Hail Mary

Niall

Of all the things I expected Greg to text me, asking for advice about how to sneak back into the house after being gone all night is definitely not on the list. I almost want to just call Mom and Dad and bust his ass before he gets the chance to try and cover it up. It's not like he's going to get far. there's no way they haven't noticed he's been gone. I'm pissed at him, because I know he's  probably seeing the girl she told me about the last time I went home. My move has been tough on him. But he doesn't need to send our parents to an early grave worrying over what kind of shit he's  getting himself into. I can think up all the threats I want, but I know I'm going to talk him through it. He's my brother, and it's not like I don't have at least a little experience with the subject. I managed to regain Mom and Dad's trust after sneaking out and hitch-hiking almost two hours away to the closest gay bar, so I can probably help him smooth things over. He's not going to like it, but oh well. I give hi  a call and he picks up right away. Just as I guessed, he isn't looking for a way to come clean and apologize, he's looking for a way to somehow get away with it. But he's crying, so I go easy on him I'm 99% sure our parents already know he's gone. I calm him down and we talk for a bit before he puts Mom on the same call and tells her what happened while I listen. To her credit, Mom doesn't freak out, and the whole thing's resolved in less than an hour. I guess my family has become really good at dealing with crises both big and small. With the phone resting in my hands, I can't help but feel the distance. I try not to let myself get homesick all that often. My grandma is great and the guys on the team feel like a family to me most of the time. But it's hard not to think about the way my life could have gone. I was being recruited by the Longhorns before my injury, and I would've signed with them without giving it a second thought. I could've come home on the weekends, and then maybe Greg wouldn't be acting out and Mom wouldn't be so worried about me and Dad could stop stressing over how I'm supposed to pay for out-of-state college. But instead I had to get injured; had to let myself get played by somebody I thought I could trust. Somebody I thought I loved. Shit. I still need to tell Liam about Danny. I just don't want him to pity me or change the way he acts around me. Then again, the way he left this morning was already a little weird. I thought we were good. Better than good. But he isn't back yet, and it didn't really seem like he wanted me to go with him when he left. Maybe I'm wrong about us. Maybe he's having second thoughts. It's a little after 9 when he gets back, and I'm already showered and dressed. Coach is going to want us down in the lobby soon, and it won't be long before we have to head back to the airport and go home. But I'm not focused on any of that. Instead, I try to get a read on Liam as he pulls off his sweaty clothes. "How was the run?" "Pretty good." He tugs off his pants, balling them up and tossing them onto the bed. "Think I have time for a shower?" "Yeah, sure." I'm such a fucking pushover. I just sit there while the water runs and try to think about what the fuck I want to say to him when he gets out. Thankfully he takes showers quick, just like me and every other football player in the world, and when he comes out I can smell the slight scent of soap and hotel shampoo as he walks by. I reach for his arm and he immediately tenses, then looks at me like everything's going the way it always has. The last thing I want to do is turn this into some huge drama fest, so I take a minute to not just say the first thing that wants to fly out of my mouth. "Look, dude, you're gonna have to tell me why you're giving me the cold shoulder if you want me to do something about it." "Just trying to get ready before the team leaves without us," he says, pulling out of my grasp and going to put on fresh clothes. I let my hand fall onto my knee and watch him, wondering what the hell happened in so short a time. "Yeah, I can tell it's not just that." He grabs hanging clothes from the closet, pulling on his slacks and belting them. We're required to wear nice shit when we come back from an away game; especially when we win. It's a team morale and presentation thing, and Liam's always looked damn good in a suit. But this time I can't really get that excited about it. "It's cool, Horan. We can talk about it later." That's the first time he's called me Horan in a while; at least when it's just been the two of us. Now I know something's up, and I walk over to him, putting my hands on his shoulders and standing there so he can't just ignore me. "I wanna talk about it now." After a beat, I try to prompt him. "If you're having second thoughts or something—" "I saw your phone," he says simply, as if that's supposed to answer all my questions. I stare at him, bewildered. "My phone? You mean the text from my brother?" Why would he be pissed about that? Greg isn't his responsibility. "The one before it." It takes me a minute to even realize what he's talking about. I only remember reading my sister's text. But then I see a flash of a douchey, smiling face in my mind. Another guy from Grindr who messaged me right after the first and hasn't stopped messaging me since. To his credit, he only does it every few days. Usually to update me on how horny he is. Each time I tell myself I'm going to block him, then I wander off and do something else. "What, the Grindr douchebag?" "Like I said, it's cool. Just let me know when you've got hookups planned so I don't drop by your dorm or something." The Liam I see right now is the Liam who takes the field every Saturday. Cool, collected, and totally unreadable. The guy everybody else just knows as "The Pain." And I don't like it one bit. "I don't have any hookups planned, L. The last time I even met a guy was when we went out to Dazzle." "It's cool," he says again, like saying it more firmly is going to make me believe he means it. "Neither of us ever said anything about being exclusive." Ouch. Okay, time to put this shit to rest. "That guy?" I gesture back toward my phone where it rests on the nightstand. "He's just somebody I'm too lazy to block. Christ, Liam, the only reason I opened up my profile was because I was trying not to think about how much I wanted you." That gets his attention, but I can see him fight it. His brown eyes search mine and I wonder if he's been lied to in the past. He never talks about any of his exes, the same way I never talk about mine. "So there isn't anyone else?" The guarded hope in his voice kills me, and I lift both my hands to his cheeks. "There's nobody else. I only ever wanted you." It's too much, and I feel like I've just said something that's going to leave me wide open, so I couch it in humor. "Come on, man. You're my best friend, and I got a hard-on when you tackled me. I thought you wouldn't want anything to do with me if I couldn't figure shit out." "That would've sucked for you if I was straight," he says, and a small glimmer of a smile quirks at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, well. Next time wear an ID badge or something. 'It's cool, you can think about me while you're jacking off.'" That actually makes him laugh and I smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. I hate misunderstandings. And while I'm not a guy who pours his feelings out on the regular, I also hate not being able to just talk things through. I hope what I've said is enough to reassure him. I'm not sure I want to say anything else yet. It's terrible, because I feel it. I feel it every time I look at him. But I just... need time. So instead, I let my actions speak for me, and softly press my lips to his. It's slow at first, but the longer we keep it up and the closer I press my body to his, the more heated it gets until we're locked in another make-out session that seems like it's heading for the bed. I don't hear the door open until it's too late. "Whoa, guess you guys are... busy," I hear Mills say. Shit. Did Liam forget to close the door all the way when he came in? Fuck. We have way bigger problems than that. I pull away from Liam and my face is flushed as I meet Mills' gaze. He looks away from me immediately, and starts toward the door again, mumbling an apology. There's no way to explain this one. Mills saw us going at it, and now it's only a matter of time before the whole team knows. "Uh, Payne, hit me up when you're not... busy, okay?" "Mills, wait." I stop him before he can leave, and close the door all the way so nobody else can drop in on us. "It's cool, man." Jesus, if I hear that phrase one more time today... "I'm cool with it. None of my business what you guys do anyway." "That'll teach you to knock next time," Liam says, and his tone is weirdly... teasing. Mills gives a nervous laugh. "No shit." "Hey, you mind keeping this between us for now?" Mills starts to respond, and I can tell he's going to agree no problem before Liam speaks up. "Why? I don't care if the guys know. Most of them won't give a shit, and anybody who does can fuck off." A part of me is really glad for Liam's attitude toward all of this. It's nice to be with a guy who isn't a complete closet case and doesn't want to chance being seen together in the presence of strangers, let alone friends or classmates. But another part of me—a part of me I hate—is freaking out. Football players aren't always the most open-minded guys. I know that from experience. When my last team found out about me... "I'd just rather wait." Liam stares at me; through me. "Wait for what?" "I gotta finish getting my shit together, so... Later." Mills practically leaves a cloud of dust behind, and I don't really blame him. That's about what I want to do with this conversation, too. "Wait for what?" Liam asks again. "Until..." Until I know if this is for real. "Until the season's over. Less chance for drama then." "What about my dad? Can he know? Or your parents? Have you told anybody about us?" I don't like the way he's looking at me right now. Like I just went back on what I told him. Like I'm kicking him to the curb and he can't trust anything that comes out of my mouth anymore. I also don't like my answer, because while a part of me wants to tell the world, what actually comes out is: "Not yet, but I..." The words come out. Liam waits, and I can tell he's getting frustrated, but I just can't do it. "Whatever it is, you can tell me," he says, taking a step closer to me. I want to tell him. I want to just come out with it right now and put all this behind us. But the rational part of me is chained down. Held back by the ugliness inside; the fear I just can't seem to shake, no matter how hard I try. What if Liam turns out to be just like Danny? Even as I think it, I know there's no way that will ever happen. Liam's nothing like Danny. Except for the fact that this might not be as real to him as it is to me. We've never talked about the longterm. I've been too chickenshit to even bring it up. And I still can't manage it now. "We haven't—" I start to tell him we haven't talked about this yet, but the words get stuck in my throat. I want this thing between us to last. I want to know he's lying beside me when I go to sleep at night, and that he'll be there when I wake up. I want to be the one to make him laugh. I want to tease out that special smile he only gives to me. I want to be his shoulder when he needs it, and help him to back to his feet when he loses sight of what really matters. I think I might be in love with him. But if he doesn't know me well enough to realize what a big deal this is for me, what are the chances he feels the same? "Tell me the truth: Are you ashamed of me? Ashamed of us?" "You know I'm not." "Then why make such a big deal out of this?" Something comes over me in that moment. It's like a wounded animal. Defensive and distrustful and cynical as hell, and up until now, it's a part of me that's only managed to take hold when I'm having a really bad week. But right now, it busts free, and all hell breaks loose. "Because it is a big deal. You weren't the one paralyzed because someone hates what you are, so fuck off, Liam." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. I see the surprise in Liam's eyes, and then the flash of pain, and it kills me. I want to apologize. Tell him what a fucking idiot I am. But that other version of me still has a strangle hold, and I just stand there, helpless to fight against it. "Yeah. No problem," he says, and stuffs his blazer and everything else into his bag, hefting it over his shoulder and walking right past me. "Liam..." "Turn in the keys when you leave." The door closes behind him and I'm left alone, hating myself more than I ever have in my life.