“You’re awfully cute when you’re clueless,” Jaeger’s voice interrupts the silence. His breath is still fruity from his vape. He pulls it back out from his pocket and takes another hit. “Why don’t we finish what we started earlier?”
“What did we start?” I bend down and slide my clothes on.
His expression flattens and he stares at me like I’m just plain stupid now. “Well you wanna see everything that’s going on in this house, so I thought I might give you a good room tour.”
Without waiting for me to respond, he pushes me out of Lachlan’s office and leads me upstairs back to his room. It’s messy, but that kind of messy where he keeps shit in unorganized stacks and just ever so slightly separate. “This is my room.” He spins me around, and it agitates my side more than I would like, but I don’t show it.
“And,” he walks me back until the backs of my knees hit the corner of his bed. “This is where I sleep.” He piles on top of me, removing his shirt seamlessly as the friction between us rises. I gasp shortly, and his arms wrap under my thighs while he pushes me further up onto the bed. He bites his lip and looks my face up and down. He leans in, starting slow and plucking his teeth against my bottom lip until he finally closes his eyes and dives into me. He grinds his hips against mine, slowly, rhythmically. He pulls away for just long enough to steal my shirt from me against the protests of my sweaty skin grabbing at it. His pecs bounce naturally while he holds my shirt above my head, his golden skin dripping caramel against the dim light in his room. He flashes a quick smile, his cherry lips drawing back into a pucker just before he bends down. His hands support my thighs, pushing down to my ass and pulling at my shorts urgently.
He gives me just enough space to strip me down completely, my soft dick flopping out onto my stomach. He follows suit, stepping off the bed and slowly stripping down while his eyes burn with a particular fervor that ties me to his bed. He steps out of his sweatpants and soon enough, his damp skin is back on top of me, arms flexing gently while he combs through my messy hair. His body pushes my back deep into the mattress, and hot air escapes me as muffled moans. He pulls a deep breath and he lifts my arms over my head, smiles, then dives into my armpit. He inhales deeply, air rushing against my skin and my dick immediately reacts to a man who knows exactly what he wants and how he gets hard. His warm tongue runs from my ribcage up the side of my bicep and I shudder.
“You taste good,” he remarks with his lips pressed against my bicep. He mirrors the same thing on the other side while his hand finds its way to my nipple, impatiently down my stomach and to my now aching cock. He teases my balls, dragging his thumb down my taint before cupping them in his hand, squeezing enough to make me jolt, but not hard enough for it to hurt.
He spreads my legs with his own and presses his dick against mine, humping aggressively but rhythmically while his erection grows to full mast. He presses his pit into my face, and I inhale him. It’s sweaty, neutral, nothing lingering for too long but lingering just enough to make my dick beg for more. Before I can get too acquainted, he’s withdrawing just enough to press a finger down between my cheeks. He pushes in slowly, and I gasp. He covers my mouth with his other hand and grins as he enters me. I arch for him. He presses to the knuckle and I moan, my breath hitching as he pulls out suddenly.
“Fuck, you’re tight.”
I watch his abs tense and relax with each breath he takes. His face sets with focus and his eyebrows flatten while he chews on his lip, lining himself up slowly and dropping a generous line of spit down onto his cockhead. He rises to one knee and lifts my legs, pushing slowly and recoating his dick with spit until it’s slick enough to slide in. He grunts deeply as his head disappears inside me, and the pain of being entered again washes over me. I tense up, but his tender hand holds me in place while he huffs.
“Relax,” he purrs.
He pushes in slowly, and finds a rhythm slowly to open me up before inching in further again. He lets me accommodate him, his body doing the work but still his eyes look like he’s growing impatient. He pushes all the way in slowly, and I whimper as he lodges himself deep inside me.
“There you go,” he mutters.
Jaeger works me slowly, firmly but carefully. He secures himself over me, enveloping me in his pillowy muscle. Then, he swings his massive thigh over mine and steps on my chest. Not hard, just enough to pin me– to remind me who’s in control. He looks at me for the approval that he knows I’ll readily give. The concentration of his weight on my chest makes my heart flutter. He presses down like he’s claiming his territory, proving a point: that I’m beneath him and he likes me there, and I’m not fighting back. His smirk isn’t playful, it twists into something that looks more like a quiet, assured acknowledgement of victory.
He looks back down at his dick, and picks up the pace. He bottoms out in me with each stroke, and each movement becomes more forceful. His pecs bounce and his lip curls to reveal his bottom teeth, a flash of feral pride in a man so smooth. One of his hands digs into my thigh to steady me, while the other squeezes the base of my dick firmly. I grunt, my balls twitching and tightening while his tip presses up against my prostate. The heat rises through my back, down my arms and racks at the back of my skull. His toes curl into my chest and I know he senses that my body needs release. He nods and slings sweat off of his chin.
“I know you’re close.”
“Fuck,” I whimper.
My hole clenches around his dick and my muscles begin to twitch, my body jolting and then tensing so hard my abs threaten to cramp. I spill my seed down my abs, my breathing becoming impossibly sharp while grunts leave my clenched jaw. Jaeger smiles at me and keeps pumping, his movements getting more aggressive until he’s fully pounding me, his thighs slapping against mine. He pulls out and climbs over me, for a moment crushing me under his foot with his full body weight as he stands full height over me like a conqueror daring me to revolt. His long dick swings as he positions it in front of my mouth, his hand working it almost desperately. I grab his pecs and etch lines into his smooth, hairless muscle with my fingernails. He pushes his dick into my mouth until he can’t fit it any further. I adjust and he finds his way all the way down my throat while he exhales sharply. His dick twitches, balls contracting and then sagging again against my chin. He shoots ropes of cum down my throat, depositing it directly into my stomach. I gag hard, but he maintains a strong grip on my head. His face flushes red, mouth hanging open and the tendons in his neck, veins in his body, each lineament of his muscular body visible just for me. His heavy pecs sag over me as he bends down and pushes the rest of his load into my stomach.
Jaeger finally slides out of my mouth, a mixture of spit and cum dripping down off of his tip and onto my face. He collapses into me, his massive body easily engulfing mine. He rests his chin against my shoulder, and tucks his nose into my neck. I wrap my arms around his back and run my fingers along his shoulder blades. My thighs lock with his, and I close my eyes. His breath slows against my skin, warm and steady. I tighten my hold around him and pull his bulk into me, trying to anchor us both as the tension drains from my limbs. I press my forehead against his temple. He doesn’t say a word until he drifts off to sleep in my arms, the remnants of what just happened smeared against both of our bodies now.
The sun peeks through the window, and for a moment I’m convinced that I’m back in Carter’s bed, but as my senses come to, Jaeger’s still partially on top of me, a pocket of drool captured against his lip while his mouth hangs slightly ajar. I slide out from under him and go to the bathroom to rinse my dried seed off of my stomach and clean myself up. I wash my face with his washcloth, I hope at least, scrubbing under my eyes and around the stubble on my chin. I lean down into the sink and drink greedily. I raise my head to Jaeger in the door frame with his fingertips gripping the top of it. I catch his gaze in the mirror and smile while I wipe my mouth against my wrist. His eyes are soft and intent, and his lips particularly rosy in the white light of the bathroom. I straighten up and turn slowly to face him, quite unsure of how I look to him right now. His expression is unreadable, but it’s uniquely his, but the playfulness in his eyes deceives more than it reveals.
“Good morning’,” he chirps, his voice still rough with sleep.
“Morning.”
My side has begun to bruise, faint browns and tinges of blue pushing through my pale skin. It’s the only thing that feels tangible, yet I don’t have a clue about why it’s there other than the cryptic things Lachlan said to me when my head was still spinning yesterday morning.
“You mind if I slip by?”
“It’s your bathroom.”
He smiles and places his hands on my hips as he slides next to me toward the toilet. He looks over at me while he stares down at his dick trying to command the piss out of it.
“Nice,” I say sarcastically, looking away and analyzing my bruise more.
“You good?”
“Yeah. My shit got rocked.”
“Sure did,” he smiles. Jaeger’s eyes flicker with a mix of amusement but his neck creases as he returns his attention to his stream. He finishes, and I stare at his naked body. My eyes run across the sharp tan line between his flat abs and muscular thighs.
“Does it hurt?”
“Not too bad, surprisingly.”
Jaeger runs his hands under water and shakes them off. He turns to me and wipes his hands on his skin.
“You sure you’re good?” He furrows his eyebrows as he begins examining the size.
“Yeah, man. I just wasn’t expecting something so gnarly.”
“Give it a few days till it’s deeper blue than twilight. Then you’ll feel it when you move wrong.”
My fingers brush the faint outline of the bruise as it spreads out across a good portion of my side.
“Well–” he squints one eye. “If you’re gonna get beat up, you oughta make it good, right?”
“I’ll take that as a weird compliment.”
“Of your ability to get yourself hurt, sure. But don’t get yourself murked before I have the chance to keep you around.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if I’m going anywhere anytime soon even if I wanted to, anyway.”
“Any… any… any,” he teases. “Anyyyhow.”
I roll my eyes at him. He’s incredibly pretty. The way the sunlight filters behind him and through his messy dark hair, and he’s also incredibly intelligent. Not just smart, so keen and observant yet still so light.
“Anyyyhow,” he repeats in the same drawn out tone. “You’re ogling again, champ.” He steps towards me again and kisses me gently, his eyes fluttering shut. He runs his fingers gently up my chest and pulls away for a moment. “The doctor, however, shall not kiss the patient!” He puts on a grand voice and a slight British accent, albeit terrible.
“Now,” he leans down and examines my side. “This is a bruise. It sure is.” He looks up, I’m smiling hard. “This– it’s a bruise. Native to the side of a particularly reckless boy,” he narrates me into a nature documentary. I laugh while his fingers run over my skin.
"Biologist or physician?"
“I’m prescribing rest, hydration, no snooping for at least a day or two,” he stops to ponder, “Aaand, perhaps more time with Jaeger.”
“And is that medically proven?" I test, unable to control my smile.
“Thoroughly– by both halves of my brain.”
I smirk and shake my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re still ogling.” He sighs dramatically, “can’t blame you though, I am devastatingly handsome.”
“And insufferable,” I murmur, but I don’t look away from his adonis body.
“Yet, you’re still here,” he whispers, stepping close enough to press his chest against mine. The sensation is almost inexplicable. To have someone arguably sent by the god of perfect ass and pecs standing just in front of me with fire in his eyes– it makes my heart palpitate.
“I think I’m under strict medical supervision.”
“Precisely,” his shitty British accent returns just as he leans in and presses a kiss into my cheek. “Doctor’s orders.”
Eventually, his hands find mine and he presses me back against the counter, leaning in and acquainting himself more intimately with my lips. I kiss back, hard, pressing myself into him just to feel the firmness of his muscle and the softness of them, too.
He pulls away and finally I have the misfortune of seeing him put on underwear. My eyes linger on his perfectly sculpted legs and ass while he bends down to pull them up. He catches me staring and grins over his shoulder.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
I roll my eyes, but my face is weirdly hot with embarrassment. “Might hang it somewhere for everyone.”
He laughs an easy, warm sound that fills the room as I step back into it. He looks down at my clothes on the floor and reaches back into his dresser and tosses me a pair of his underwear.
“They’re too small on me, but they’d probably fit you well.”
I catch them and raise an eyebrow. “What, you trying to get me in your clothes now?”
“Unless you wanna streak back to golden boy’s room and grab your own pair. Thought you could use something that didn’t smell like your ball sweat.”
I inspect them, running my fingers over the smooth fabric before shimmying them up my legs.
“They make your ass look great, but you can’t keep them forever. Gotta give them to the next boy.”
“Do you keep a rotation of boys in your too-tight underwear?”
“Only the lucky ones.” He steps closer, his gaze dropping for just a second before he smirks. “They suit you.”
I strut out of the room jokingly and go to grab the pair of sweatpants I left here the first night I spent with Carter so I can cover up a little more. Carter’s bed is made like it hasn’t been slept in. Jaeger follows, and lets me take the lead back out of Carter’s room and downstairs to the kitchen.
The kitchen is still. A few cabinets are ajar and a mug with lukewarm coffee and strings of curdled milk sits on the countertop. The aroma of coffee still lingers relatively fresh in the air, but it’s dissipated to the high ceilings of the grand rooms. I open a cupboard in search of a mug to wrap my cold fingers around. Jaeger thumbs through drawers in the fridge and settles on a small container of yogurt and a banana browner than I would eat.
He peels the banana and crinkles his nose, but chews anyway. “You ever gonna tell me what you were trying to find in Lachlan’s office?”
I find a clean mug and pour the rest of the coffee into it. I swirl the dark liquid around in my mug and watch the bubbles ride around the edge of the cup. “Still deciding what I imagined and what was real, and still trying to piece together what I don’t remember.”
“You really don’t remember what happened?”
“No, I really don’t.”
“That bruise is generous. Glad it didn’t happen to your head or you’d probably be in the news.” He speaks with his mouth full, but raises his other hand to cover his lips.
“Still a chance.”
Jaeger stops chewing. “Don’t joke like that.” His stern eyes melt into a smile.
“Well, who knows what’s gonna happen.”
“I don’t want you to be the punchline. Can’t mess up that pretty face of yours.”
I huff a quiet chuckle and shake my head. “That your professional medical opinion again?”
He shrugs, then licks a peak of yogurt off of his spoon. “That– and I like looking at you.”
I raise my mug to hide how flattered I am. “Guess I’ll try not to get concussed then.”
“Good luck, wrestler. But I'd have to keep you in my hospital bed, then.”
“Not sure that would be much safer.”
“Depends on what you think I’m dangerous for.”
A natural silence falls into the room until footsteps begin down the staircase. Lachlan rounds its curve with his hand on the railing, Reuben follows a few paces behind. Lachlan’s gaze flicks briefly to me, then down to my side, and back up to me. Jaeger stiffens ever so slightly and leans away.
“Morning, sunshines,” Lachlan says coldly as waltzes around the counter to the fridge. “Sleep well?”
“Very,” Jaeger replies.
Reuben trails in a few seconds later and leans against the counter then looks behind him at the empty carafe on the counter. “More?”
“Sure,” I say.
Reuben walks over and scoops the grounds messily with a stained tablespoon. Lachlan retrieves something green-grey in a blender bottle. Chunks float around as he shakes it. I nearly gag. Lachlan leans on the counter across from Jaeger, fingers working to remove the cap from his bottle. He looks down at it, sloshing it around and sipping.
“You look like you got trampled,” he mentions.
“Feels about the same now, too.”
“I haven’t figured out anything else. I’m not sure I will. There’s too little to point to.” Everything that falls out of Lachlan’s mouth sounds like business. It’s bland and short, and concise, and it doesn’t hold any weight unless he’s being mean.
“Figures,” I sigh. “But I didn’t expect you to. You don’t exactly strike me as someone who’d nurture enough to do that.” My words are pointed.
Lachlan tilts his head, letting out a flat scoff through his nose. “I’m not here to nurture. I’m here to keep things from falling apart.”
“Well,” Jaeger mutters with a sly smile on his lips, “you’re doing a hell of a job.”
“I’m doing what I can to keep the men in this house protected.” Lachlan’s voice is icy, but the words roll off his tongue like honey. His gaze pushes past my eyes like he can point out each thought in my head. I finish my coffee in a deep swig and stand to put my mug in the sink. I brush by Lachlan ever so slightly, his massive body twitching instinctively.
“It’s kinda rocky right now which is weird as fuck for summer, but I’m working with it.” At least Lachlan seems honest now.
I take a slow breath from behind him, trying to decode his press release. “Working with it?" I snip. "Or just keeping it from falling apart."
Lachlan turns on his heels and stares me down. “Doesn’t matter how I say it, it’s the same job. And unfortunately that extends to someone who doesn’t even have a right to be stepping around these floors, and especially not on others’ toes.” His eyes narrow. "I would have had my solution by now, but the best solution is unacceptable to Carter."
Carter walks in the front door. Jaeger laughs heartily at his convenience, his timing perfect. I stand my ground, but eventually tuck just enough to get back to my barstool. Carter pauses in the doorway with a duffel bag over his shoulder. He slowly drops his keys into the woven basket by the door.
“Speak of the devil,” Lachlan whispers.
“Did I miss something?”
Jaeger shrugs. “Nah, nothing fun.”
Carter frowns, but he bounds upstairs to his room. I follow him. Jaeger pushes away from the counter and sprawls out on the couch in the living area and sighs loudly. Carter’s shirtless by the time I get into his room. He sits on his bed and then falls back against his pillow.
“Where you been?” I ask him.
“With my brother.” Carter’s eyes open slowly to meet mine. He doesn’t move, just holds my gaze intently.
“Everything okay with him?” I don’t know why I care. I don’t know him.
“Yeah, we were just going over shit for the wrestling season last night at his and I got too drunk to drive home so I crashed there.” Maybe I do?
“Your brother’s on the team?”
“He’s your coach.”
I blink, processing that for a moment. “Your brother’s Coach?” I feel like a fucking idiot for not putting it together.
“You don’t have the same last name," I point out.
“His ‘last name’ is his middle name. He doesn’t feel like having the pressure of association with me or our family.”
I pause again. “So he’s the coach, but he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s related to you? That’s shitty.”
“No, no,” Carter corrects, “he doesn’t care. He just thinks it’s less pressure on us, and he’s right. He’s still very much my brother and public about it, and well, I don’t know if you’ve taken a good look at his face, but you can’t mistake it.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Yeah,” he smiles, “but it’s so cool.”
I nod. “That’s a lot of layers, though, right?”
“Yeah, but I feel like it helps slash the rumors of preferential treatment, you know? We’re like this–” he crosses his fingers, “but he’s just been so busy recently.”
“With wrestling?”
“Yeah, that’s a good chunk. Trying to lock down a woman I tried to convince him he’s too good for.”
“Ah.”
“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I didn’t want to scare you off more than I thought I had.”
“You don’t gotta apologize for that.”
He smiles and reaches his arms out towards me from his bed, beckoning with his hands– fingers curling and spreading in an open, repeated invitation. He stretches his back into an arch and lets out a long groan while his lips stay curled into a smile. “C’mere,” he finally coos.
I roll my eyes, but my body moves before my brain can catch up. There’s just something about the way he says it. The way his chin folds and the skin around his eyes wrinkles into a grin. I pad over and pile on top of him, between his arms. He locks them around me and rocks me gently.
His warmth settles around me like a blanket, steady and sure now. For a moment, the whole house fades, but it comes crashing back when my mind slips to Jaeger’s body for just a moment. I lean in until the quiet thump of his heart soothes me. His fingers begin to trace the same lazy pattern against my skin, down, up, around, pausing every so often.
The new week slides in almost unannounced. The routine of summer workouts have given me appreciable time to work on myself and find my way around campus. Time that I wouldn’t otherwise have with my parents pushing me to work full time most summers.
Carter remains tied to Reuben at practice. He swears shit isn’t awkward but Reuben always seems to steal his attention from me when he’s around, which ticks me off because he knows it makes me jealous. It’s good to see him, I had become pretty worried, but I knew a boy like him would be okay.
My movements themselves are stiff, but I can rely on my strength as we lean into more advanced sparring. Lorenzo matches me well, but he’s a lot fresher than I am. His body works smoothly, muscles rippling while we trade takedowns. He’s focused, strong but gentle. By the latter part of practice, my side feels like stone, and my breathing has labored significantly more than usual. My side has been bothering me, a lot. It wasn’t terrible the first day, but over the last few, a massive bruise spread deep into my skin and around my ribs. I have ignored the pain pretty well, but the pain just keeps building from each twist and impact.
“You okay?” he murmurs between rounds.
I nod. His brow furrows and he takes me down full strength like it’s easy.
“You’d be a lot stronger if you weren’t lying,” he whispers into my ear while he’s splayed out on top of me.
He doesn’t hop up off of me. He removes himself slowly and his eyes track the faint bruises around my armpits and wrist. Coach calls us in to end practice a bit early today, citing that he wanted to work on some lineups, even though we’re still months out before we need to get serious about shit.
Lorenzo catches me in the locker room, sitting at the bench in front of my locker like he’s waiting for me to admit something. He leans back against the lockers across from me with his arms crossed, eyes steady. His deep red hair is matted down by sweat.
“Do you wanna join me in the cold tubs?” His suggestion seems so basic. His gaze drops briefly to the edge of one of the bruises peeking out from under the sleeve of my shirt. “I’ll take silence as a yes, either way,” he mumbles quietly, pushing off of the lockers.
I follow him almost mindlessly. It’s too easy to accept such a simple offer, finally something without a catch. Lorenzo holds the door open for me, locking it behind him. He shrugs off his shirt and tosses it onto the ground. Lorenzo has his own bruises, yellowed and small. I slowly remove my shirt. Splotches of red, blue, deep purples dominate my side. Lorenzo looks over, and his eyes widen. I run my hand along the largest one, deep blue and black at the center, the discoloration spreading almost as wide as my fingers can reach. I pull my shorts and underwear off, revealing smaller bruises on my right thigh.
“Jesus,” he mutters. “Who did that to you?”
“I don’t know.”
He doesn’t press, but his entire body stills. His breathing stops. “You don’t just not know something like that.”
“I genuinely don’t remember anything that happened after the last time we were in here. It’s all blank.” Lorenzo lowers himself into the tub beside me. “That’s not nothing, though. Someone made that happen.” He shifts and dunks his head under for a moment. “I know you don’t trust anyone right now, but if you figure anything out… don’t keep it to yourself.” A pause. “Please.”
I nod, the cold of the tub slowly warping my senses. He leans back with his arms stretched along the rim, staring at the ceiling like he’s chasing a thought he doesn’t want to say out loud. He tilts his head up toward the ceiling, and closes his eyes. His breath calms and I find peace in his company for the time being.
The water begins to calm my skin as I let it wash over me, lapping at my neck and collarbone. I stare down at the water and watch the bruises distort underneath the ripples, looking more faded under the blueness of the water.
“I think someone wanted me to forget. There’s no way it’s just something that I can’t piece together.”
“Seems like it.”
“Where did your bruises come from?”
“Reuben, probably. We sparred together at one of the first practices and he went way too hard. Shouldn’t have let the weight difference slide.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s not the first time, either, but he’s put on a lot of muscle. He picks moments, makes shit look like an accident.”
“Why haven’t you said anything?”
“What would I even say? That the top dog of our team has a temper?” He gives a hollow laugh, quiet and bitter. “Coach loves him, everyone else on the team seems to have some weird form of stockholm syndrome and excuse him being a shitty person because 'once you get to know him, he's plenty nice. No one wants to hear that he’s dangerous.” He looks over. “If he did that to you, I’ll help you figure it out, because a bruise that deep looks like he was trying to kill.”
“I don’t know who did it, though. I have no clue, and I haven’t been around Reuben without anyone else.”
He nods. “Guys like him don’t need privacy, they just need opportunity and a good coverup.” His voice becomes more serious. “If you start to remember shit– anything, let me know. Don’t tell anyone else.”
“Okay,” I exhale. “I will.”
Lorenzo smiles slightly, then he closes his eyes again. After a minute or so, he springs up and out of the tub. I follow him out. He grabs a towel and begins drying off, but before I can grab my own, he’s in front of me. Without a word, he leans down and examines my naked body with his eyes, reaching a hand out slowly and tracing the bruise on my side with his fingers. I wince, but don’t pull back.
“Sorry, I just wanna see how deep it goes." I lift my arm and extend my body so he has a better view. He leans down slightly, entering a squat in front of me while his eyebrow knit together. I stand, not sure of what else to do. I can’t reach a towel to cover myself, but he doesn’t seem to care regardless. I begin to breathe unevenly while he applies more pressure on my side. It wasn’t bothering me a ton at practice, but now that it’s all I can focus on, sharp pain pushes through my body.
My muscles twitch, and finally he retracts slightly. “Does it hurt this much all the time?”
I shake my head slightly, struggling to pull in a breath. “No. Just… now.” It’s weird, but it’s true.
“You need to get it checked out.”
“No, I can’t deal with that right now.”
“What?” His voice stays calm but it’s laced with a hint of disbelief.
“If I have to take a break from wrestling, I’m not gonna do that.”
He wraps his towel around his waist and tells me to grab one. “Come on, we’re gonna go see if Coach will take a look at it.”
I hesitate, but it doesn’t look like Lorenzo is gonna bargain with me on this. I hold my towel fast with my fist instead of bothering to tie it as we walk upstairs. I shiver with my bare feet against the tile, but Lorenzo decided that it was urgent enough to get a second opinion immediately, and, well, I trust him. His concern has grown like he didn’t quite register how dark the bruises were in my skin.
The pain has become less tipped, now it’s back to the dull ache that it has been for the past few days. Coach’s door is cracked open, letting a sliver of the harsh fluorescence slip into his office. Lorenzo knocks once and pushes it open. Coach is at his desk juggling a clipboard, documents, and his laptop. Coach is at his desk, the light from the hallway creating sharp lines on his rough, but still young face. He looks up, eyebrows knitted as he sees the two of us standing in front of him with nothing but towels around our waists.
“Something wrong?”
Lorenzo steps out of the way and gestures towards my side. Coach’s eyes land on my face and then down to my side, sharp and assessing. “Damn, man.” He slides out from his desk and tells me to step closer.
Coach crouches down to one knee and begins to prod at my side. His touch is rougher, less cautious. I flinch as he presses around the area.
“I’m gonna see if I can get the trainer in here.” Coach sighs and rises to his full height, rubbing the back of his neck.
I feel frustrated by the possible inconvenience, my legs tensing like a child about to break down because they didn’t get what they wanted. I just want to be in bed, and I just want to practice and work on my development without literally everyone feeling the need to medically assess my bruise.
Coach grabs his phone from under the mess on his desk and taps out a quick message. “You’re lucky Lorenzo brought you in, we need to see if there’s anything extra going on underneath.”
“I feel fine.”
“You might feel fine now, but if you tweak your body wrong when it’s still reeling, you might fuck yourself.”
It only takes but a few minutes for the trainer to arrive. Coach nods over to me, and without a word he leads us both down the hallway to another room. Coach lags behind to grab his glasses.
The trainer flicks the lights on and they coat the room in a cold wash of bright light. He gestures me up to a padded table, and I lay down. He takes a few notes and pulls on a pair of black gloves. They squeak in protest against his sweaty hands.
“Do you have any other bruises?” the trainer asks.
“On my thighs, yeah.”
“Do you mind if I–” he points at my towel, and I hesitate but nod, heat creeping up my neck.
The trainer removes my towel and leans in close, tilting my thigh towards him so he can see the extent of the bruising there. He presses hard, and I grunt, not necessarily from the pain but from his unexpected force.
He hums, neither apologetic nor harsh. “Some of this looks older, but the major ones– they’re all pretty fresh.” He speaks more to Coach than he does to me. “What’s the story?”
“I don’t remember,” I admit.
He stops, hands still pressing in the same spot. “You don’t remember,” he mumbles.
“What do you mean you don’t remember, Cameron?” Coach interjects.
I shrug from the table, my eyes locked on the ceiling. “I can’t piece it together. I’ve been trying.”
“You have a memory gap and you didn’t go to the hospital immediately?”
“I don’t know– my head don’t hurt, I just, don’t remember it.”
Coach exhales hard through his nose, pacing a short line but keeping his eyes locked on my side.
“I’m gonna go ahead and do a concussion screening for ya,” the trainer says.
I stand and wrap my towel around my waist again. He starts with a list of words and tells me to remember them, then he directs me to walk on my toes, heels, in a line. Feels like a sobriety test, but I’m not drunk. I answer sharp, my voice not faltering.
“No obvious sign of concussion” He turns back to Coach. “Is there anything at practice that could have caused this?”
“Absolutely not, we’ve barely begun sparring. Nothing rowdy, none of my boys have been injured.”
The trainer scribbles again.
“If I could tell you, I would,” I pipe, growing slightly impatient by them ignoring what I’ve been trying to tell them.
“We’re not trying to accuse you, Cameron,” Coach tries to diffuse me a bit. “We’re just trying to figure out what we can do– and if there’s something else that we need to look into.”
I shake my head. “I’m fine. I wrestled fine today.”
“I can’t let you wrestle on this.”
The words make me woozy. It really shouldn’t be that big of a deal, but within the first few weeks that I have to establish myself, I’m already being pushed to the sideline.
“Coach, I’m fine,” I insist.
The trainer doesn’t even look up, and Coach tries to formulate a response that won’t piss me off more.
“Man, don’t put me out, I wanna wrestle.”
“Cameron, bud...” Coach starts, but his voice dies quickly, “dude, I get it. I don’t want to keep you out, bud, but your body needs to recover.”
“Coach, I can handle it. I handled it today.”
The trainer looks up. “Cameron, you’ve been through a lot. You need to be gracious to your body, even if your mind is sharp.”
I nod begrudgingly, dropping my shoulders as the trainer finishes by taking my vitals.
“You should be good in a couple of days so long as the bruising doesn’t deepen in color. Track it. It should spread and then begin to lighten and yellow. I don’t see anything wrong with your ribs, or spleen, and for that, you’re lucky.
“If you need anything from me, I’m here before and after practices for a bit, but you can also email me.” He hands me a slip of paper with information from my visit and with his phone number.
“Now, go easy on it. You can still be active but don’t do stuff that’s gonna engage your core too much, okay?”
I nod and walk out with Lorenzo, my lips curling themselves down into a slight frown. I hear them talking as we exit. Coach’s voice drops down to a whisper. I glance over at Lorenzo, who’s walking a few paces ahead.
“I’m fine, dude,” I mutter, mainly trying to reassure myself. If anything, I’m frustrated at Lorenzo but I know I can’t be.
“You need to rest.”
We walk back to the cold tubs to grab our things, and I leave to go back to the hotel. Carter calls.
“Yoooo. Where you at?”
“Still at the gym.”
“Why? You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
There’s a pause on the other end, like he wants to push a bit further, but he doesn’t.
“You should come over here when you’re done. I’ll pick you up.”
“I was just gonna go back over to the hotel.”
“Ah. Forgot about that,” he forces a chuckle.
“But that’s fine, I guess.”
“Cool, I’ll text you when I’m there. Bring your things, I wanna have you back in my bed.”
I cringe, but don’t stand my ground. “Sure.”
“Alright. Be there soon.”
I walk quickly back to the hotel, and I go up to my room to pack up my things and lug myself down to the lobby and check out. Carter pulls up in his truck and my body jerks, sending a shot of pain through my side.
I toss my bag into the back seat of Carter’s truck and he helps me with my suitcase. A constant grin paints his face almost robotically. He keeps eyeing me, staring me up and down like I’m something shiny. I try to ignore the way his gaze lingers on me, but it doesn’t go unappreciated. I slide into the truck more labored than I have before, the high seat doesn’t help me.
“Alright,” his stare has softened. “You good?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I sigh, “sore.”
He pulls off and drives me home in silence. We arrive, and I head up to his room immediately. He leans in and kisses me, his hands pressing firmly into me. I whimper into his mouth from the torque of his strong touch, the sudden pressure making my side shout back at me. He pulls away immediately, his eyes widening.
His eyes linger at my side, but I hadn’t shown him where my bruise was. “What’s going on?” He lifts the hem of my shirt and retracts just as fast.
“Fuck, Cameron. What happened?”
“I don’t remember, Carter.”
Carter shakes his head, jaw tightening. "How, Cameron? I didn’t realize it was this bad. I’m sorry, I didn’t.”
I swallow hard, suddenly unsure of everything. “Coach told me it would be fine and that I need rest.”
“If he says you’ll be okay, then that eases my mind a bit.”
He brushes his thumb against my arm, hesitant. “Listen, get some rest, okay?” He sits me down on the bed and kisses me. “And don’t sleep on that side.” He walks slowly to the door and turns. “I care about you,” he utters. Then he’s gone, and I’m left to lay on sheets that smell so sweetly of him. His footsteps echo until they are nothing more than quiet taps on the stairs.
I wake up several hours later to the deep blue of the evening light stealing the rest of the day. I blink and wipe my eyes. I stretch my arms slowly over my head, wincing as I curl from side to side. I pull myself out of bed, and brush over the comforter so it doesn’t look so messy. The hardwood feels cool against my soles. I make my way downstairs, but the house feels completely empty. I pause at the bottom of the stairs and tap the banister. My eyes wander across the walls and then I go to look for Carter’s keys, but they’re not there. I text him.
Where’d you go
It’s weird for him to leave me somewhere I don’t really have much to do. I take my time to explore the rest of the house, stumbling into closets upon closets, a maze of rooms and back to Lachlan’s office. I walk upstairs and tour each room, most are lightly decorated with things important enough to bring with you to college but not important enough to take back home. Plenty of flags on walls, some rooms cluttered even in their emptiness. I turn the corner and nearly run into Jaeger.
He squints at me, he’s shirtless, of course, earbuds around his neck. “Caught you poking around again, huh?” he smiles.
“Didn’t know anyone else was here.”
“I live here,” he grins, a little bit crooked, too charming to be fully innocent. “Carter didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
He chuckles. “Cute.”
“Ohhh.”
Jaeger leans against the doorframe while I take a step back. “So what’re y’looking for this time?”
“Nothing, this time, I just got bored.”
“Mm.” He lifts an eyebrow. “So you’re not looking for Carter’s dirty laundry or something.”
I laugh under my breath. “Nah.”
“Well, shoot. Was hoping you’d tell me where I might find it.”
The air falls flat for a moment. “Where’s Carter?” I redirect.
Jaeger stretches very deliberately, activating damn near every muscle in his body. “Took off with Reuben and Lachlan a bit ago. Said something, but I wasn’t listening.” He feigns surprise.
“He didn’t tell his boy?”
“Nope.”
“Interesting.” He pushes off the doorframe. “Well you wanna do something or are you gonna keep haunting the halls like a ghost with commitment issues?”
“I’ll haunt the kitchen maybe.”
Jaeger gestures grandly down the hall. “Be my guest. Just don’t steal my oat milk or we’ll have a problem.” He rubs his stomach theatrically and shakes his head. “Can’t take the real stuff.”
I follow him through the hallway and down to the kitchen, plopping into the same barstool that I sat in when Carter cooked for me. He prowls through the fridge and pulls out assortments of things, including open beers that have sat flat for weeks probably.
“You always this generous?”
“Only when I’m trying to impress Carter’s favorites.” He turns and takes a smiling bite out of a sandwich. I watch Jaeger’s jaw churn while he sprawls against the counter. “He’s picky, you know. Doesn’t bring boys around much, so when he does it intrigues me. Must be a special guy.”
“I wish.”
“Modesty is cute, but it isn’t fun.” He traces his fingers along the grooves in the marble. “But, naw. He’s not quite the same guy around you. He changes himself to try to be a man he thinks you’d want.”
I lean in and cross my arms on the counter. “And what version is that?”
“The one that doesn’t fuck everything up.”
“Well, he’s not doing a very good job at amending it.”
“I’d assume not,” Jaeger says, slow and sly. “His awkwardness kinda catches you off guard, doesn’t it? He’s not much more than a meshwork of every person he’s met. Not in the way that people change who you are, but he learns from how others act and uses what he considers useful. He’s practically not even a human, just… mush.”
I snort, half-laughing, half-shocked. “Mush?”
Jaeger shrugs and he tosses the last bite of his sandwich into the trash. “But he’s a good guy. You can’t fault him there. He’s just not all that good at being himself.”
“I guess I could have seen that.”
Jaeger leans back, taking a long breath and letting it go slowly under pressure. “He’ll figure it out, but don’t let him use you to do that.”
“Don’t let him use me?”
“He doesn’t mean to, it’s just how he is.”
I want him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. I watch him closely, but he just taps his fingers, gaze growing more distant into the night percolating through the windows.
“Just don’t try to do the fixing.” Jaeger rounds the counter to where I’m standing, putting his tan hand on mine. I freeze. Jaeger wraps himself behind me. “But, no reason to get too attached to anyone in particular, yet, is there?” I feel the weight of Jaeger in all of his looks, his soft eyes against my neck. God, he’s sexy.
He holds position for a moment, just long enough for me to feel the heat of his breath gently rustling the hairs on my neck. He runs his hand up my forearm, pushing down against my skin with his thin fingertips.
“You know,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth. “I wanted to fuck you on Lachlan’s desk, but that would have been disrespectful.” His quiet laugh returns.
I’m not quite sure how to respond, my mind reeling from Jaeger taking control of my space so easily. He kisses my neck like he did in Lachlan’s office, but he pulls away quickly this time. His phone buzzes, and air rushes in to fill the space he left.
“Hey, broski,” Jaeger answers, his tone light. His hand drops from my arm and he begins walking circles in the foyer.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
He listens for a moment and rocks back from foot to foot. “Yeah, man I was just with a friend.” He glances at me briefly and flashes a smile.
“Yeah, don’t worry, man. I told you not to worry about it before, didn’t I? You think I’m gonna let him get all fucked up, too?” He laughs and rubs his forehead.
“He’s not ready for that. You know how it goes, one thing leads to another and suddenly we’re all being pulled into the same shit. Just keep your shit lowkey for now, aight?”
I catch the shift in his tone, and I can’t help but notice how much his voice shifts when he’s focused.
“Yeah, no, yeah.” He looks up at the ceiling and pretends to strangle himself, then smiles and reorients his attention again. “I’ll deal with it, just give me a few hours.”
Another pause, longer. His forehead creases. “We can talk to him when I see him, okay?”
He hangs up and looks back at me. “I’ll be back in a bit. If you find something interesting on your house tour let me know,” he jokes.
I lurk and try to make myself comfortable around the house for what feels like an immense amount of time. I hear voices rumble outside, then the front door creaks open slowly. I freeze mid-step into the foyer, and Jaeger backs into the house.
