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The heat is making him feel miserable, Trevor decides. It's the heat. They should be at the beach, but instead Cam has decided to let the program boys spend their last day in Anaheim holed up in his parents house because he didn't feel like making plans.
Cole is somewhere getting coffee and Alex had decided to just head back to LA “to beat the traffic” but what everyone knows he really means is “to beat off Quinton” before the team dinner because it’s less than an hour drive on a good day. Well, good for him for having his own Canadian-rival-teammate-turned-boyfriend. Cole could learn a thing or two.
It's late August and Trevor can practically feel himself melting into the couch. It doesn't help that Jack has his feet propped up on Trevor's knees, and Cam is flopped between them on his phone playing reels with the volume just loud enough to be annoying. At least the air conditioning works better than at his and Jamie’s place.
“Do you think I like him more than he likes me?”
Jack looks up.
“Who, your boy?”
“Oh,” Cam snorts. “Yeah, obviously.”
Jack shoots him a glare.
“Want me to lie? Jamie's a fuckin’ catch, man. He's got options.”
“I have options,” Trevor snaps. “It's just that he happens to be my favorite one.”
Cam looks like he has a snarky remark lined up. He always looks vaguely annoying, Trevor thinks. Just the way his face is arranged.
“You don't think I'm his first option?”
“I didn't say that.”
Jack rolls his eyes and gives Cam a light kick.
“Why don't you just talk to him about it if you feel weird? He's a good guy.”
“Yeah,” Cam nods with a grin, “Just ask your boyfriend if he likes you or not.”
It's stupid. Trevor knows. But something in him wonders.
–
“Do you like me?”
It's dark, but Trevor can’t sleep at all. The heat. It’s the heat. Jamie is pressed against him, warm against the night air creeping in through the cracked window.
Jamie stirs and wraps his arms tighter around Trevor.
“Because, you know, I like you a lot.”
It feels embarrassing to admit, even in the darkness. Even if Jamie won't remember the conversation tomorrow. He sounds half asleep when he responds.
“Like you? Fuckin’ love you, man.”
That wasn't the question.
“Yeah,” Trevor hears himself say. “Yeah, okay. Sorry for keeping you up.”
Jamie doesn't reply, just pulls him close and tucks his head into the space between Trevor's neck and shoulder.
He thinks Jamie likes him. He hopes so. He feels hot and stupid and his head is spinning. It’s just the heat. Always wanting more than he can take.
What he wants right now is to just fall asleep in Jamie’s arms and dream about nothing. But Cam’s words are rattling around still, somewhere deep in the back of his head.
“He’s got options.”
If not me, who?