Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
And this was why I still played soccer. Sure, I loved the sport, but the camaraderie of queer athletes was like a balm to an old injury. A reminder that all hadn’t been lost.
Our laughter petered out when Coach Kev jogged up a moment later.
Kev was a tall, handsome bald man in his forties who owned a gym with his husband and coached soccer in his spare time. He was only ten or fifteen years older than most of us, yet he had a paternal aura and the no-nonsense vibe the Mavericks needed to stay focused and win games. And since we’d led our league in scoring for the past three years, I’d say he knew what he was doing.
“All right, Mavs.” Coach sidled next to me and thrust his right hand in the middle of our circle, waiting for the rest of us to follow suit before he continued. “Watch out for the wings. They’re faster than the fall squad. We’re keeping this short today with ten-minute quarters. Let’s have fun and kick ass and—where’s Jackson?”
Rick inclined his head toward our sideline. “On his way. Looks like he brought his new BF.”
“New guy already?” someone else commented.
“Nah, they’re just friends. Jackson said he’s his costar from…”
I turned on cue and spotted my most annoying teammate gazing up at the burly man in a blue baseball cap who looked just like—
No fucking way.
Stefan.
It couldn’t be. Was this why he’d texted me?
I squinted, but the shadows and distance made it difficult to make out Stefan’s features. Which was probably the universe’s way of telling me to get a grip and refocus. This was no time for an unnecessary trip down the ugly parts of Memory Lane. We had a scrimmage with a crosstown rival to win.
When the whistle blew, I sprinted into action, racing down the field as if demons were on my tail. And that was what it felt like. I pushed myself, zipping in and out of traffic, relying on my speed to keep my thoughts from wandering.
What did he want? Why was he here?
Maybe I was a little more aggressive than necessary and maybe I should have passed the ball more often. Not gonna lie, it wasn’t pretty.
The Jaguars had definitely improved this season. Their new teammates were fierce, fast, and they played a bit dirty. Hard elbows, sneaky pushes, and strategic tripping were par for the course. It was over-the-top for a scrimmage, but we fought through it and came out with the win…no thanks to me.
I did score a goal, so I wasn’t a complete loser. However, my razor-sharp focus had been compromised. Usually, the rhythm of the game was all I needed to stay in the moment, but Stefan’s presence threw me off stride. I didn’t think anyone noticed. I did just enough to escape scrutiny, but I couldn’t help sneaking peeks to the sideline, cataloging differences. His hair was longer and his arms were heavily tatted now.
And of course, I wondered what he wanted. This wasn’t a coincidence.
I slapped high fives with my teammates, mumbling “good game” a few dozen times to our opponents before jogging to the sideline to gulp half a gallon of water. I swiped my hand across my mouth, recapped the bottle, and hiked my bag over my shoulder, digging through the side pocket for my phone as I turned, and—immediately bumped into a human wall of sheer muscle.
“Noah.”
I stared up at the man I’d sworn I was going to marry one day, and my mind just went…blank.
“Stefan. Hello,” I finally managed after a few awkward seconds. “What are you doing here?”
His movie-star grin was part rogue, part boy scout, and was as familiar as his woodsy cologne. I stepped backward to give myself room to breathe and look him over.
Stefan Carter was six feet tall with dark hair, full lips, and the most expressive hazel eyes I’d ever come across. Those eyes and that thick, muscular frame had catapulted him into insta-stardom when he landed a minor role in a Spiderman film seven years ago.
If memory served, he’d played a newsroom sidekick with exactly three lines, but it was enough to make him into a mini celebrity. The face, the voice…and the fact that he came out at a time when very few dared had thrown him into the spotlight. His acting career hit a couple of bumps with a few stinker films and TV shows that never made it past the pilot episode. He wasn’t the kind of actor who dodged paparazzi on the daily, but every so often he popped up on TMZ or an LGBTQ celebrity site.
Fuck, I hoped there was no one hiding in the bushes now.
“Believe it or not, I need a soccer refresh. I stopped by to watch Jackson. We’re castmates on a new Netflix series.”