Page 51 of Try Line Hearts
Lucas snorted before he could stop himself.
He changed quickly, folding his suit with habitual precision. Sleep clothes made everything feel more intimate—bare legs, no tie, no formal structure to hide in.
They did the usual pre-match dance: chargers, alarms, checking schedules, pretending they were calm by being efficient.
Eventually there was only the bed left to negotiate.
“You take the wall,” Eli said. “Safer from my wild flailing.”
Lucas hesitated, then nodded. “Fine.”
He slid under the duvet and lay stiff on his back, too aware of everything. Eli climbed in on the other side, the mattress dipping, distance suddenly a measurable thing.
Six inches. Maybe less.
Not that Lucas was counting.
He was absolutely counting.
They lay there, shoulders apart, breathing like it was a test.
After a minute Eli said, “You know you’re allowed to breathe when you lie down, right?”
“Iambreathing,” Lucas said.
“You’re holding your breath like we’re defending our line in the seventy-ninth,” Eli replied.
Lucas exhaled long and slow, just to prove him wrong.
Silence settled. Not strained. Waiting.
Eli shifted, forearm over his eyes. “So,” he said, voice casual but edged with truth, “last week we walked by a river and you called meperfect. Today you stared at your future by Gate 26. You want to talk about that, or should we jump straight to me making fun of your snoring?”
“I don’t snore,” Lucas said, grateful for the banter. Then, after a beat, honesty slipped through. “They had rings.”
Eli’s arm lowered. “What?”
“The men at the airport,” Lucas said quietly. “Matching.”
“Oh.” Eli turned his head on the pillow. “Yeah. I saw.”
Lucas stared at the ceiling. “They looked… normal.”
“They are normal,” Eli said. “That’s the point.”
“I know,” Lucas murmured, fingers curling in the sheets. “I just didn’t realize how much I wanted that until I saw it.”
There it was.
Eli didn’t pounce. Didn’t turn it into a confession he could catalogue. He just breathed, slow and steady, and said softly, “You’re allowed to want it.”
Lucas swallowed. “Am I? Because it feels like wanting that is asking for everything else to fall apart.”
“Your everything is dramatic,” Eli said gently. “Fans, sponsors, your mum, the Pope—”
“Don’t bring the Pope into this.”
“Sorry,” Eli said. “But I think he’s busy with other things. Pretty sure God is too—likely ambivalent toward us at best.”
