#spilborghs

“Hey, Tulo?” He has to tell him now, it’s not a good timeor the right place but he has it in the head that he can do it, so he has to.

“Yeah?” Troy looks up at Nolan from where he’s been re-lacinghis shoes on the bench in the clubhouse.

Now that Nolan’s standing right in front of Troy and Troy’sactually looking at him, his resolve dies. Troy has this effect – he’s sointense that when he looks at Nolan it’s like everything around him vanishes,like there’s nothing on earth but the two of them.

They aren’t alone, though, they’re in front of Troy’slocker with the whole team scattered around them, and Nolan’s lost his nerve. Hebounces on the balls of his feet. “I can’t sit still.” They’re in the middle ofa rain delay that looks like it’s going to turn into a rainout. He’s beenpacing for the last twenty minutes, tried to play cards with Charlie and DJ buthe can’t focus.

“When can you ever?” Troy quips. His face doesn’t give awaymuch, but Nolan can tell he’s holding back a smile. “What are you going to doabout it?”

Nolan exhales. “I, uh.” He has things he wants to say,should say – but the part of him that decided now was the right time has completely vanished, leaving him onlywith the much larger part of him yelling don’tyou dare. “Do you wanna do something? Like, help me kill time. Let’s go downto the batting cages.”

“You shouldn’t wear yourself out,” Troy says even as hegets to his feet. “We might still play.”

“Yeah, I know, but I barely got to take BP before the rainstarted – “

“I know, dumbass.” Troy laughs and taps Nolan on the backof the thigh, almost absentmindedly, like he doesn’t know he’s doing it. “Let’sgo.”

Before they even make it to the cages, they get theannouncement that it’s officially a rainout, to be made up as part of a doubleheader the following day. Troy stops and looks at Nolan. “I’ll still come watchyou hit if you want.”

Nolan laughs, mind racing, thinking that everybody’s goingto be leaving and it could just be him and Troy left at the ballpark – thinkingthat might not be the worst thing in the world, but who is he to make that decisionfor Troy, who is he to keep Troy late if Troy would rather go home? Really,they both need to rest if they’re playing a double header tomorrow. Really, it’sthe responsible thing to do to say no. So that’s what Nolan does. “Nah,” hesays with a grin. “You should go. Get some extra rest while we’ve got thechance, right?”

Troy’s smile back is genuine. “Sure.”

Nolan goes home. Regrets not telling Troy what he needs totell him, sleeps badly, wakes up to a text from Troy which he doesn’t read because– he’ll see Troy today, right? If he has something to say to Nolan he can sayit to his face.

Troy’s waiting for Nolan when Nolan gets to the ballpark. “Youcould text me back, you know.”

“I didn’t see it,” Nolan lies, hoping he sounds like he’sso busy and in demand that he can’t be bothered to respond to individual texts,but he probably just sounds like a scatterbrained idiot. “What’d you say?”

Troy snorts. “Just wondered if you still wanted to take BP withme.”

Nolan always wants that.

(Nolan wants a lot.)

He watches Troy hit ball after ball in the stands during battingpractice and hopes he’s not gawking too much, like a little kid, like somestarstruck fan – he’s neither of those, he’s just Troy’s teammate.

(And he’s crazy, he’s so crazy about him.)

Troy smiles at him over his shoulder. “You look like you’reon another planet. What’s on your mind?”

“Uh.” Nolan’s mouth goes dry. “You don’t wanna know.”

Troy’s smile widens, and there’s a little bit of an edge toit now. Something playful and wicked. “Wanna bet?”

Nolan laughs, because what else can he do? “Uh, I’ll bet Ican hit a ball farther than you.” He doesn’t think he can, but it’s the bestcover he can come up with.

“Oh yeah?” Troy keeps grinning like that, and it makes Nolan’sheart race. Is he thinking what Nolan’s been thinking all along? Is Nolan moretransparent than he thought he was? And if that’s the case, then why hasn’t Troyjust addressed it yet, quit telling him to be such a freak? “And if you don’t,what do I win?”

Nolan picks up his bat with remarkable steadiness, if hesays so himself. “Winner picks the prize.”