Eric pushed away from the tree, but nothing in his eyes or demeanor offered Cache a single hint of his intentions. Cache stood his ground. He would take the hit like a man, if Eric wanted to swing at him. And the next day, he'd make sure Eric was so thoroughly humiliated that he'd lose his starting position. Maybe even lose the desire to play football and ...

The hit didn't come. Eric took his shoulders and then their lips were touching. Cache froze completely. He couldn't make himself move. He couldn't make his brain register the shock of Eric's warm mouth and warmer breath and tight hands. He would have rather been punched. He would have understood a fist to the face and maybe a sneered fucking queer.

Not this slow, almost tender, exploration of his mouth.

Cache parted his lips first, automatically. As soon as Eric's tongue touched his, a hot jolt went through the back of his neck. All he could think about were those winter mornings when he shocked himself turning on the thermostat -- how it would be a surprise, and then it would hurt, and then the pain would fade and leave behind nothing except a vague, tingling memory of the shock.

Maybe Eric was encouraged by the way Cache didn't resist. Cache certainly didn't do anything to discourage a deepening of the kiss. He didn't do anything to discourage Eric from wrapping his arm around his back and holding him closer. He gripped Eric's shoulder, holding him like he thought somebody would jump out from behind the tree and try to steal Eric away.

Eric lifted his head, and wasn't it strange to kiss somebody taller? It seemed very strange to Cache. He towered over all the girls and most of the guys he knew, but Eric still had an inch on him. They studied each other for a beat, and Cache understood he was supposed to turn his head and spit in disgust, push Eric away, threaten him, maybe even hit him, make it absolutely clear where they stood. There couldn't be any ambiguity here.

But he didn't do those things. Instead, he murmured, "I've got curfew."

Eric studied him for a moment, searching his face for a lie. Cache looked back. He wasn't trying to get away from Eric, and he wasn't lying.

"Yeah ... me, too."

"I've got to set an example for the younger players."

Eric smiled. "And some of the older ones."

They released each other at the same time. "Yeah. Look ..."

"You don't have to see me tomorrow if you don't want to."

Cache rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. "No, I want to. Meet me after the game, okay?"

For a moment, he thought Eric would grab him again. Instead he nodded and turned toward the parking lot. "I'll see you."

It was a threat and a promise, and for the first time, Cache found himself looking forward to the post-game activities more than the football game itself.