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I shrugged; that hadn’t seemed like a pertinent question to ask on any of the mortifying occasions the topic had come up.

“So they saw you... perform,” Carlos said. His grin made clear what he expected “perform” to encompass.

I gave a jerky nod of agreement.

“Damn, lil bro.” Brayden sounded positively impressed.

“I didn’t realize they were there until the end!” I could hear the edge of desperation in my voice; knew that the guys would likely notice it too.

“And we all know how impressive your endings are.” Brayden winked.

Jefferson threw a napkin at him. “Focus. Or behave. Or both, actually.”

“Luke made it sound like Coach really did want us to come. On the camping trip, I mean.” It was easier - weirder, but overall easier - to pull the conversation back to the unexpected invitation. Away from minor, uncomfortable details like the fact that both my coach and the man he was in a long-term relationship with had watched me jerk off in front of a room full of jeering men.

“But do you think he really, really wanted us to come, though?” Donny sounded skeptical. “He wasn’t just... being polite, or something?”

Brayden snorted. “Coach, polite?”

“There’s thinking, and there’s over-thinking, and the second only gets in the way of the first,” Jefferson said, with the cadence of a well-repeated quote. It was one of Coach’s own favorites.

That felt appropriate, somehow.

“So...” I looked around them, and the expressions of curiosity, amusement, and lingering confusion.

Brayden sat back, his arms crossed behind his head. Grin restored. “Fuck it, I love camping. I’m down.”

Donny shrugged. “I’ve never fished before, so that could be cool.”

“S’mores,” Carlos said, simply. It was another word that sounded particularly delightful - and delicious - the way he said it.

My eyes landed on Jefferson, finally. He was already staring at me.

“Would it be weird for you, lil bro? Your face is already firetruck-red just talking about what happened. Are you gonna be able to handle sitting across a campfire from them?”

I swallowed, trying to picture it. Between my tongue-tied embarrassment and Coach’s stiff, stern brusqueness, his boyfriend’s matter-of-fact amusement at the situation seemed all the more striking. Any man who could so readily take that in his stride was someone I wanted to know more about.

“I haven’t actually been camping before,” I admitted. “So I think this would be... good.”

Jefferson nodded, still watching my face. I was sure my dancing around the question hadn’t been lost on him; what remained to be seen was whether he’d call me out on it.

“Guess we’re going camping, then,” our team captain agreed.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“An all-wrestler vacation,” Clay murmured, thoughtfully. His eyes were glazed over.

Adam nudged me in the arm, amused. “What he’s picturing would probably break the warranty on your tent.”

I chuckled, as Clay smiled goofily at us both.

“Did you buy one in the end?”

Camping equipment had not been part of the “essentials” my parents had packed for me when I went away to college. Luckily my big bros were better supplied.

“No, I’m just going to share with someone,” I said, vaguely.

Adam and Clay exchanged a look.