Page 12 of Topping the Jock
“What did you guys do to him?” I asked, recalling the anger in Quinn’s eyes and the shakiness of his voice when he said my friends had treated him even worse than I had.
“I can’t remember. That was a long ass time ago.”
“Try,” I said.
“Just the usual stuff,” he said after a pause. “Pushed him around a little, and I think we tossed him into the dumpster a few times.”
“What?” I sat up on the couch as anger shot through my veins. “The dumpster? What the fuck, Z?”
“Hey, I’m not proud of it,” Zane said right before I heard a tiny voice on the other end of the line. His son. Zane took the phone away from his face to answer, but I still heard him. “Go ask Mommy. I don’t think you’re supposed to have any more chocolate milk.”
I smiled despite the anger still swirling in my chest. Zane’s four-year-old son was the cutest kid on the face of the earth.
“Sorry,” Zane said to me. “Anton needed me for a sec. It was messed up what we did to Becky—er, I mean Quinn. The thought of anyone treating Anton like we treated him makes my blood boil. Like I can’t even imagine it.”
It was hypocritical of me to be mad at Zane for something he did back then when I had asked Quinn to forgive me for doing the same.
“Other than the stuff with Quinn, how are you?” he asked.
“Good. I’m settling in pretty well, and the boys on my team are determined and damn talented.”
“Have you bumped into any of our old buddies?”
“A few,” I answered, before telling him about Wes. “Oh, and Tyler’s married now. I talked to him a week or so ago.”
“Damn. Guess you can’t bang him again, then.”
I laughed. “Nope.”
Once I’d come to terms with being gay, I had never hidden it from anyone. I didn’t go around broadcasting it to the world, but my friends knew and so did anyone else in my life who I felt worth telling. I’d lost a few friends along the way because of it, but Zane had always supported me one hundred percent.
Five minutes later, Anton started throwing a tantrum and Zane had to get off the phone.Oh, the joys of raising a toddler.That was definitely something I had never wanted for myself. There was nothing wrong with kids, but I wasn’t the parenting type.
One reason? I’d never had a good parental figure growing up. My mom died when I was a baby, and my dad had been present in my life but not really there for me in the way I’d wanted—needed—him to be.
Wanting to walk off some of my dinner, I grabbed my keys off the counter and slipped my phone into my back pocket before leaving the duplex and heading down the street on foot.
I didn’t have an ocean view, but I caught whiffs of the sea as a light breeze picked up around me. Other duplexes and houses lined the street on both sides, and there weren’t many trees, apart from the ones in people’s fenced-in backyards. Still not as crowded as my neighborhood back in Texas, though. It had been nothing but apartment buildings, pavement, and cheap-rent houses as far as the eye could see.
My surroundings became familiar the more I walked, and I soon found myself on a footpath leading to the harbor. I sat down on a large rock jutting over the water. The sun had mostly set, triggering the timed streetlights behind me. A ship’s horn blew in the distance, and birds flew overhead, probably startled by the sound. The longer I sat, the darker the water appeared.
I breathed in the salty scent in the air and hung my head forward, stretching the muscles in the back of my neck. I hadn’t realized how tense I was. Moving clear across the country, starting a new job, and running into the hot guy you used to bully would do that, I guess.
Because Quinn Beck was smoking hot.
But not just because he’d gained some muscle, got a new pair of glasses, and learned to fix his unruly hair—kind of. It was still adorably messy.
I lifted my head again, seeing the light from the streetlamp hit the dark water. No… I had crushed on Quinn even while in high school. It was why I’d teased him so much.
He’d more than likely punch me if I told him that, though.
I stayed for an hour, hoping the fresh air would help clear my head, and then I walked home, smiling at the thought of seeing Quinn in the morning.
***
Quinn scowled as he saw me in the teacher’s lounge before school started. A week had passed, and the greeting was always the same. He had walked through the door with folders in one hand and a to-go coffee from the local coffeehouse in the other.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I said.
