Page 29 of Fair Catch

Despite my irritation level with him reducing quite a bit, there are still plenty of moments where his neanderthal side annoys me, and this is the perfect example. Because clearly he’s gotten a little too big for his britches when it comes to our littlefair catch,especially if he thinks a nickname like that is on the table.

“Call me that again and we can find out if murder is also.”

He snorts. “I’d like to see you try.”

I hate that he knows the threat is an empty one, so I choose to ignore it.

“Is there anything you’re not allowed to have when you’re in season? Like excessive…carbs, or whatever?” I keep searching the fridge and freezer without waiting for an answer, coming up with a few options. “We could do garlic chicken and broccoli, always a classic. Otherwise we’ve got plenty of eggs, and I found some hash browns in the freezer, so we could make some kinda breakfast casserole that’d be good for breakfast this week too.” Still nothing from Kason, and I close the fridge. “Or we can just say screw it and order Thai.”

I’m almost positive that will get him to acknowledge me, remembering his distaste for my favorite food, but when he remains silent even with that looming threat, I get a bit concerned.

“Earth to Kason? Care to come back to reality for a minute so I don’t starve?”

Still nothing.

Did he just pass out while sitting upright?

Crossing to the living room and glancing over the back of the couch, I find Kason very much awake, busy scrolling on his phone, and more importantly, not paying attention to a thing I’m saying.

Typical.

Shoving down my growing annoyance, I lean over the back of the couch to look at his phone screen, his scent—all oak and smoke—wafting over me in plumes as I do. I’d figured he’d be on some sort of social media, but instead I find him scrolling through the details of a Toppr profile.

“Really? This is why I was standing in the kitchen, talking to myself like an imbecile?”

Kason all but throws his phone across the room at the sound of my voice directly behind him, it dropping out of his palm and clattering to the floor next to the couch.

I can’t help the laughter that slips free, my head dropping down on the back of the couch cushion as I try and fail to rein myself back in.

“You know, it’s really hard to believe you play football with how fucking clumsy you can be sometimes.”

“You scaring the shit out of me isn’t the same thing as catching a ball that I know is coming,” he mutters indignantly while grabbing his phone from the floor, aiming a glare at me when he rises back up. “There’s a big difference, actually.”

“Yeah. Sure,” I say, the words coming out dripping in sarcasm. “And here I thought it was just me making you nervous and jumpy while you’re swiping on some shitty dating app.”

He coughs and blinks a couple times, his neck and cheeks taking on a pink tint to match the red hands I just caught him with.

“Actually…now that you mention it. I’m, uh…” he trails off and lets out an awkward cough, clearly unable to hide his discomfort. “This might be a good time for me to tell you…I’m gay.”

“Okay,” I say slowly, frowning at him. “And you’re bringing this up, why?”

He winces, full of awkwardness and unease, and a good part of me is wishing I would’ve just ignored what he was doing and made the dinner choice on my own. Especially if we’re about to have another heart-to-heart or whatever.

Blowing out a breath, he continues, “I just wanted to make sure you’re…okay with that, I guess?”

I arch a brow. “Because my opinion on your sexuality matters to you?”

“It’s more that I want to know it’s not gonna be a problem for you or that you won’t be uncomfortable?”

I can’t help the dry laugh that comes out, mixing with a scoff.

“If you were worried that could be an issue, don’t you think you should’ve mentioned that the day we met at the coffee shop? Or when you reached out to me in the first place?” I counter.

“Yeah, probably, but—”

“Let me stop you there,” I cut in, holding up my hand. “I don’t give a shit who you sleep with as long as you aren’t interruptingmysleep when you’re getting laid. Lord knows you already do enough of that as it is.”

He looks utterly shocked, like he was expecting me to be some homophobic douchebag instead. “You really don’t care?”

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