The Quarterback by Tal Bauer
Chapter Seventeen
Colton handedNick a large Starbucks drip and plopped down beside him at the gate. He let his leg drift sideways and lean into Nick’s. Nick’s gaze darted to him as he took a sip of his coffee. He pressed his knee back against Colton’s.
Colton smiled into his caramel macchiato.
They’d left Austin before dawn, taking the early shuttle up to Dallas before connecting on a sunrise flight to Lubbock. Now they were waiting for Kimbrough’s chopper to collect them and ferry them out to the oil rig.
He’d woken in Nick’s arms Saturday, Sunday, and that morning, and each day, Nick was all smiles. The past two mornings Nick had been awake before Colton, lying in bed and gazing at Colton when Colton opened his eyes. He’d kissed Colton slowly, and that turned into making out, which turned into a thrust and grind that ended with fevered kisses and come spilling across their stomachs.
Saturday morning, Colton had moved all his things into Nick’s bedroom and bathroom.
After a weekend spent mostly in Nick’s bed—other than two trips to the park to toss around the football in the evening sun—it was weird to be back in a button-down and a tie. Back to being Nick’s intern, too.
There was something a little bit naughty about that. Something that made Colton bite his lip and steal a sideways glance at Nick. Nick looked so put together in his dress shirt and his perfectly knotted tie. He was reading emails on his phone and had his coffee cup balanced on his thigh, and to the rest of the world, he looked like the polished executive he was.
But Colton saw through the starch and the cotton and the hair gel and saw Nick like he’d been the night before: back arching, eyes squeezed shut, chanting Colton’s name as his fingers dug into Colton’s hair. Colton had been trying to swallow all of Nick’s cock, deep-throat him until he had his nose buried in Nick’s pubes. He couldn’t quite make it, but Nick seemed to appreciate his efforts.
There were other sides of Nick he knew now. How Nick looked when he was falling asleep, but he didn’t want to close his eyes yet and kept kissing Colton’s fingers to stay awake. The sound of his voice as they talked with the lights off, trading stories and memories and moments from before they’d met. It seemed wild, remembering that there was a whole life he’d had—and that Nick had—before they met. Sometimes it felt like his life hadn’t really begun until Nick had thrown him against the front foyer in the jock house, pinning him to the wall with those pissed-off eyes.
He heard stories about Justin, of course. At first, it was strange to realize the little boy in diapers Nick was describing running through the sprinklers was Justin, but that faded as Nick told more stories, and the idea Colton had had that Nick was a great dad turned into a conviction, a foundation piece of the mosaic that was Nick.
He learned that Nick was a morning person and sometimes hummed in the shower, and he could get quiet and contemplative in the evening when they sat on the balcony together. He was impatient with Netflix shows and had started, but not finished, over two dozen. He loaded his dishwasher in color order and stacked the glasses by height. Most of the time he smiled when Colton called his name, but occasionally he’d be lost in thought and it would take Colton a few tries to get his attention, and when he did, Nick had a faraway, almost worried look in his eyes. Colton tried to kiss that look away whenever he saw it.
Nick liked holding Colton’s hand, and he liked when Colton fell asleep with his head on Nick’s chest and Nick’s fingers tangled in Colton’s hair. Colton loved that, too.
Sunday night, he’d asked Nick if he could text the cowboys a picture he’d snapped while they were at the park: Nick about to toss the football back to Colton, standing five yards away. From where he’d taken the photo, it was easy to see the effortless smile on Nick’s face.
“Sure,” Nick had said. He’d hesitated, though, and because of that, Colton had hesitated, too, before sending the photo.
Working on arm strength, he’d finally said. Sling free!
Justin smiled and said Looking good, dad! Wes thumbs-upped his photo, and then Colton got a separate text from Wes, sent just to him. You and Nick hanging out this summer?
Yeah.
He waited. Maybe Wes was waiting for him to say more. Yeah, he’s been a big help, or Yeah, we throw the football on the weekends, or Yeah, the internship really kicks ass.
Or Yeah, I think I’m falling in love with him.
Cool, Wes finally texted.
Yeah. Cool.
“Mr. Swanscott?”
They both blinked, startled when a man who looked like he’d stepped off the set of Top Gun stopped in front of them. He held out his hand to Nick. “I’m Jose. I’ll be your pilot out to the Permian Basin today.”
Nick stood and shook his hand, then introduced Colton. “Colton Hall, my— My right hand.”
The pilot, a Hispanic, middle-aged man with a seventies mustache, long sideburns, and mirror-shine aviators, grinned. He was one of those guys who was born cool, and he knew it. “Pleased to meet you, Right-Hand Man.”
Colton snapped a photo of Nick climbing into Kimbrough’s sleek executive chopper, and then he took a selfie of them together with their sunglasses and headsets on. He recorded the takeoff and the smooth glide out of Lubbock before the turn toward the desolate, dust-strewn plains of Central Texas.
Kimbrough was waiting for them at the rig’s landing pad, all smiles and sideways hugs. He was still gentle with Colton, but he shouted about how pleased he was to see Colton without his sling on. He gave them a tour of the rig and the site, patient when Colton started asking questions: Why was there oil out here? Why so much?
“We’re standing on top of buried beaches, Colton,” Kimbrough said. “Hundreds of millions of years ago, most of Texas was underwater. Eventually, all that water moved on to other places, and then the land changed and grew, and now those ancient beaches are buried beneath our feet. Some are only a few thousand feet deep.” He smiled. “So close it feels like you can dig your arm into the ground up to the elbow and run your fingers through all that old sand. Other beaches, and other parts of the ancient seafloor, are much farther down. Tens of thousands of feet. Ancient beaches and ocean beds are the best places to start looking for the signs.”
“What signs?”
“Dead things. Decayed things that passed on all those years ago. Back then, all those things would have been buried at the bottom of the sea, and over time, the weight of the world moving on top of them created a damn hot pressure cooker. All those hydrogens and carbons reassembled into oil and gas, trapped by the earth, until one day a man like me comes and taps into the ground, trying to find all those secret mysteries. Bring up fossils from the Jurassic, trapped sea water from the Lower Cretaceous. And oil.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a sealed test tube filled with a dark, honey-slick substance, smooth and viscous. He handed it to Colton. “That’s what I’ve brought up from my wells here. You’re holding millions of years of time in your hands.” He grinned.
Colton turned the vial over and over, watching the oil slide and coalesce inside the glass. “This is amazing.” He tried to hand it back, but Kimbrough said no, that it was a gift from him to them both.
“Now, let’s get this network turned on, so it’s not awkward as hell for you two to be standing there with my oil in your hands and nothing for me.” Kimbrough winked.
Time to see whether eighteen months of Nick’s dedicated effort—and two months of Colton’s assistance—was going to work. Nick sent the start code to the towers, and then all three of them hovered over Kimbrough Oil Mobile phones like the ones Nick had shipped out to the rigs.
He stood so close to Nick he was inside Nick’s shadow. Kimbrough’s eyes darted to him, and he almost took a half step back, but—no. He stayed close enough to feel the rustle of Nick’s shirt against Colton’s chest. Close enough to feel Nick’s nerves, see his pulse hammering in the curve of his neck.
“It will work,” he’d said to Nick on the chopper as they were coming in and watching Kimbrough wave to them, one big hand holding down his cowboy hat. “It will work perfectly.”
He held his breath and stared at the phone in Nick’s hand—never mind that he was holding one as well—watching the little cell tower icon dance and flip and spin, searching, searching, searching for signal.
And then it connected. Kimbrough Oil Mobile flashed across the top bar, the name of the world’s newest cellular network.
Kimbrough whooped, slapped Nick on the back, and immediately called his wife. “Hon? Goddamn, guess what I’m calling you on? My own cellular network!”
Nick had his laptop open and was tracing the flow of calls and data across the new network and all the cell towers they’d installed. Colton hovered over his shoulder, watching lines of code fly by: calls initializing and terminating, web browsers opening. Data packets flying in and out of the network. On the rig, guys were grinning down at their new phones, and he heard one guy call out to another, “Dude, you can even get porn in high def!”
He wanted to kiss Nick, but he settled for laying his hand on the small of Nick’s back. “You did it,” he whispered. “It’s perfect.”
Nick beamed.
Kimbrough was ecstatic, and the second call he made was to 9-1-1 to test the connection. “No emergency, darlin’,” he said to the operator. “I’m just damn pleased the connection went through nice and strong.” He made call after call after call, from his wife to the rest of the company officers to each member of his board of directors.
After, they piled back into the chopper with Jose, where a chilled bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and three flutes waited for them. They toasted as the chopper took off, sipping Dom Perignon while they crossed the Permian Basin.
He sneaked a squeeze of Nick’s hand while Kimbrough was looking out the window, pointing out anticlines in the basin that meant something to petroleum geologists and oil explorers but looked like hills and prairie to Colton. Nick threaded their fingers together and squeezed back, and they held on maybe a second too long, because Kimbrough’s eyes knifed to where their thighs were pressed together and hiding their grasp before he launched into another story about digging wells and searching for oil gushers out in the barren wilds of Texas.
They spent the afternoon flying to each of the rigs to test the signal strength and shake hands. The workers were already streaming music and downloading videos, and when Kimbrough asked Nick what website was visited the most so far, Nick had to clear his throat before he said, “Ah, Pornhub, it looks like.”
Kimbrough roared. “Well, you certainly are going to improve morale around here, Nick. Goddamn, this is fine work. Goddamn.”
Nick was all beaming smiles when they dropped Kimbrough off at the first rig, and then they flew on back to Lubbock, relaxed and loose in the back of Kimbrough’s chopper. Colton waited until Jose seemed otherwise occupied, then cupped Nick’s cheek and drew him close for a quick kiss. Nick grabbed his waist and kissed him back, hard and fast.
At the airport, they had a few hours to kill before their flight back to Austin, and he bought Nick another glass of champagne at The Only Bar in Lubbock Airport. They laughed at the name as they played footsie beneath the cover of the high top, making eyes at each other over their champagne glasses.
Sunshine, an early morning, and two glasses of bubbly before the rumble and hum of a flight were enough to lull Colton to sleep. He’d always had an easy time sleeping on team buses and long road trips, drifting off to the roar of the engine and the hum of the road. Planes were even easier, and before they’d reached cruising altitude, his eyes were slipping closed.
He popped awake to the feeling of eyes on him. He inhaled, shifted in his seat, looked to his left—
Nick was there, staring at him, a soft smile on his face. “Hey,” he said. “We’re going to land in about twenty minutes.”
Colton stretched, one arm over his head, the other out in front of him. It still twanged to raise his right arm too high. “Did you get any sleep?”
Nick shook his head. “I was watching you.”
He flushed, his insides going soft and liquid like Kimbrough’s found oil. He gazed at Nick from beneath his eyelashes, biting his lip and trying to hold back his smile. His happiness dimmed, though, as he gazed at Nick. “What’s wrong?”
“How could you tell something is bothering me?”
“I know you. Or I try to know you.”
Nick’s eyes closed, and he took a slow, deep breath. “It’s nice to be known.”
Colton waited. The landing gear made that high-pitched squealing sound as it clanked into position. “Is there something I can do?”
Nick’s eyes popped open. “What do you see in me?”
“Huh?”
“Why on earth do you want me?” Nick’s voice was a whisper. “I can’t figure it out.”
“Why wouldn’t I want you? Nick, you’re…” He swallowed. “You’re so freaking amazing it’s unreal. You’re so smart. Look at what you just did.” He nodded behind him, like he was nodding at Lubbock. “You’re an awesome guy. You’re kind to everyone. Always. It’s one of the best things about you. You were kind to me when you didn’t have to be. Look at everything you’ve done to help me.” He flushed. “I mean, you know, before.”
Nick smiled.
“This seems like the time to ask what you see in me, but I’m kind of scared to.” What if Nick said something like Your muscles or How you play quarterback or even I don’t know, but you kissed me and it had been a while since anyone had? He tried to chuckle away his nerves as he ground his heel into the carpet.
“You’re genuine,” Nick breathed. “You’re exactly who you are. I look at you, and I can see your entire heart.” He inhaled, sharply. “And what I see, I trust.”
Big words, considering what he’d confessed to Colton in Dallas. I don’t know how to begin to trust another woman. I don’t know how to open myself up.
But hadn’t Colton said that maybe, sometimes, only two guys could understand each other in those really deep ways? It was true for him. He’d never been as close to any girl as he’d gotten with Nick. Even Wes, in a way, though that was brotherly and Nick was… not.
You can have my heart.He wanted to say it, but… He held back, biting down on his lip as he held Nick’s stare.
The flight attendant came on the intercom and announced their imminent landing. They fiddled with their seat backs, straightened their seat belts, and after the attendant had passed on her final check, Nick slid his hand into Colton’s in the space between their thighs.
It was dark when they landed, and as soon as they turned on their phones, they both buzzed with texts from their cowboys. More photos, and he and Nick leaned in close as they scrolled through.
“Do you want to send them some photos from today?” Colton had taken a bunch of Nick and Kimbrough and their champagne flight. The three of them had even squeezed together for a selfie. The wide brim of Kimbrough’s Stetson had hung over both his and Nick’s heads.
Nick hesitated. “I’ve never shared things like that with Justin. He’s never been interested in my work.”
“Well, that’s his loss. What you do is really cool. And important.”
“Bringing porn to oil rigs?”
Colton laughed. “It’s more than that. You’re going to save lives with your network.”
Nick waited as the rest of the passengers filed past them off the plane. His frown line had appeared, that deep vertical furrow between his eyebrows. “You think they’ll want to know?”
Wes would, for sure. He’d thought Justin would, too, until Nick had said he wouldn’t. “Yeah. I mean, I hope they would. They should be proud of you.”
“Proud of us.” Nick leaned into Colton’s shoulder. “You helped immensely.”
He grinned, his cheeks going warm as he sent the photo of the three of them in the chopper, holding champagne flutes with an oil rig outside the window. Huge success today, he texted. Like, back-to-back touchdown amazing!
Both Justin and Wes left shocked emojis on the photo. Dude, Wes texted. Is that a private chopper? And an oil rig?
What kind of internship has you flying around in a private helo with Dom Perignon???Justin texted.
Colton frowned. “Congrats, Nick,” he texted, typing what they both should have said. He slid his phone into his back pocket and ignored its repeated buzzing as he grabbed Nick’s laptop bag out of the overhead.
Nick’s expression pinched as he stared down at his phone. “Kids will keep you humble.” He pocketed his cell, too.
It took everything not to kiss Nick right there in front of the pilot and the flight attendant and the last few passengers pulling down their bags. “Let’s go home. I’ll give you the celebration you deserve.”
