Long Pass Chronicles 01 - Outing the Quarterback (12 page)

“Yeah. Will you let Ev know that we’ve gone public? I don’t want her to be blindsided. Hascomb’s pretty popular even outside SCU.”

“Sure and good luck, buddy. May you have your cock in Noah’s ass by midnight.”

Or the other way around. Dayum, that idea produced a dick jump
. Will laughed and drove off. One of these days, he should break the whole art thing to Jamal. But shit, one closet at a time.

S
TARING
AT
the road, Will grabbed his phone from his pocket. He pulled over to the side of the residential street. Didn’t want to get the number wrong.
Okay, here goes
. He found the number the admin had given him in his favorites and dialed.

First ring. He pushed the accelerator gently and navigated through the traffic to the freeway on-ramp.

Second ring.
Come on.
If Noah was working, he probably couldn’t answer
.

Third ring. It was sick how disappointed Will felt.

“Hello. Who is this?” Noah’s voice reeked with suspicion.

“It’s Will. Uh, Will Smith.”

“How did you get this number? I never gave it to you.”

Shit, this was not sounding good. “I, uh, you left your backpack in my car. I figured you needed it and so I asked somebody from the office for your number.”

“Did you bribe her?”

Not good at all.
His chest felt weird and he had to swallow just to get a word out. “No. Of course not.”

“We have a class in two days. You can bring it then.”

“Okay, so you don’t need it before then?” Why did he feel like his parent was yelling at him?

“I have supplies at home. Those are for class, which is where I’ll see you, get it?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“I gotta go. I’ve got a date.”

Shit.
Masterson
. “Oh, okay. Sorry I bothered you.”

“And by the way, Mr.
Smith
. I hope you didn’t miss football practice while you were stealing my phone number and invading my privacy.” The line went dead.

He couldn’t catch his breath. So much for his secret identity. Will Smith. Captain Paintman. And from here on out, his face would be plastered on every sports channel and page, whether he was winning or losing. Losing.

Loser.

Shit
. He stared out the window at the thousands of other cars ahead of him. Stopped. He wanted to rip open the door, jump out, and beat in the windshield on every car he saw. Smash headlights, kick in doors, scratch paint with the broken glass.

Captain Paintman. Dead in the water.

N
OAH
SAT
on the couch and forced his hands between his knees.
Stop shaking
. Overreact much? Where had he been hiding all that rage? He didn’t even know he was piss-assed at Will for pretending to be somebody else until the guy had called. Then,
blah
. He’d barfed all over him. So why was he so mad? Why did this fucking jock mess with his head? He fell back on the couch and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

How dare Will insult his own talent by taking some actor’s name and pretending he was serious about the only fucking thing in Noah’s life that mattered? Noah worked his ass off to have enough paint to go to class, and this guy couldn’t even admit he liked to paint. Fucking dilettante.

He curled on his side. But Will was so talented. His work screamed off the canvas—rage and pain and a perception of beauty that made Noah ache. How could he feel those things when the asshole never had to work for anything? How dare he be—authentic?

The knock on the door made him jump a foot. Was he ready for this?

Plain answer: no.

He got up, stumbled, grabbed the edge of the table, and took a breath.

Another knock. Three steps got him to the door. He pulled it open. Dwight stood there smiling, dressed like Mr. Academic in khakis and a button-down with a sweater tied around his neck. Crap, all he needed were patches on his elbows. He held out a paper bag. “Hi.”

Noah frowned. “Hi. What’s that?”

“Your brushes are crap. I got you some new ones.”

That was damned nice. “Thanks.”

“Can I come in, or shall we go to dinner?”

Noah looked at the bag. It was shaking in his hands. “Come on in.”

Dwight walked in and looked around the narrow room. “You know, for a piece of shit place, you fixed it up really nice.”

“Thanks.” He sat on the edge of the couch. What the fuck did he do next?

Dwight cocked his head. “You don’t look so good. You okay?”

“Yeah.” He set the bag on the table. “No. Having a midlife crisis.”

Dwight grinned. “You can’t have a midlife crisis when you’re twenty-one.”

Noah clasped his hands between his knees again. “You can when you’ve lived as hard as I have.”

Dwight sat beside him and slipped an arm around his shoulders. “We don’t have to go out. Why don’t I get some carryout at the fish taco place and we can stay here.”

Fish tacos. He remembered chatting about art. Pelicans. Telling Will about his life. He never told anyone about his life. Would fish tacos always mean Will?

His head started shaking. “No. No tacos.”

“Have you got something here I can make?”

Too much. Weird. He’d slept in paper boxes and eaten out of garbage cans. Why would this moment push him over the edge? “I don’t want to eat. Sorry.”

“Hey, no problem. We can just stay in and fuck.”

Noah looked at Dwight. The guy was smiling. Handsome. Influential. Sex was a great way to forget. Dwight probably wanted to top, which wasn’t Noah’s favorite, but shit, a cock in his ass seemed about right. After all, he was already screwed.

O
NE
AND
one half fucking hours on the freeway.
Free, my ass.
Maybe he should move to Montana where they had open space. Oh yeah, they loved gay guys there.

Will turned onto MacArthur Boulevard and pointed the Ferrari toward home.

So what next? Noah hated him. A preview of life to come. When Will came out of both closets, a lot of people would hate him.

Sad. He really liked Noah. Lunch with him had been fun. Noah had kissed him. Probably just to prove Will was gay, but no such proof was needed. Will’s cock was a compass that pointed due Noah.

He turned onto the drive that led to the gate into the Canyon. His foot automatically pressed the brake to slow for the gate guard.

Shit
. Maybe he deserved Noah chewing his ass. Will was a wimp and a pussy. Total derp. If he had even one ball, he’d stand up to his father and let whatever happened happen.

The thought gave him a sick stomach. He had a plan. Play football to satisfy his father. Pay the old man back for everything he’d done for Will. Win the Milton scholarship. Go to art school. Come out to everybody. Live his own life happily ever after.

He needed to work the plan.

Noah kept getting in the way.

Noah.

Will hit the brake. Why was he giving up? He was twenty years old. Quarterback of the SCU football team. Maybe not the best they’d ever had, but not bad. And he was a good—no, make that great—artist too. Why couldn’t he have the plan and Noah too? Who said there was a fucking ration on good things?

He hit the gas and rotated the wheel. One major U-turn later, he squealed his tires back onto the highway and pointed the car toward Laguna.
Fuck
happiness rationing.

W
HAT
WAS
the banging? Noah opened his eyes and all he saw was hair. Oh yeah, Dwight had unfastened his ponytail and pulled it all down.

Bam. Bam.

Give me a fucking break
. No one came to his place for a year and now it was the 405 freeway.

He staggered off the couch and got to the door. “Who is it?”

“Will.”

Oh no. His heart did not just leap out of his chest. He took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked back to the couch. “What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“I’m sleeping. Go away.” He looked up and saw Will staring at his jeans and T-shirt. “I fell asleep on the couch. Still sleeping. Don’t want to talk.” He rested his elbow on his knee and supported his head with his hand.

“Don’t care. You let me in. I’m talking.” Will sat on the edge of the chair and leaned toward Noah. “I’m Will Ashford. Sorry I didn’t tell you my real name.”

“Couldn’t you have chosen something better than Will Smith, for God’s sake?”

“I know it’s tweaked. I picked it in a panic when I registered. I hadn’t thought of a fake name in advance. When she asked, I just blurted out the first dumb thing that came to mind.”

“Why are you so ashamed of being an artist?”

Will threw himself against the back of the chair. “Fuck, I’m not ashamed of being an artist. I’m ashamed of being a football player.”

Well, son of a bitch
.

He sat forward again. “I play football for my father. I paint for me. The sad thing is, I can’t hide the football. It’s too public.”

“Yeah. Even I know SCU football is a big deal.”

Will shook his head. “And it’ll only get worse as the season goes on. They’ll either be writing about how I’m this hero or how I’m the worst thing to ever hit the field. Either way, I can’t be anonymous. But it’s the last year. If I can just make it through, I’m done.”

“Don’t most college players who are good go into the big leagues or something?”

Will smiled. “The pros. My dad wants me to, but I doubt I’m good enough. Besides, I don’t want to. All I ever think about is wrecking my hands and not being able to paint.”

“So why do you play?”

He shrugged. “I’ve played since grade school. When you’re little, you’ll do anything to please your parents.”

Noah snorted. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Yeah. And that’s sad, but it’s still true for me. For all my father is a controlling asshole, he’s still tried to be a good dad. He thinks all the shit he’s pushing on me is for my own good.”

“Where’s your mom?”

“Nowhere.” His smile looked bitter. “She’s a very nonfunctional alcoholic. Walks around in her own fog.”

“Why doesn’t your father do something about it?”

“He’s tried. Kind of. She’s been in rehab a couple times. The thing is, she likes being in the fog. Plus, he’s really an alcoholic too, just a lot more functional. When she comes home from rehab, he can’t drink and he hates that. So he just leaves her alone most of the time.”

“That’s crap.”

“Yeah.”

“I guess there are some good things about being on your own.”

“Yeah.”

“So, okay. I don’t hate you. I kind of understand.” Noah laughed. Not hate was so the truth.

Will sat back and looked a little more relaxed, but not much. The denim stretched across those hard thighs, and Noah’s cock decided to match the firmness.

Will looked down at his hands. “So what happened to your date?”

“He left.”

“Obviously. How was it?”

Why did he want to know? “I didn’t want to go out after all.”

“So you stayed in?” This crease popped out between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, for a while. Then he left.”

“Why did you kiss me?”

Whoa. Whiplash!
Noah shrugged.
Look cool.
“I don’t know.” He grinned. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“You think I’m gay.”

It wasn’t a question. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Will blew out his breath in a long stream. “Well, you’re right.”

Which leaped higher? Noah’s heart or his cock? “Good to know.” He gritted his teeth. “Any fucking reason why you hide it?”

“You know all the reasons.”

Wait. No.
“You’re not telling me that your own parents don’t know you’re gay? No way.”

“Way. I’ve never come out to them.”

Noah opened his mouth, then closed it. Being alone looked better and better. “How is that possible? Did you just decide you like guys last week or something?”

“No. I think I pretty much knew when I was twelve.” He smiled. “Our neighbors had a son who was about sixteen. His bedroom was across from mine. I used to peek through the curtains and watch him dress. Watched him jerk off too. Man, he did that a lot.” Will laughed. “I got hard every time, and I ended up beating my meat as much as he did. One day I finally realized that he had a sister who walked around the backyard wearing, like, nothing. I never looked at her, just him. That’s when I got worried.”

Had Noah ever been worried about being gay? Maybe a little. “But you date a girl. I saw you with her hanging all over your body.”

“Yeah. For the last couple years I’ve had sex with girls. I hoped I was bi.” He leaned his elbows on his knees and shook his head. “It doesn’t work very well. I even had to take Viagra once. I finally gave up and broke up with her.”

“When?”

“Today.”

“Jesus.”

He smiled, kind of sad. “Yeah, it’s been a helluva day.”