked as I walked up the gravel driveway, nodding at them both. “Good morning, Chase. Good morning, Storm.”

Easy peasy was the name of the game. I was going to treat everyone with my usual professionalism today, Storm included.

“You didn’t see the post?” Chase asked, slipping out his phone. “It’s so badass.”

Chase swiped to the picture Storm had posted last night. He was shirtless in it, like he often was, and I tried not to let my eyes linger for too long on his perfect pectoral muscles.

The photo was of him holding up a sheet of paper.

Standing in solidarity: speaking out against companies that have donated to anti-LGBTQ+ policies.

Beneath that title was a list of about a dozen company names.

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