“Sebastian, wake up.”
His full name, in Alex’s captain-voice, roused Bas from sleep. Peeling his face off the wooden dining table, Bas stared up, into Alex’s dark, assessing eyes.
“So this is where you’re hiding now?”
The academy’s high-ceilinged mess hall was as good a place as any. The dining area was mostly deserted until evening, and today, owing to their team dinner out, the kitchen staff were also absent. He’d had an hour to kill before they left for dinner, and he hadn’t felt like socializing in the lounge or taking a walk outside in the ninety-degree heat. But he’d needed to get out of the room to give Jacob privacy and to save what was left of his good intentions.
The image of Jacob this afternoon, fresh from the shower, flashed behind his eyes again, and on its heels, blinding panic. For a split second, Bas feared his drawing of the memory, another reason he’d avoided the lounge, was displayed on his tablet screen for anyone to see. Including Alex.
A quick glance down and Bas sagged with relief. He’d turned the device over, hiding today’s sketch and the others. The one of Jacob’s lust-wrecked face in the tattoo parlor mirror, every detail Bas could remember from that night etched into his digital likeness. The one of Jacob backed against the alley wall outside Martin’s, eyes pleading and teeth digging into his full bottom lip. The one from today, Jacob’s Longhorn tattoo the center of a profile sketch, water sluicing down his muscled torso and disappearing beneath the low-slung towel.
Yeah, he was hiding—too many things to count, the number growing by the day. “It’s quiet in here,” he claimed instead.
“You have a room to sleep in.”
“Jacob was on the phone with his family. Wanted to give him some privacy.”
Alex slid into the chair next to him. “That also why you slept in the lounge last night?”
Bas raised a brow, wanting to know who’d ratted him out.
“Kevin told me.”
“Fell asleep sketching,” Bas covered. “Everything’s chill, Cap.”
Alex braced his forearms on the table, glaring at him sideways. “I can’t tell if you’re too chill or less chill than I’ve ever seen you.”
Maybe Bas shouldn’t have answered at all. He hated lying to his best friend; he hated adding to his burdens more.
“I’m gonna go with the latter,” Alex said when he didn’t respond. “You want to tell me why?”
While he couldn’t give Alex that truth, he could give him another—the truth about another wrong decision that’d been troubling him. “I fucked up with the Martin’s idea.” The team was jittery as hell, and the night out at Martin’s had compounded their problems, not solved any.
“No, you didn’t,” Alex said. “If we hadn’t gone out that night, the same breakdown would have happened after opening ceremonies instead. You were right. Like Coach said, better to get it out of our systems now.”
Bas reclined in his chair, stretching out his legs and lacing his hands behind his head. “It seems worse than last time.” And last time had been a fucking train wreck. “I didn’t think that was possible.”
“Me either.” Alex’s chuckle sounded more helpless than amused. “But this team’s more talented. We didn’t have the potential to win as many medals four years ago.”
“You saying we’re shining the spotlight brighter on ourselves?”
“That, plus the Ryan situation.”
“And the Dane situation.”
Alex leaned back, matching Bas’s posture, his gaze drifting above to where his and Dane’s room was. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Alex’s voice had gone tight, and some of Bas’s earlier unease returned, now on behalf of his friend. “Is everything okay between you two? LA still on the table?”
“We’re fine, and yes,” Alex said, righting his gaze. “But we’re likely to hit a speed bump next week. He’s been ignoring his parents’ calls.”
“A lot of them?”
Alex cringed. “More than a few.”
Dane’s parents hadn’t yet accepted that their golden goose had learned to use its wings and busted out of their conservative cage, taking all the sponsorship dollars with him. They’d thought his coming out as gay would cause Dane to lose sponsors, as well as tarnish the family’s conservative reputation. In fact, he’d gained more sponsors, and Bas’s mother, a high-powered LA attorney, was in the process of making sure only Dane’s name was on those new contracts. And to hell with the family’s reputation; maybe his parents’ was tarnished, but Dane’s was shining brighter than ever.
“They gonna cause trouble?” Bas asked.
“Likely,” Alex replied. “They’re en route to Madrid.”
To force a confrontation, no doubt. Bas wished he was surprised, but from what he’d seen himself, and from what he’d heard from his mother, pushback was expected. He was more surprised they hadn’t shown up already.
“Mom’s gonna be in Madrid,” Bas said. “I’ll text her, put her on alert. We were expecting this. She’ll be prepared.”
“I know she will,” Alex said, a smile turning up one corner of his mouth. “She’s the scariest lawyer I know.”
“She’d be pleased to hear it.” Especially since she’d had to fight tooth and nail to get where she was today. Bas nudged his friend’s shoulder. “Listen, Cap. No matter what, we’ve all got your backs. Both of you.”
“Thank you,” Alex said. “I’m glad we’re both here again, that you’re my second. Wouldn’t want to do this with anybody else.”
“And we’re gonna do it this time. We’re gonna win the gold.”
Alex captured Bas’s raised hand in a clasp. “Fuck yeah, we are.”
Crammed together around long alfresco farm tables, the men’s and women’s swim teams helped themselves to platters of local delicacies and flasks of wine, drowning the past two days of rough practice in food and booze. A heuriger, the Viennese called it: a beer garden with wine, as far as Bas could tell. He liked the beer version better.
With travel tomorrow and opening ceremonies in the evening, the coaches had prebooked this last hoorah in their international training city. What was supposed to be a celebration was more a commiseration. Maybe that’s what they needed. To not think about the past couple of days or the week ahead. Just enjoy this night, the here and now.
Sensing eyes on him, Bas lifted his gaze, eyes clashing with a pair of intense green ones at the far end of the table. Bas should look away, but he’d missed Jacob’s regard and the connection between them. Flaring to life again, that connection simmered in Bas’s chest, heating more as one corner of Jacob’s mouth hitched. Bas had missed that smile too. But before it could bloom full, Coach Hartl stood at the head of his table and tapped his glass.
“I’m not gonna sugarcoat things,” he said, once the chatter had quieted. “It’s been a rough couple of days, but that’s why we do international training. Get you used to being away—” he waved at the spread on the table in front of him “—and to the strange food.”
“Come on, Coach,” Sean said. “It’s basically ham-and-cheese everything.”
“Still can’t pronounce it.” Coach’s struggles with German had been one of the few constant sources of amusement this week. “Good,” Coach said over their laughter. “Ham it up, even if it is at my expense. That’s what you fools need, because this only gets tougher from here. Opening ceremony tomorrow will be like nothing you’ve ever seen, but come Monday, you’re in the pool against the best in the world.”
“Not sure this is helping, Coach,” Alex called out from beside Bas.
“Sure it is!” Coach Albert said, rising next to Hartl. “The rest of the world is gunning for us because they know we’re the best.” Her dark brown eyes swept the tables, lighting on each swimmer. “Aren’t you? Who’s the best?”
Fists on tables and chants of “U-S-A” rose up, starting at the coaches’ table and spreading to the others, eventually loud enough for the entire hillside wine district to hear.
“That’s right!” Hartl shouted. “You get this out of your systems. Have fun tonight and tomorrow, then we go to work. Let’s win some medals!”
Cheers and toasts continued as teammates dug in to second helpings, the mood among them improving. Until Leah’s raised voice echoed from the far end of the table. “You’re what?” Jacob’s phone, in its burnt-orange case, slipped out of her hand and clattered onto the table. Leah recoiled from it, and Jacob, like she’d been bitten. “You’re like the rest of them?”
Jacob turned fifteen shades of red as everyone’s attention swung their direction. Leah’s, however, shifted from Jacob, to Dane across the table, then to Bas and Alex.
“Fuck,” Bas cursed. He had a pretty good idea what the anger was about, having been on the receiving end himself a time or ten.
He pushed to his feet, intending to intervene, but Alex grabbed his wrist, tugging him back down. “You’ll only draw more attention. Dane’s on it.”
Beside Jacob, Big Red had leaned half across the table, a placating hand raised as he spoke too low to be overheard. After another minute, Jacob and Leah stood and moved their argument into the main winery building, the heavy wooden door banging shut behind them.
Straightening, Dane snatched up Jacob’s phone and waved off the scene with his disarming smile. “Nothing to see here,” he said. “And why aren’t you fools eating?”
The spot-on impersonation of Coach drew raucous laughter and eased the tension that had fallen over the crowd. As the team tucked back into the meal, Dane strolled between the tables to where Alex was angled toward Bas. Stopping behind his boyfriend, Dane tapped the back of Alex’s shoulder, ordering “Scoot.”
Alex slid forward toward Bas, making enough room for Dane to straddle the bench behind him. “What the hell was that about?” Alex asked.
Dane snaked an arm around his waist, Jacob’s phone faceup between the three of them. “Pup was showing her pictures of UT, and she swiped through to this one.” Displayed on screen was a picture of Jacob kissing an attractive young man on the cheek. Playful, from a UT basketball game looked like, and definitely flirty. Bas swiped the screen. Texas to the left. More pictures of Jacob and the mystery man to the right.
“Boyfriend?” Bas asked, dreading the answer more than he should. Jacob had never mentioned anyone special back home, and surely if there had been someone, he would have visited when they were in San Antonio.
“Some guy he briefly dated last year,” Dane answered.
“But?” Alex followed up, conveniently covering Bas’s relieved sigh.
“Leah had no idea he was bi,” Dane said. “Was none too happy about it.”
Bas rewound to the first time he’d told a girl that Christian Bale was on his freebie-five list too. They hadn’t dated much longer, and she hadn’t been the last, of the men or women, who didn’t get it. By the way Leah came storming back out of the winery, Bas guessed she didn’t get it either. She bypassed her original seat and squeezed in with her girl posse at the other table, their heads diving together. A few whispered words from Leah, and they all turned to glare at Bas, Alex, and Dane.
“Fucking hell,” Bas muttered, at the same time Alex ordered, “Damage control.” Pocketing Jacob’s phone, Bas stood, Alex right after him.
“I’ll deal with Leah,” Alex said. “You got Jacob?” Bas nodded and turned on his heel. “Keep me posted,” Alex called behind him.
Charging inside the winery, Bas startled at the sudden blast of AC, a dramatic shift from the humid air outside. Rubbing his goose-bumped arms, he looked around for Jacob but didn’t see his Chia Pet head anywhere. “Which way did the guy go?” he asked the host. “Tall, buzz cut, tattoo here,” he said, tapping his upper arm where Jacob’s ink peeked out from beneath his polo sleeve.
The host pointed toward the glass front door. “Down the hill toward town, I think.”
Hurrying out, Bas was halfway down the hill before he spotted Jacob, the pup’s rangy form disappearing around a shadowed street corner.
“Pup!” Bas cautiously hustled down the hill. Cobblestone was a recipe for broken bones, of which they’d had enough already. Jacob, however, didn’t seem to care, moving at a faster clip. By the time Bas turned the same corner, Jacob was gone.
A car horn blared a street over.
Bas’s thoughts careened toward his worst nightmares. Risking broken bones, he ran flat out to the end of the street and hung a left. Then nearly lost his dinner. Up ahead, Jacob wove unsteadily on the curb, arms flailing as he wiped angrily at his face. On these narrow streets, he was a side-view mirror away from a crushed hand, or an uneven stone away from far worse.
“Jacob!” he hollered, heart in his throat.
The younger man startled, his unbalanced turn setting off another chorus of car horns. Bas didn’t think, just acted. Darting forward, he wrapped an arm around Jacob’s waist and hauled him back.
Spitting mad, Jacob struggled in his hold. “Let go of me!”
“Hey now.” Bas dragged him into a covered shop entry and held him pressed against the darkened storefront. “Enough of that.”
“It’s always the same fucking thing.”
“What is?”
Jacob lifted his arms, as if to rail, then suddenly deflated, letting them collapse at his sides. “I mean, I haven’t been out that long, just a couple years, but I’ve always known. I didn’t think it’d be this hard, though. That it would doom me to dating hell, not that I wasn’t there already. They just don’t get it.”
Another page to Jacob’s story. One Bas knew the words to by rote, from his own miserable love life. He brushed his thumbs through the tear tracks on Jacob’s cheeks. “I know.”
“It’s not an either-or thing. It’s men and women,” Jacob said, blinking rapidly as more tears threatened.
“Jacob, I know,” Bas repeated. “I’ve been there. I’ve heard it from men and women too. Let me guess what she said. ‘You’re checking out the guys too?’ And I’m sure you’ve also heard, ‘So I have to compete with twice as many people for your attention?’”
“Like it’s some sort of fucking percentage. And the denominator isn’t even right when you include nonbinary and transgender people.” Jacob angrily wiped at his running nose, then dropped his head back against the storefront glass, a watery chuckle escaping. “God, I’m never gonna get laid at this rate.”
A barrage of images assaulted Bas, foremost of which was where that night in the tattoo parlor might have led to if he’d pushed. He hadn’t then, and he couldn’t now, no matter how tempting. “You’re only nineteen, Pup.”
“And still a virgin.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
Jacob righted his head and his tired eyes looked closer to forty than twenty. “It is when it’s another thing added to the mountain of not good enough. Something else the dorky kid can’t do right, on top of a shit week. Dad has a flashback. I fuck up at Martin’s, and you freeze me out.” Bas winced, but Jacob didn’t notice. “I suck in the pool. You can say it doesn’t matter, that it’s all fine, but it’s not. Hell, Terrence should be swimming with you guys, not me.”
“That’s something else we need to talk about,” Bas started, but Jacob rambled right over him.
“I just wanted to forget all of it, for one night. Before we got to Madrid and Leah realized how not cool I am. This was my last shot.”
Christ, did he have no idea what he was doing to Bas? Standing this close, this vulnerable, this beautiful, and offering up everything Bas had wanted the past three and a half weeks. But Bas couldn’t—wouldn’t—take advantage. Not when Jacob was this upset, and not when it was Leah on the pup’s mind. It was her affection—not Bas’s—he’d wanted. As much as it burned Bas’s gut, Leah was a safer bet for Jacob, if she came around. She didn’t have deserter stamped on her DNA like Bas did. He stepped back, out of Jacob’s space. “I can go talk to her,” he offered. “See if I can explain things.”
Jacob shot out a hand, grasping the front of Bas’s shirt and halting his retreat. “No,” he said, voice small yet sure. “We shouldn’t have to explain.”
No, they shouldn’t.
Bas did the only thing he could. He hauled Jacob in and held him tight. “You’re right,” he mumbled against the top of his head. “You shouldn’t have to explain or change, for anyone.”
Hands fisting in Bas’s shirt, Jacob finally let the sobs loose, his shoulders hitching as the dam broke. Face buried in his chest, Jacob hid from the world, seeking refuge in Bas’s arms.
Bas gladly provided it, cradling Jacob’s head and rubbing his other hand over Jacob’s back. “Let it out, Pup. It’s all right. I’ve got you.”
Like this, Bas would give him anything. Everything.