Page 27 of Studs Up
This time, he bodied me off the ball and drove it up the field to Quinn.
“It’s under your name.” He said to me as he moved up the field, leaving me offsides with a swelling cock and a whole fuckton of nerves.
He wanted to meet in a nice hotel. It was likely he chose it because it was only two blocks away and not because it was expensive.
The game ended in a tie. The Guardians milled around for a few. Nolan chatted with Charlemagne and Marcel.
I walked around and thanked all of our fans by clapping and appreciating every time they showed up loud and proud. We had the best fans in the league.
Then I ducked out and went through all the post game rituals. A slow cooldown, a quick press conference with Alex, and then I showered.
After that, it was hard to take more time. While Guardians had been given the opportunity to go out and have dinner and meet up with friends, Nolan would be waiting in a hotel room for me.
It was a pretty unassuming building for a five-star hotel, but outside the front entrance, they flew an American flag and, right next to it, flapped a rainbow one. That was the only thing that got me through the door.
“I’m here to check in,” I swallowed. The woman smiled at me as I passed my driver’s license over. She tapped away on her computer for a few minutes, took a key card out, scanned it, and then passed my license back.
“Alright, Mr. Monroe,” she said. “Room 705, and the room has already been paid for.”
I took the card she slid across the counter and thanked her, hoping to god she didn’t put it together that I was meeting a man in a hotel room.
I stood outside the door and stared at the placard stating that I was indeed at room 705 and in the right place. Did I knock? Or did I just let myself in?
What awaited me in there?
I slid the card into the slot, and it clicked green. I pushed open the door, and there he was, standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed and his feet spread, looking angry and very on brand. Shit.
I let the door close behind me.
Nolan
Waiting was torture. He was late, and it was entirely possible he wouldn’t show up at all. In fact, as the minutes ticked by, I was sure of it.
I was confident that I wanted to do this. There were some questions I wanted answers to. Like, was my dick going to get hard if he showed up? Or was it a one off? When he kissed me, I hadn’t been with anyone in months. It could have been a reaction to being touched starved.
I paced for a while. The room was long enough to get several strides in before I turned around and paced back.
The electronic click of the lock stopped me in my tracks, and my heart leapt into my throat. I hadn’t been this nervous in, well, ever.
I crossed my arms, swallowed, and waited.
“You’re late.”
Damn, he looked good in those tight jeans, a pale blue button up shirt, and a navy canvas jacket. He knew how to dress for his body and I couldn’t stop staring. A fast fantasy of stripping him of his clothes made me leak a little, and I bit back a groan. Yeah, my dick was definitely getting hard.
“This wasn’t exactly a meeting I wanted to take.” He looked around nervously and only relaxed a measure when he saw we were alone.
“Then why did you show up?”
He slid his hands into the pockets of his pants. He took several heartbeats to answer. He wouldn’t look at me and found the mundane shit on the walls more interesting.
“To ask you not to tell anyone what happened.”
“Why would I?” I asked, confused. It’s pretty common knowledge that I don’t say shit unless I have to.
“Because anyone who’s anyone would love that little scoop,” he laughed empty-hearted. “Holden Monroe Kisses Man in Seedy Hotel, the fucking headline writes itself.”
I raised my eyebrow.
