Page 26 of Caught Running
“Right,” Jake nodded seriously, privately wondering how godawful boring a biology essay had to be. “Because you have plans tomorrow,” he reminded with a smirk.
Brandon laughed. “Right. I have hot plans tomorrow that are not to be missed,” he teased. Inwardly, he knew he was in for trouble. Oh God, yes. The awkwardness between them seemed to have disappeared, leaving a comfortable camaraderie tinged with humor and warmth. And it was oh so seductive to think it could last.
Hot plans. God, did Jake wish. He was really going to have to plan a trip into the city soon, just to relieve some of the tension building inside him. Once again he found himself watching Brandon with nothing to say. And so he simply watched, uncaring of the silence now.
Seeing the teasing fall flat, Brandon’s smile faded. He left Jake sitting there, regretting the words now. Obviously Jake didn’t feel as at ease around him as he felt around Jake. He wondered if the allowance to stay was out of pity. Pity for the brainy teacher who had nothing better to do than grade papers on a Saturday morning. He jerked up the bag, intending to turn around and tell Jake he’d changed his mind, that he needed something back at the school.
Jake watched the light fade in Brandon’s eyes before he turned, and he frowned, chewing on his lower lip as he pondered the situation. His knee bounced nervously, and he stared at the floor, worrying, wondering too many things and imagining too many things to even categorize. He wouldn’tallow himself to hope that he was sensing what he thought he was sensing. No way was he going down that road.
Brandon walked back up the hall with a purpose, stopping in the doorway to look at Jake, and he froze. The look of indecision on the coach’s face arrested him, the obvious worry there surprised him. What on Earth? “Jake? You okay?” Brandon asked, completely forgetting about what he’d planned to say.
Jake jerked his head up in response and blinked at the man. The desire to just come out and ask was almost overwhelming. But Jake knew on a basic level that he didn’t have the balls to do it. “Yeah,” he answered belatedly. “Sorry, just floating,” he said with a smile and a slow flush.
The urge to go over and do something about that smile was painful. Brandon cleared his throat. “I’m going to sit in the living room, be comfortable.” And he fled, afraid of what he might do to get himself in trouble. Big trouble. He flopped on the couch and stared at the fireplace, but all he saw was brown eyes. “God. I’m so, so fucked,” he muttered.
Jake rolled his eyes to the ceiling and pressed his lips tightly together as he was left alone in the kitchen. “Get it together, sport,” he murmured to himself. He thought he heard Brandon speaking in the living room, but it wasn’t loud enough for him to be certain. He sat there for another moment and then stood abruptly. He might as well get the lineups together now. Then maybe he wouldn’t feel quite so stupid as Brandon sat in the other room being a real teacher.
Snapping out of it when he heard Jake scoot his stool around, Brandon huffed and pulled his pack open, yanking out portfolios of papers and digging in the zipper pocket for his glasses. He found a pen at the bottom of the bag and sat back against the arm of the couch as he slid the metal-rimmed glasses on. Work. Work work work. Work is good for distraction, hetold himself. Work, he repeated, every time he heard Jake moving.
After looking through the third place Jake thought he might find his scorebook, he stepped into the living room and glared around at the surroundings, trying to think back to last night. “Well, fuck a duck,” he finally spat. “Is the scorebook in your bag, by any chance?”
Brandon’s chin snapped up as a strangled laugh escaped him. “Fuck a duck?” he asked as he bent to dig in his pack, successfully finding the book and holding it up.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never heard that one,” Jake growled as he thumped over and snatched the scorebook. He flopped down onto the couch beside Brandon and flipped through the book grouchily.
Brandon sniggered, relaxing unconsciously as the easy banter seemed to be back. “You’ve got an awfully inventive vocabulary,” he said. It was sort of a backhanded compliment.
“Shut up,” Jake grumbled good-naturedly as he sank further into the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table. “My momma taught me how to cuss,” he drawled with a grin.
Brandon hooted, slumping against the arm of the sofa. “That’s one momma I’d like to meet,” he said with a snort. “Sure she didn’t do that just so she’d have a chance to go at that mouth with a bar of soap?”
“I learned to talk early,” Jake blurted defensively, smirking as he tried not to laugh.
“And often,” Brandon shot right back.
“Ooh,” Jake cried as he pressed a hand to his heart. “Truth hurts,” he laughed, eyes dancing.
Brandon licked the tip of his finger and hooked it in the air in front of him, making a fizzing sound. “Score one for the nerd.”
“Even a blind squirrel finds a nut every now and then.” Jake snickered.
The other teacher’s jaw dropped, but he came back with a quick jab. “It’s easy when the ground’s littered with them.”
“Shake that tree enough, and you get hit in the head,” Jake practically giggled.
“Sothat’swhat happened to you!” Brandon exclaimed with exaggerated, huge eyes.
“Hey!” Jake barked. “Momma fumbled a lot,” he huffed, barely keeping a straight face.
Brandon opened his mouth, but stopped and pressed his lips together. He rolled his eyes and sighed, shaking his head. “Goddamn it,” he muttered, unable to think of a good comeback. Jake chortled with gleeful relish as he settled back into his scorebook. On the coffee table, his toes twitched and bounced to a tune only he could hear.
Picking up his pen, Brandon again shook his head as he started back on the grading. The banter shocked the hell out of him. It came so easily with Jake.Like they’d known each other for years. But now he was relaxed, he could focus on his paperwork, and he could deny how happy he felt because Jake was sitting right next to him.
It was a full thirty minutes later before Jake got his stats tallied and the lineup solidified for that day’s game. He tapped his pencil against the list of batting averages and fielding percentages that he’d figured up in his head, groaning loudly as he realized that it was almost time to start getting ready to head to the school. He tossed the scorebook to the coffee table and flopped sideways on the couch, jostling Brandon with his feet.
Shaken out of his concentration, Brandon pulled back as feet attached to long legs pushed onto his lap, nudging the papers. He lifted a brow and tipped his chin to look at Jake, glasses sliding down his nose. “Is this your way of telling me you want my attention?” he asked. Yep. Still feeling happy.Shit.
“No, but feel free to keep my feet warm,” Jake ordered haughtily as he waggled his fingers at Brandon and then tucked his hands under his head, long body stretched out comfortably.