CHAPTER NINETEEN
BRIAN
Regular Season Week 18
Hardy is bouncingwith energy and determination as he walks toward the HR office. I trail behind him, hands in my pockets.
Today was our first day back at practice after our three days off. It’s also the first practice of our last week of the regular season. We mostly did weights and watched game tape today, but at 13-3 for the season, we’ve already clinched the division, and our last game of the season could decide if we take the conference—giving us extra time to prep and breathe before our first postseason game. The energy was frenetic today, and it’s obvious everyone is starting to look ahead to the postseason and the fight to make it to the Super Bowl.
Hardy has been upbeat and confident all day. That’s his usual nature, but he’s had an extra flair of it today.
A few of the guys joked that he must’ve gotten laid over the long weekend, and I had to completely turn away from him so we wouldn’t give anything away.
The whole point of this meeting is to make it official and by-the-book so we don’t have to worry about any fallout and can tell people whenever we decide we want to. Which knowing Hardy will be immediately. I’m always the more reserved one in that sense. Not that I ever want to hide my love for him, but I also don’t need to shout about it to everyone. I’ll do whatever makes him happy, though. Like always.
“Are you coming?” he calls from the doorway to the office suites.
I bite back a laugh. “Yeah. Keep your pants on.”
He frowns. “Don’t ever say that to me again.”
Now I really have to stifle a laugh. I can’t wait to get him pantsless. To finally have him in every way. But we have to do the tough thing first. Hardy doesn’t seem to think it’ll be tough, and maybe it’s just my cloudy nature assuming it won’t be easy, but it’s not like professional football is swarming with out queer players, let alone two on the same team who are in a relationship.
Legally, we’re completely above board, but they can throw around any reason they like to push one of us off the team. And it would likely be me. I’m good at my job, but Hardy and Mark together are a winning combination that they won’t readily get rid of.
As soon as we enter the front office area, the HR rep, Bianca, appears. She’s tall with long brown hair, rectangle black glasses, and a commanding look that makes it clear she won’t take anyone’s shit. Necessary for dealing with a bunch of boys obsessed with balls.
“Hardison. Are you ready for our very ambiguous chat?”
He purposely only mentioned himself when he requested this meeting with HR, Coach, and the GM because he didn’t want to risk word getting out.
“Yes.”
“Let’s go then,” she says, nodding toward her office.
He moves to follow her, and so do I, but she spins back around. “I know you two spend a lot of time together, but you don’t need to be here for this, Ackley.”
“Actually, he does,” Ryan says, voice surprisingly firm.
Her eyes move between the two of us. “Okay, then. Come on.” We follow her into the office, and she stares us down. “So, are you going to tell me why we’re here?”
He opens his mouth, and I’m not sure if I should expect him to wax poetic about how much he loves me or shout that he’s queer at the top of his lungs.
Before he can say anything, Head Coach Robbins and our GM, Chet Collins, walk in.
I can’t stand Chet. He gives me skeevy vibes in a way I can’t quite explain. He’s never actively said or done anything in front of me to make me question him, but I can’t deny that gut feeling. I’d rather have the team owner, Mike Brady, here. He’s only a few years older than us and a little green when it comes to owning a team, but he’s a good guy.
“Hardison.” Chet nods at him. “And Ackley.” His voice lifts in confusion.
“All right, spill it, Hardy. What’s going on? And why do you need Ackley here?” Coach says.
Hardy glances at me, then smoothly says, “I need to declare a relationship with another member of Bandits personnel.”
Bianca’s gaze softens slightly, though her brows knit together in confusion. She usually knows everything going on around here, but since we didn’t have our come-to-Jesus moment until a few days ago, there’s no way she could know this.
“With who?” she asks. “And why aren’t they… here?” Her eyes land on me, understanding growing in them.
Coach chuckles and runs a hand over his forehead. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters.
