The Star (Charleston Condors Book 1)

“SO YOU FIGURE OUT where you’re signing yet, bro?” Aidan asked as he and Landry sat down in their seats.

For reasons Landry Banks had never quite figured out, Aidan Flynn was his best friend. They’d been best friends since they’d met in college twelve years ago. He was just as much family as his own two brothers were. They’d made it onto the starting roster at Michigan, then onto the NFL Combine, and finally, they’d been both drafted into the NFL.

Aidan had been selected by the Toronto Thunder early in the first round, and he was still their very popular, very successful starting quarterback. Which, in Landry’s opinion, hadn’t helped his friend’s arrogance and occasionally annoying swagger in any way whatsoever. In Toronto, he was practically revered as a god. But still, even now, despite all his obnoxiousness, Landry loved him. There was so much good—so much loyalty and kindness—buried under Aidan’s brash exterior. Landry wished more people could see it.

But not today. Because Aidan knew very well Landry hadn’t decided yet if he was going to stay with the Bills or take one of the other offers he’d received—and yet Aidan had poked him about it anyway.

“No, which you know,” Landry said, elbowing his friend in the side. “God, you kinda suck.”

Aidan just grinned. “Hey, what’s that saying? You gotta make hay while the sun shines? You eliminate any of the teams that’ve offered for you yet?”

“I think…” Landry hesitated. This decision was all he’d thought about over the last few weeks. Over and over, round and round, all the pros and the cons. He was pretty sure Elliot, his agent, hated him because they’d had three conference calls and so many texts Landry couldn’t even dream of counting them all. That didn’t count all the ones he’d sent to Logan and Levi, his two brothers, who also played in the NFL. “I think I want to leave Buffalo, at least.”

“Really?” Aidan looked surprised.

“Yeah.” Landry was grateful to the team that had drafted him eight years ago, but he was ready to move on. Maybe move somewhere where it wasn’t negative eleventy-billion below and didn’t snow buckets every winter.

“Well, see, you made some progress,” Aidan teased. “So you gonna take the Falcons contract or the Condors?”

“The Falcons low-balled me, so probably not them, but…”

“The Condors are a garbage fire?”

Landry made a face. “That was last year. Supposedly it’s gonna be different this year. Totally different. I talked to Logan. You know he plays for Asa Dawson, who they even brought in to consult on the Condors’ rebuild. And I talked to the new owner. I think…it should be better. Honestly, I’m tempted to take the Condors’ deal. Their offer wasn’t as good as Buffalo, but…”

As usual, Aidan knew what he wasn’t saying. “But they’re closer to Miami.” Where Logan plays.

As much as Aidan pretended not to understand how close the Banks family was, there was a reason they were both here to watch Aidan’s little brother, Riley, in his debut today.

“Yep,” Landry said. “Charleston’s closer to Miami.” He was tired of being so far from his brothers. Charleston wasn’t necessarily close to Miami, but it sure was a hell of a lot closer than Buffalo had been.

Aidan waved out at the field, changing the subject. “You think the kid’s gonna play today?”

Landry rolled his eyes. I love my best friend. I really love my best friend. “First off, you shouldn’t call him the kid, you know that drives Riley nuts. And he’s what…twenty-four? Twenty-five?”

Aidan shrugged like he didn’t know. He knew.

“And,” Landry continued, “we’re here because he’s the starting quarterback. So yeah, he’s gonna play. I don’t know why I came all the way out here to Pittsburgh if he isn’t.”

“You came because I asked you to,” Aidan reminded him. “For moral support. And to help me convince Riley to give it up.”

Landry winced. “Maybe don’t phrase it that way, okay?”

The Pittsburgh XFL team had just taken the field—for many years, so many organizations had tried to get a second professional football league started, but none of them had lasted very long. This was just the newest iteration, and Landry hoped they succeeded where everyone else had failed because it was a real chance for players who hadn’t made NFL rosters to shine.

Riley Flynn could’ve been on a roster as a backup, but he’d chosen, stubbornly, to join the XFL because he wanted to play. Aidan had said it best when he’d called up Landry to invite him to Pittsburgh. “Nobody’s gonna take a shot on someone to start if he stands on the sideline the whole season, holdin’ a fucking clipboard, so that’s his big plan.”

That was true, though it wasn’t like NFL backups weren’t well paid. But Riley clearly didn’t give a shit about the money. He wanted to play. He wanted to grab everyone’s attention, and then he wanted an NFL team to sign him as a starter.

Landry gave him a lot of credit; he could’ve done exactly what Aidan wanted him to do and given up.

But he hadn’t.

“I just wish…damn it, I wish he was like five inches taller and like forty pounds heavier.” It was rare to detect any regret in Aidan’s voice, but Landry heard it now.

“Probably not as much as he does.” Landry didn’t know Riley all that well. He’d been “the kid” for as long as he’d known Aidan. Since he was so much younger than both of them, Landry barely noticed him when they’d met in college and gone home with his friend for the holidays. Then Landry and Aidan had been drafted to the NFL, and eventually, Riley had gone to college too, and there’d been no reason to connect with Aidan’s little brother.

But he did know Riley was undersized for a quarterback.

He’d had great stats in college, but everyone said it was the system, not the player, which had killed his draft stock. Then he’d sat on a practice squad for a year before finally deciding to take the job in the XFL.

Landry knew Aidan wasn’t very happy about it.

“I told him to come live with me in Toronto. There’s lots he could do for me there.”

Yeeaaaah.

Landry could imagine the last thing Riley ever wanted to do was go be a personal assistant to his superstar, hot-shot quarterback brother.

That would sting under normal circumstances, but when Riley wanted to be the star quarterback so badly himself?

Yeeaaaah.

“It’s a good thing you told me to meet you here,” Landry said, taking a long drink of his beer.

“Yeah, why?” Aidan was focused on the field in front of them. He was ninety-nine percent sure his friend was staring at his brother, out on the field, warming up.

Sure, he didn’t seem very big. But he didn’t seem that small either anymore. From what Landry could see, he was filling out his uniform these days.

“Because you are absolute shit at this,” Landry said.

“What?”

“You should be supporting him, not telling him to give up or come be your assistant.”

“He’s gonna get his ass kicked, get injured way too many times, and not be able to walk by the time he’s thirty-five. I am looking out for him. I know the job. It sucks a lot of the time.”

“And a lot of the time, it doesn’t.” Every time Landry had met Riley, he’d seemed to have a pretty damn good head on his shoulders. Of course, the last time they’d met had been…well, more than a few years ago. But surely that hadn’t changed. “He’s smart, he knows what he wants, and he knows the cost.”

“Do we ever really know the cost?” Aidan’s voice was wry.

Landry glanced over at him. That was a surprisingly introspective thing for Aidan to say.

“You okay?”

Aidan took a long drink of his beer. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just, you know…another year, another season.”

No doubt Aidan thought he’d brushed it off enough to fool Landry, but almost nobody had known him as long as Landry had.

Maybe one of his teammates or one of the acquaintances always clustering around Aidan would be fooled. But not Landry.

The game started.

It had been…well, years again…since Landry had watched Riley Flynn play.

From the first time he took the field, it was clear why he was taking this risk in the XFL.

He was incredibly dynamic, making plays happen out of thin air, pulling out great throws, and even making one or two first downs with his legs. He wasn’t fast, necessarily, but he was quick and exceptional at evading defenders trying to bring him down.

The Pittsburgh Defenders went all the way down the field, and Riley threw a beautiful little out pass to the tight end for a touchdown.

When he and Aidan finally sat back down after cheering and screaming their faces off, Aidan looked over at him.

“Don’t you say it, bro,” Aidan said. “Don’t you fucking say it.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Landry argued, but he was thinking it.

“I just want what’s best for him,” Aidan said. “And this isn’t it. Football isn’t it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause football’s treated you real bad,” Landry said, a healthy dose of sarcasm in his voice. “Why can’t Riley want a piece of that?”

“The kid doesn’t know what he wants,” Aidan said, and his tone sounded so dismissive. Like Riley actually was a kid.

But as the game continued, and Riley threw two more touchdowns—and one interception, which Landry winced at, and Aidan broke down in way too much detail for at least ten minutes—Landry couldn’t help but think that at least, at the very least, he deserved a shot.

But every time he tried to even gently check Aidan’s doom and gloom routine, he frowned more, so finally Landry gave up. Just enjoyed watching what he believed might be a star on the rise.

“Come on,” Aidan said, rising as the game clock ticked down to zero. “I have a feeling we’ll be welcome on the field. Let’s go find the kid.”

Landry rolled his eyes but naturally still trotted after him. That was twelve years of friendship for you. “I know this is going to come as a real shock but not everyone in the universe thinks you’re God’s gift to football.”

“What? I’m not?” Aidan mocked as they headed down the bleacher stairs towards the edge of the stadium. Unlike NFL stadiums, or even the larger collegiate stadiums, there was access to the field from the seating area. Guarded, of course, by security, but fans were gathered around them, clamoring for autographs and attention from the players.

It was annoying that, just as Aidan had predicted, the crowds parted for them.

Yes, Aidan was super recognizable. He was Aidan freaking Flynn. But it wasn’t like Landry didn’t get his own share of looks as they stopped in front of the security guard.

“Aidan Flynn,” Aidan said, flashing the guard one of those trademarked smiles. “Wondered if we could head down and say hi to my baby bro.”

Landry watched as awe washed over the man’s face.

He would be surprised if he hadn’t been seeing different versions of this for way too fucking long.

The problem was way too many people did, in fact, believe that Aidan was God’s gift to football.

Including Aidan himself.

“Oh yeah, sure, man,” the guard stuttered, standing aside and unlocking the gate, letting them down onto the field.

Landry was a little worried that Aidan’s first words to his brother were going to be either some version of the word kid, or a painfully accurate analysis of that interception he’d thrown in the second quarter, but thankfully, instead of either of those, Aidan must’ve dug down and found the good guy Landry knew was underneath all his bullshit. As Riley approached them, pulling off his helmet, Aidan pulled him into a big, tight hug.

Landry just had a split second between Riley’s helmet coming off and his head disappearing into Aidan’s shoulder to really see him again for the first time in years.

He was tan, and his hair was blonder than Landry expected—so much blonder than Landry could remember it being all those years ago, so much blonder than Aidan’s own hair, at least when he resisted the urge to put in highlights. Riley’s baby blue eyes were startlingly light, especially with all that eye black streaked underneath them. And then there was his face.

God, when had the kid gotten so fucking hot?

Landry was straight, but his two brothers were not, which he liked to tell people made him more enlightened. What it really meant was that he noticed attractive men more than he might normally.

And he was totally fucking noticing how insanely attractive Riley Flynn was.

It shouldn’t have been a shock.

After all, Aidan’s ego was not only a result of his prowess on a football field. Lots of people—probably too many people—thought he was good-looking. But the last time Landry could remember seeing Riley had been on draft night, seven years back, and he’d been what? Sixteen? Seventeen? Still growing into his frame and his face, and holy shit, both of those had happened in spades.

Aidan was all angsty about his viability as a quarterback, but while Riley didn’t have the inches in height, he was built, maybe not as tall as his brother but with shoulders just as wide. And his arms? Big and thick and corded with muscle that told Landry he definitely knew his way around a weight room.

Shit. I’m totally checking out Aidan’s little brother.

But Landry shook off the thought. He was straight. He was straight as the day was long, wasn’t he? Wouldn’t he know if he wasn’t? Both Logan and Levi were queer, so it wasn’t like he hadn’t considered it a handful of times. But he’d never once had his head turned by a guy like this.

He told himself it was because he just hadn’t seen Riley in so long, and he hadn’t expected him to look like this now.

That was all. It was just the surprise of seeing Riley again after so long.

Riley and Aidan broke apart.

Landry’s palms were sweating a little as he approached.

God, his eyes were even lighter blue up close, with little hints of green, like the most pristine water in the Caribbean. Did people even have eyes like that?

It’s just the eye black making them look lighter and…uh…well, something.

Fucking something, that was what it was.

“Hey, Landry,” Riley said directly, apparently having none of Landry’s problems meeting his eyes. “Been a long time.” He started to hold out his hand, and Landry, who was probably the most recognizable of his brothers, who all played in the NFL, and was therefore used to greeting people even under incredibly awkward circumstances, found himself hesitating.

He should really hug him, too, shouldn’t he?

This was the kid. His best friend’s little brother.

But he was also Riley, who was now twenty-four or twenty-five, and he’d just made Landry question—for a moment that had lasted far longer than he wanted to examine closely—his sexuality.

“Uh, hey,” Landry said. They shook, and Landry pulled him into a weird pseudo-hug.

For a second, he got the impression of a firm, calloused hand and then a much firmer, compact body.

Okay, maybe Riley wasn’t big, but every single inch of him was packed with strength, rippling with muscle.

Not a thought Landry needed in his brain right now.

Really, not ever, but definitely not with Aidan standing there, currently in the running for the Overprotective Brother of the Year award.

“Looked real good today,” Aidan said.

Riley shot his brother a glare like he’d offered criticism instead of praise. “Thanks. Don’t you dare add a but to that sentence.”

Aidan threw up his hands. “I didn’t!”

“I could see it in your eyes. You have the shittiest poker face in the world. Doesn’t he, Landry?” Casually, Riley slid his gaze right over to where Landry stood, awkward and sweating, trying to pretend that everything was okay.

Totally normal.

No big deal.

The thing was, Aidan’s normal poker face was actually pretty good. But when it came to his brother? Riley wasn’t wrong; it was total shit.

“I…uh…” God, Landry was not normally this tongue-tied. Aidan knew it because he glanced over at him.

“Tell him all the good stuff I said,” Aidan insisted.

Riley pulled his jersey out of his pants, and for a split second, Landry got a flash of chiseled abs, and his mind went white hot supernova. Jesus, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen hot guys before. He had. He definitely had, and had been informed, at length, about their hotness by his two brothers. He should be totally fucking immune to hotness. Then there were how many sets of abs he’d seen in locker rooms over the years. Way too many to count.

But these abs belonged to Riley Flynn, and apparently, that made all the difference.

“He said lots of good stuff.” Lots of shitty stuff, too, but Landry wasn’t going to tell Riley about that, not when he’d really played well.

Well enough that some NFL team, weak at the quarterback position, might take a chance on his enormous upside if he kept this up.

But keeping it up, that was the trick.

Every quarterback could have one stellar game. It was stringing together one great game after another. It was never letting the criticism get to you. It was forgetting every misstep you’d made the second after you made it and making that throw again, even though the last one you’d made had been intercepted.

“Don’t go into any detail or anything,” Riley teased, shooting Landry a fierce smile that probably decimated anyone in its vicinity on a regular basis.

“That first touchdown, it was really sweet.” On a regular day, Landry could’ve gone into detail about why it was so masterful, how he’d drawn off the safety with a glorious pump fake, and then tossed the ball with exactly the right velocity, even though it was a throw across his body. Or how he’d shrugged off two defenders like they were nothing right before he’d done all that.

It was a combination of skills that would have NFL scouts salivating over him.

But the salivating was short-circuiting his brain.

Guess you’re not the only one, Banks.

“You just liked it because I threw it to Ross, who’s a tight end,” Riley joked.

That was also true.

“You can’t even say anymore that tight ends are underrated,” Aidan said, elbowing him in the side. “Especially not tight ends like you.”

“Hey, in another life, twenty or thirty years ago, they wouldn’t have let me near the ball.”

Landry, hyperaware of Riley in a way he didn’t really want to be and definitely did not feel comfortable with, noticed as Riley’s eyes swept up and down his form. “Six foot five, built like a tank? Yeah, seriously,” he said.

Had Riley just checked him out? Or…

Landry still remembered a few years back when Aidan had called him freaking out because Riley was determined to come out of the closet as bisexual. “Can’t he just keep it to himself? He’s gonna make himself a target, and it’s not like he’s got an easy road ahead of him anyway…” Aidan had said frantically.

To someone else, it might have seemed like maybe Aidan was homophobic, but Landry knew he wasn’t. It had just been a slightly different version of Aidan Flynn, Overprotective Brother of the Century, and Landry had told him to stop worrying. Had reassured him in every way he could. Coming out hadn’t destroyed Sam Crawford’s chances or stopped him from winning not just one Super Bowl but a second, just a few months back. Hadn’t stopped Colin O’Connor or Spencer Evans. Or any of the many queer players on the Piranhas.

Hadn’t stopped either of his two brothers from being at the very top of the game or from being appreciated for their skill and their dedication.

When Riley had come out a few months later, Aidan had been the first one to post on social media in support.

Then, he’d been so proud of both of them. Riley for taking that step, and Aidan for swallowing his concerns and supporting him every step of the way. But now, Landry wished that was something he didn’t know about Aidan’s little brother.

Because yes, absolutely, Riley could’ve been checking him out.

Normally that would just be a thing that happened. But now, it was lighting him up in a way he didn’t understand.

“Hey,” Riley said. “Couple of the guys are going out after the game. You guys want to come with? Grab some dinner and a few drinks?”

Landry nearly rolled his eyes because when was Aidan not up to party?

Basically never.

“Yeah, sure, of course, we’d love to, right, Banks?”

Landry nodded. “Sure. Got nothing else goin’ on.”

Maybe he could even keep Aidan from detailing, a few drinks in, everything Riley had done wrong in the game.

Keeping that satisfied look in Riley’s eyes—the kind of look that said he’d done exactly what he’d set out to do today—shouldn’t have mattered to Landry. But it did. Especially when Aidan, no matter how well he meant, had come here to try to tell him he should pack it in.

But Landry had seen enough. He didn’t agree—not that Aidan would ever listen to him about it.

Riley Flynn had something, and he deserved his shot.

Riley wanted to kill his brother.

Not for showing up unexpectedly—Aidan hadn’t told him he was coming to his debut in Pittsburgh, but it hadn’t been difficult to anticipate he might—but for bringing Landry Banks with him.

Of course, Aidan had no idea about the horrible youthful crush he’d had on Landry. Riley would’ve rather died than tell him because Aidan never would’ve stopped teasing him about it. Or, even worse, been nice about it, reminding him every chance he got that Landry was straight, so his whole crush was pointless.

It was still fucking pointless, even if it wasn’t really a crush anymore.

It was…well, Riley thought, glancing over at where Landry stood near the edge of the dance floor, his handsome face thrown into shadow by the flashing lights, just plain appreciation for an incredibly hot guy.

Riley knew he’d grown into his own face, his own body. But he wasn’t like Landry, who was built like Thor and could even be Thor on his very best fucking day because he had shoulder-length blond hair and those penetrating honey-brown eyes to prove it.

He was gorgeous and didn’t even realize it. Or he did, and he just didn’t care.

AKA he had no idea what he’d always done—and apparently still did—to Riley’s insides.

Then there was the way he noticed Riley was standing alone and immediately walked over, no hesitation in his step whatsoever.

He’d always been nice that way. Even back in college, when he’d come home with Aidan once or twice, he’d always made sure to talk to Riley. Even though Riley had been a skinny, awkward thirteen-year-old kid.

Maybe inside, he was still that skinny, awkward kid with the most unfortunate crush in existence.

“Hey,” Landry said, dipping his head low so Riley could hear him over the pulsating thump of the bass. “You shouldn’t be over here frowning. Did Aidan say something to you?”

Great. The last thing he needed was two overprotective brothers.

Because he definitely did not think of Landry Banks as a brother.

“What would Aidan say?” Though he had a pretty good idea of what that might be. No doubt he’d get one of his brother’s infamous emails tomorrow, breaking down the few things he’d done right—and the many things he’d done wrong.

If he wanted to make it in the NFL even a fraction less than he did, he might tell Aidan to go fuck himself and delete the emails unread, but annoyingly, Aidan was actually really good at analyzing play. So he’d swallow his pride and read whatever he sent anyway.

Landry just shook his head, though. “You know your brother,” he said wryly.

Oh, he did.

“Actually,” Landry continued, “I thought you played really well today. Don’t listen to him, whatever he does say.”

“So you’re not going to tell me to quit, too?” Riley asked, grinning. He told himself the flare of interest he kept seeing in Landry’s golden brown gaze was wish fulfillment, but even if that was all it was, what would it hurt to flirt a little?

With two queer brothers, Landry was probably comfortable with most anything.

Besides, with the way he looked, he was probably beating people of every gender off with a stick.

“No, not even close,” Landry said steadily. “You’re good, and you know it. Or else you wouldn’t be doing this.”

Riley batted his eyes at him. He knew they were his best feature, and he wasn’t above using what he had to get what he wanted—that was definitely a Flynn trademark.

“Aw, you think I’m good,” he teased, nudging Landry’s bicep with his shoulder. “I’m touched.”

Landry smiled, and it transformed his face from merely handsome to breathtaking. “You aren’t what I expected,” he said. “I don’t even remember the last time we…”

“You’ve been listening to Aidan too much,” Riley said sagely. “And it was draft night, the night you and Aidan went in the first round.” He remembered that night so well because he’d been filled with undeniable joy for his brother—and also a fiery determination that someday that would be him.

Six years later, he hadn’t been drafted in the first round, like Aidan—or Landry—but he was still going to make his mark. He’d be the quarterback nobody expected, the one they’d written off, who proved them all wrong. The quarterback who proved all their theories and assessments were full of shit.

“God, has it really been that long?” Landry muttered, and then he tilted his bottle against his lips, and Riley absolutely did not feel his pulse stutter at the sight.

“Yeah,” Riley said.

Landry gazed down at him, and Riley just plain gave up on denial. His pulse was definitely racing. Maybe because it felt like Landry—Landry Banks—was finally looking at him like he’d dreamed about for so goddamn long.

Like he was really seeing him.

“I’m trying to figure out if you always looked like this. ‘Cause if you did, I’m sure my brothers would’ve both been driving me crazy trying to get your attention.”

Riley knew Landry had two younger brothers. How much younger? He wasn’t even sure.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Just the two of them?”

He knew Landry was straight; why was he playing with fire like this?

Because when Landry was looking at him with that kind of wonder in his eyes, it was difficult to believe it.

Landry didn’t say a word, though. Didn’t even try to deny it. Just stood there and stared at Riley.

Here was the thing: Riley knew he’d kicked ass today. He’d come to Pittsburgh to the XFL, hoping he might change some minds, and he’d started that process in a huge way. He’d need to follow through, but the truth was, he was flying high.

Feeling a little reckless, even.

So he leaned in a bit further, gazing up at Landry.

There’d been a hookup in college who’d told him once his eyes were devastating. He pulled on their full power now, barely refraining from fluttering his eyelashes. He could feel the heat of Landry right through his jeans as he shifted even closer and their thighs brushed together. God, this was like a combo of pretty much every gay porn he’d ever seen and all his teenage fantasies rolled into one crazy hot moment he didn’t know how to resist.

“I swear,” Landry said, his voice low and rough, “you didn’t…you weren’t…”

Riley felt him tremble.

Landry freaking Banks. Trembling.

“Probably not,” Riley admitted. Though the truth was, he hadn’t looked anything like this a few years back, the last time they’d seen each other.

He’d still had the same eyes, of course, and blond hair, but he’d been so scrawny. Hadn’t grown into himself or his confidence yet.

For an incredibly breathless second, they just looked at each other. Riley knew this wasn’t going to end in a kiss, but damnit, if Landry didn’t look like he might be considering it.

If he’d heard even a hint—even a solitary fucking rumor—that Landry wasn’t straight as an arrow, he’d have taken the shot.

But at the same time, he couldn’t quite look away because Landry was clearly just as into whatever this was.

“There you two are.”

Aidan’s voice was a bucketful of cold water on every single one of Riley’s hopes.

Goddamnit, couldn’t his brother have seen what was happening and stayed the fuck away? Given Landry even a moment longer to consider what he might want? Because Riley believed—or hoped—that if he’d had long enough, Landry might have decided the answer was him.

“Yeah.” Landry’s voice was gravelly. Rough. Took the bottle of beer from Aidan with a grateful smile.

“And your drink, your highness,” Aidan said, setting Riley’s drink down on the table next to him with a flourish. “Maybe next year you could stop drinking like my grandmother.”

“What is it?” Landry asked, and instead of waiting for Riley to answer, without an ounce of shame—because his drink of choice was delicious, okay?—he reached across Riley’s body, practically pinning him against the half-wall that surrounded the dance floor, and Riley wasn’t a saint.

He enjoyed every second of feeling Landry pressed up against him.

Almost missed Landry licking his lips. After taking a sip of his drink.

God, he was going to remember this night forever.

He was going to jerk off to fantasies of this night forever.

“Is that…cream soda?” Landry looked puzzled.

“Captain Morgan and ginger ale, like the good grandma Riley is,” Aidan teased.

Landry frowned. “My grandma doesn’t drink rum. She drinks like…gin and tonics and Bailey’s in her coffee. Besides, it’s good. It’s like…vanilla.” Even though they’d moved apart and were now standing at a respectable distance since Aidan’s arrival, there was an undeniable spark now when Landry gazed down at Riley.

Like he wondered if he’d taste like vanilla, too.

“I’ll take it, ‘cause at least you aren’t calling me the kid,” Riley said, rolling his eyes.

Truthfully, if Aidan didn’t give him shit, he’d wonder what was wrong with him.

His teasing was, of course, completely ridiculous, borderline insulting, proved he couldn’t identify a single emotion even if his career was on the line, and also, somehow, the way he showed Riley just how much he loved him.

That was his brother for you: a whole shit ton of contradictions.

“So,” Aidan said, “you given any more thought to coming to Toronto?”

Riley was still deciding if he was going to finally tell his brother to fuck off when, to his surprise, Landry answered for him.

“No,” he said. “He hasn’t. And he won’t.”

Riley raised an eyebrow. “I won’t?”

Landry met his gaze straight on, and something in the bottom of Riley’s stomach burned. “You won’t. You’re doing this. And doin’ a damn good job of it, too.”

“If he’s not a kid, then he doesn’t need you to defend him,” Aidan grumbled under his breath.

Riley knew it was going to take more than one good game to change his brother’s mind. In fact, it would sting, but he wouldn’t mind if Aidan never changed his mind about following in his footsteps.

As long as one NFL team did.

Riley knew what the prize was, and he just had to keep himself focused on that.

“Okay, I gotta go make the rounds, talk to the guys,” Riley said. After all, part of being QB1 was being the leader. He downed the rest of his drink, set it on the table, then, because he couldn’t help himself, he turned to Landry.

This time he didn’t hesitate, didn’t hold back—just went for it. Pressed his whole body against Landry’s as he hugged him. “Good defense is always appreciated,” he said under his breath so Aidan wouldn’t hear.

For a moment, he let himself linger. Landry wasn’t exactly pushing him away, either. But then he broke off and left because, if he stayed, he was going to do something he’d almost definitely regret later.

Something he’d really enjoy, that was for damn sure, but he’d come this far without discovering just how flexible Landry Banks’ sexuality was. He’d live without it.

What he couldn’t live without was the success under the floodlights of an NFL stadium. The success he’d craved for so damn long and up ’til now had been denied.

But, Riley thought as he walked away, he had a feeling everything was about to change.