Away Game

Zach wakes up when the bed dips, and he rolls into the warm space where Aaron was sleeping. “Morning,” he says, rubbing his eyes open. Aaron almost made it all the way to the bathroom. He stops and turns, face frozen like he’s been caught.

“I’m just taking a shower,” he says.

“Then why do you look so guilty?” Zach asks. He pushes himself up, back against the headboard. His glasses are on the side table, next to the condom wrapper from last night.

“Because I feel guilty?”

“Are they telling you guys not to have sex before games now? That’s an old wives’ tale, Aaron. That isn’t true.”

He shakes his head. He stares down at the carpet, an ugly geometric pattern of orange and green. “It’s the playoffs,” he says. “If we lose this…” He sounds so pained.

“It’s only sex, honey,” Zach says. Aaron shrugs, like that doesn’t explain his lack of discipline. Because Aaron is the one who has to win tonight, not Zach. Zach may write about sports, but he has no idea what it takes to win at this level. “I absolve you,” Zach says, waving his hand between them. He makes a vague gesture like he’s seen priests do on TV. “Go take a shower, and wash your sins away.”

Aaron gives him a little smile before he disappears around the corner. Zach listens for the water before he turns on the TV, looking for the news. He stretches out on the bed, ignoring his phone for as long as possible. It’s not that he expects a fire. Zach just doesn’t want to get out of bed yet. It’s so early that Zach’s alarm didn’t have a chance to wake him up.

He curls up on Aaron’s side of the bed, enjoying the leftover warmth and waiting for the local preview of tonight’s game. He lasts all of a commercial break before he gives up and gets up for his phone. Zach does a quick scan of his email first, checking in with his editor and the Falcons’ press coordinator. She has an morning conference scheduled, as well as players and coaches available for interviews. Zach should get moving.

“You’re taking your time,” Zach calls out, wandering into the bathroom, leaving his phone on the bathroom counter and peeing while Aaron is still in the shower. “I thought athletes were the masters of the five-minute shower.”

“You wore me out last night,” Aaron says over the sound of the water. He pulls the door back to make a sexy face at Zach. It doesn’t have the same effect when his hair is white with shampoo bubbles.

“Don’t make me flush,” Zach teases, his hand on the handle.

Aaron goes back to his shower. “I sit in ice baths after every game,” he says. “Do your worst.”

Zach’s worst would barely touch Aaron. He finishes up while Zach is brushing his teeth, and when he steps out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his waist, the look on his face is more smug that anything else. He smacks Zach on the ass on his way out.

“You’re not forgiven,” Zach tells him. He hears the TV volume turned up in the next room and Aaron ignoring him. Rolling his eyes, Zach ignores him right back and digs into his kit for his razor and shaving cream. Usually, Zach likes to shave in the shower, but he does it at the counter with the water running in the sink this morning because he knows Aaron will be leaving soon. He doesn’t want to miss the goodbye.

Aaron doesn’t have anything here except the clothes he was wearing last night: a royal blue suit, striped shirt, tie, and the argyle socks Zach knows he stole from Zach’s dresser. Or maybe their laundry was mixed up together. That’s been happening more often lately.

He flinches when his razor bites into skin. There’s blood, and Zach stops it with a bit of tissue. He has to learn how to control his smile while he’s shaving.

“I’m off,” Aaron says, hanging off the doorway. He’s looped the dark tie around his neck, but didn’t bother to knot it. Zach’s fingers twitch compulsively, wanting to go over there and put Aaron together: tie knotted, shirt tucked, jacket buttoned. But Aaron looks good like this, too, and Zach knows he was the one who took him apart. “Zach?” Aaron says, narrowing his eyes and staring at him funny. “Are you listening?”

“Not even a little,” he says. Zach leaves his razor on the counter and grabs a hand towel to wipe away most of the leftover shaving cream. He wants to kiss Aaron with nothing getting in their way.