Page 1 of The Try Line

PROLOGUE

MIK

Mud flies everywhere in a spectacular wave as I hit the ground with an audible ‘oof’. The heavy rain and the hit from one of the opposing team's flankers makes my vision hazy. The big bastard rolls off me and jumps up while I try to regain the breath that was knocked out of me. I release the ball to a streak of blue, wincing as multiple sets of feet splash more muddy water in my face. My teammates take off towards the try line, and I take a split second to get my bearings, coughing and struggling to suck air into my lungs without making a fuss.

Light blue eyes appear above me, eyebrows raised. A twinkle of amusement brightens Jason’s gaze. His twin dimples appear on either side of his face once he confirms that I'm fine.

"That looked painful," he says sarcastically before reaching down to wrench me out of the mud puddle. My shirt makes a loud squelching noise, the thick mud attempting to keep me plastered to the ground.

"Little bit," I manage to choke out.

Jason chuckles and wipes one hand across my cheek, flinging a splatter of mud back onto the field.

"Uh, thanks," I say a little awkwardly. It's hard to look away from him. The sky blue of his eyes seems too bright against the backdrop of such a grey day. Thick rain clouds seem to darken everything around us, but it's still the sunniest, cloudless day in his gaze.

"You alright?"

His hand squeezes mine, and I remember where I am.Shit. I'm still holding his hand.I loosen my grip immediately, coughing out a weak apology. But he doesn't let go. Not until a whistle blows, marking the end of the game, and I startle. There was barely over a minute left when I'd started down the field, and I’d completely forgotten to pay attention to the match once Jason was in my line of sight.

He thumps me hard on the back, and then several of our nearby teammates do the same. They're grinning through their exhaustion, high fiving each other and shaking hands with friends and acquaintances from the other team. We must have been able to score the points needed to pull us ahead. The play was a longshot, made on a wing and a prayer. It was sheer luck that we'd gotten possession. The ball was in my hands at the halfway, and I did what I do best—I ran my ass off, slipping through the mud as I ducked and weaved through their defense. I'd made good headway, throwing myself right into the trajectory of their massive flanker just to get us far enough down the field to get within scoring range. I'd hoped to pass before I got taken down, but their number seven crashed into me just as I was looking behind me for someone to pass to.

My ribs will end up bruised, but it was worth it to end our season on a high note.

"Mik, you crazy bastard!" Clint, our team captain, yells out as he runs straight for me. I brace for impact, holding in a wince when he picks me up and jumps up and down. The rest of the team joins in,celebrating the win and shouting plans to go get shitfaced before running to their cars to get out of the rain as it starts to come down in sheets.

Instead of rushing off behind them, I take a minute, tilting my head back to bask in the heavy shower, letting it wash away some of the mud that is caked in my hair and all over my body.

I feel his presence before I see him. I'm not sure how many minutes pass before I get brave enough to open my eyes and acknowledge him.

"You're still here?"

"You drove," he reminds me.

Instinctively, my body turns towards him, like a plant finding the warmth of the sun, basking in his cloudless blue sky. I gravitate towards him. I always have. It’s been this way since we were fifteen and I moved here when my dad landed a contract job at the nearby military base. I'd had a bad attitude and a marked disinterest in making friends after moving around as much as we had. That year alone, I'd been to three separate schools. What was the point of trying? We never stayed anywhere long enough to forge any real connections. I'd always be the outcast. But Jason was different. The moment I sat at the empty desk next to him in homeroom, he struck up a conversation with me as though we'd known each other for our entire lives. He made me laugh.

My life had been too serious until I met Jason Reinier. He was the sun that broke through my perpetual storm cloud, and he never expected me to be anything but myself. He's been my best friend for four years, and roommate for the past year after my dad moved again just after I graduated high school. And so much more.

"Did you talk to her?" His voice is barely audible over the wind and rain. He's standing close enough that I can feel his body heat.

I nod and clear my throat. "Yeah. It's over. It's been over, but she finally acknowledged it."

I've been dating Janel since senior year, after Jason pushed her on me as a prom date so I couldn't avoid going. He knew she would be relentless once he dangled the opportunity to go to senior prom in front of her face. I'd begrudgingly had a good time, maybe too good of a time. I thought Jason was going to kill me when I woke up beside his little sister the next morning, after a raucous hotel party and far too much spiked punch. But, just like everything else, he took it in stride and made jokes about how we'd be real brothers when I made his sister an honest woman.

The relationship probably should have fizzled out, the same way Jason's brief secret romance with our high school quarterback died down once the forbidden thrill was gone. But Janel is nothing if not persistent, and she loves a project. She's spent the past two years trying to turn me into the man of her dreams, with disappointing results. I've been trying to break up with her for the last six months, but it hasn't been going well. I'm trying to be gentle, because I know that we're always going to be connected through Jason, and I want us to part on good terms. She’s not a bad person, she’s just not the right person.

I might as well have been speaking another language, though. I said, "I don't think this is working." She heard, "we should go on a double date with Ashleigh and her perfect boyfriend." Maybe she thought if I could see her best friend's relationship in action, that we could emulate them? She desperately wants me to be like Ashleigh's boyfriend, Elliot. Don’t get me wrong, he's a really nice guy. I can understand the appeal. He's impressive as hell. But I'm not him. I never will be.

Every time I think I've successfully broken things off, she turns around and acts like nothing happened. Like the time I made the argument that she doesn't really want me. I thought I'd gotten through to her, choosing to have the conversation through textbecause she doesn't hear me when I speak to her. That night I woke up to her climbing into my bed. She showed up in the middle of the night to ride my dick with the sole intention of proving me wrong and that she did, in fact, want me. But sex wasn't what I was talking about. I was talking about her silent judgment over the company I keep, her disapproval over the way I dress, and the tattoo that has been slowly growing down my shoulder since my eighteenth birthday. It’s her disappointment that I'm perfectly content taking classes at the local community college and working a minimum wage job in a used bookstore while I figure out what I want to do with my life.

Last week, everything changed. Something happened that made it imperative that I get through to her. I'd had to be harsher than I wanted, and when she figures out why, she might never forgive us. I feel guilty, because Janel is truly a good person. We just aren't right for each other. And she was never the one I really wanted, either.

Jason grimaces. "Was she upset?"

"Yeah," I whisper, nodding. "But it's been a long time coming."

His hand comes up to push my sopping wet hair off my forehead, raking his fingers over my scalp. I need a haircut, it's almost to my chin, but now I’m not sure I’ll ever cut it again. Especially when his hand grips the drenched tresses at the nape of my hair and pulls me against him.

The first time we kissed, there was no forethought or warning. It just happened. One minute I was holding his ankles while he did sit-ups, trying to think of anything that would deflate the rapidly growing erection that was going to expose my secrets, the next our mouths were pressed against each other. I don't know who initiated it. But when he pulled back, he looked as terrified as I felt.

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