by Eden Finley
“I haven’t heard from him since he found out about us, but if that conversation was an indication, I’d stay out of glass-throwing range if I were you.”
Matt grabs my hand—he’s becoming really good at the PDA thing—and pulls me close to him. “I think I’ll be able to handle it.” With his free hand, he raises his arm and flexes his biceps.
“Do those guns actually work for anything other than catching footballs?”
Matt leans in and whispers in my ear. “You know full well they have other talents.”
After four days of countless rounds of handjobs, blowjobs, and fucking, I don’t think I’ve ever had this much sex in my life. This is where I’ve been going wrong. I’ve never been with an athlete before. Matt’s stamina is insane.
When my college boyfriend screwed me over, the only other guy I’d had regular sex with was Aron, and even then, our meet ups would be under my terms. Matt’s different. He’s always there and up for it. I thought it was a convenience thing for me, but the thought of him going back to Philly has me wanting to come up with ways to keep him in New York.
I tell myself it’s because of the sex, but a part of me thinks that’s a lie. I push that serious thought to the back of my mind and bury it as deep as possible in the part of my brain where I send rationality and maturity to die a slow and horrible death. Those bastards ruin everything for me, and right now I’m having fun with Matt. I don’t have to think when I’m with him.
When we reach my table of friends, all conversations come to a halt.
“Don’t worry,” I say, “this is my friends’ normal reaction to seeing me. My awesomeness renders them speechless.”
There’s a round of complaints from everyone and a chuckle from Matt.
“I think you’ve met everyone once before—the night you met Damon at my place,” I say.
“Uh. Right. Yeah.”
I get the feeling he has no recollection of that night, so I go around the table. “That’s Rebecca and her fiancée, Skylar. The blond guy is Wyatt, next to him is Aron, and you already know the two assholes on the end.”
“Hey,” Maddox whines.
Matt’s eyes linger on Aron for a second too long, and Aron’s the first to glance away. Even from here, I can feel the tense energy coming off him.
Everyone says Aron’s like the white version of me. We’re exactly the same height, and he’s toned and lanky like I am.
Matt takes the seat next to Damon, putting him three seats away from a pissed-off Aron. Brave man.
“I’ll get us drinks,” I say to Matt.
“Light beer,” he reminds me.
“Yeah, yeah, calories, wah, wah, wah.” Thank fuck I’m not a football player. No matter how many times I tell Matt to stop pushing himself while he’s on break, he won’t listen. He wasn’t as bad on the cruise, but now he’s determined to go back and prove himself if he gets a contract. He takes note of his calorie intake and exercises twice a day for hours at a time.
Screw that for a job.
At the bar, I’m half-expecting Aron to follow, but it’s Wyatt who appears beside me, and I cut him off before he can start whatever lecture he came over here to give me.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” I say.
“I know. And I don’t want to pick sides, but can you at least apologize to him for putting him through hell? You literally told him a month ago that you don’t do relationships, and now you’re parading Matt around. It’s not exactly fair to Aron.”
“I’m not parading Matt around. We’re just seeing each other. It might turn into something serious, it might not. Give us a few months to work it out for ourselves.” I realize now I definitely shouldn’t have brought Matt here, but it was the excuse I needed to ask him to stay.
“Maybe you should come with a warning label,” Wyatt says. His tone is light and joking, trying to make this less awkward, but I don’t think that’s a possibility now.
I huff. “Caution: acts like a dick because he’s an entitled asshole. Has a ring to it.”
Aron appears at our side. “I’m out.”
His eyes find mine, and he waits as if I’m supposed to try to stop him, but we have nothing left to say to each other. I said I was sorry and I meant it, and I get that’s not going to magically fix everything, but there’s nothing I could say now to make it better either.
Aron eventually gives up, and unsurprisingly, Wyatt follows him out of the bar.
When I get back to the table, I slide Matt’s drink in front of him and sip from mine.
“Thanks,” Matt says. His hand goes to my forearm, and it’s literally a two-second touch of gratitude that is nothing more than platonic, but the others don’t see it that way.
I sip my beer and pretend they’re not staring at me. I should know avoidance tactics won’t work with my friends, because they don’t stop. “So, yeah. Aron and I had a thing.”
Everyone at the table is silent, but I know it won’t last.
“You Noah’d him, didn’t you?” Skylar says.
“Did you just use my name as a verb?”
“Yes,” she says. “It means to act without considering the consequences. There’s going to be sides taken and we have to be conscious of who we invite where and worry about offending someone, and—”
“No,” I say. “If he can’t get over it, cut me out. I’m the one who ended it, so it’s my fault. Maybe coming tonight with Matt wasn’t the best idea.”
“Ya think?” Rebecca says and turns to Matt. “I hope you know what you’re getting into.”
Matt doesn’t answer her.
I sip my beer again and do what I do best: pretend their words don’t get to me. I know I fucked up. I act without thinking about how things will end, but it’s not like I plan to do this shit. It comes naturally.
Skylar and Rebecca stare at Damon and Maddox as if having a silent conversation. Matt’s gaze is fixated on me, but I refuse to acknowledge him.
A waiter takes our break in conversation as the perfect time to approach Matt and ask for an autograph.
Matt does it without hesitance, but Damon doesn’t stand for it. He waves the waiter over once he has Matt’s signature. “Tell your manager and the rest of the waitstaff that if you can prevent anyone from approaching Matt while we’re here, he’ll sign something for everyone on duty.”
The kid’s eyes widen. “Of course.”
With a promise of a whole heap of signed merchandise, the waiter leaves us to our drinks and then circles us like a shark to prevent anyone else approaching.
“I don’t think espionage is in that guy’s future,” I say.
“Yeah, he’s about as subtle as you and Aron,” Rebecca says.
“We’re still on this?” I ask. “I’ll back off. I hoped with the whole Matt thing he would’ve moved on by now. I won’t come to anything else until he gets over it. How about that?”
“That’s not what we want,” Skylar says.
“Then what do you want? Because short of a time machine to make me go back and tell past me not to go there with him, I’m all out of ideas.”
“This is why hooking up with friends is a bad idea,” Rebecca says.
“No shit,” I mumble and look at Matt. “You’ve gone quiet.”
He shrugs. “Don’t think it’s my place to say anything. It’s between you and your ex.”
Rebecca smiles. “Matt’s way too mature for you.”
“Probably true,” I say. He’s too everything for me. When he’s not angry over being screwed by the Bulldogs, he’s down to earth, fun, and damn, he’s driven. Honestly, if it were me who got fired for being gay—he can say all he wants about it being about not being a team player, but the truth is he lost everything because of those photos that outed him—I would’ve ran away with my tail between my legs and hid out until everyone forgot who I was. Matt’s optimistic and trying to find his way back into a world that doesn’t want him, all because he’s so passionate about football that he feels like his life i
s over if he can’t play it.
I’ve never been that passionate about anything. Ever. And until now, I didn’t realize I was missing out.
The others finally move off the topic of my shortcomings, but Matt still eyes me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Of course. I’m always okay.” I hate that I’ve known the guy a week and he already has a I call bullshit face he can pull at me. And that he’s right. “Wanna go home? You’re heading back to Philly early in the morning.”
“If that’s what you want.”
I stand immediately. “We’re out, guys. Maybe you can message Aron and Wyatt to come back.”
“And so it starts,” Rebecca says.
“Nah, here’s where it ends,” I say and turn to Matt. “You should go sign all that crap you promised before we head out.”
I follow him to the bar and wait for him off to the side while he talks with the staff. The joys of being with a football player. I pity the women who have to do this permanently.
Damon appears next to me out of nowhere, and I flinch when he starts talking, as if preparing for a lecture. “Aron will get over it.”
Not as bad as I thought. I relax a little. “I know he will. There’s not much to get over.”
He narrows his eyes. “Was that a dig at yourself or the relationship?”
“Both, I guess. Aron and I were never suited. We were bored. I shouldn’t have crossed that line with him.”
“Like you shouldn’t with Matt. It’s business.”
“I know. In a few months, we won’t ever see each other again.”
“Might be sooner than that.”
I pull back. “How soon?”
“Don’t tell Matt, but I called my office today to check in. Apparently, there’s a couple of teams taking calls about him. Nothing solid yet though, so don’t get his hopes up. I should warn you, the closest one is in the Midwest. If you did start something, it’d be long distance, and as we’ve established, you can’t even handle a relationship when you’re in the same room.”
“Got it. Warning received loud and clear. I won’t fuck Matt.”
Damon laughs. “How naïve of you to think I don’t already know you’re fucking.”
“Are you and Maddox detectives now?” Matt told me about their conversation in the kitchen, but he wasn’t supposed to tell Damon about it.
“Your fake relationship doesn’t seem so fake … Are you serious about him, or are you repeating the same mistake?”
“It’s just fucking and doesn’t mean anything.” Why does that feel like a lie? “I promise I won’t break your precious golden ticket.”
Damon rolls his eyes. “Come on, man, that’s not why I came over here. I don’t want to see either of you hurt.”
“We’ll be fine. We promised.”
“Like Aron’s fine?”
I wince. “Low blow.”
“You want my advice?”
“Nope.”
“Too bad. End it.”
A big fuck you is on the tip of my tongue, but Matt finishes up talking with the staff, so Damon backs off.
We head out the front without so much as a goodbye to my friends. They mean well, I get that, and I did screw up, but it gets to me when they play the blame game.
“You oka—shit.” Matt stalls in his tracks.
Paparazzi wait outside for us. Guess someone has a big mouth—or quick fingers on social media.
“And our break from the limelight is over,” I say so only he can hear. “Come on. We got this.”
Matt wades his way through the photographers like a pro, but in the car, his mood turns sullen. He doesn’t say anything the whole way back to my place, but as soon as we’re in the safety of my house, that’s another story.
He grabs my arm. “You okay?”
“I already told you I’m fine,” I say. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? The vultures are back.”
“Did you notice there were less this time?” He says this as if that means something. I don’t want to disappoint him by saying it might mean there was a bigger celebrity close by.
“I’m going to head to bed,” I say. When I start up the stairs, he doesn’t follow. “You coming?”
“Is that an invitation or are you asking out of some sort of obligation?”
My brow furrows. “Huh?”
“You can’t tell me the shit your friends were saying hasn’t gotten to you. You think you’re going to do the same to me that you did to Aron, and they think so too. So, you’re either inviting me up to cover the fact you’re freaking out or you really don’t care and you’re repeating the same mistakes because you obviously never asked Aron what was going on during the entire time you were together.”
“It’s too late at night for psychoanalyzing.” I turn on my heel and march up the steps.
“Goodnight then.”
He’s seriously not following me? Fine. He’s leaving tomorrow anyway.
I continue up the stairs without looking back.
“Really?” Matt yells when I’m almost at the top.
I pause. “What?”
“I literally gave you an opening to talk about what went down tonight, and you’re bailing.”
“We’re fucking, Matt. We don’t talk.”
That’s a lie, and I know it. Matt’s learned more about me in the week we’ve spent together than any of my friends have in years. For some reason, I’ve spoken to him about my issues with my father. Maybe I wouldn’t have had he not overheard them, but the fact is, I’ve talked more with him than I have with any other person.
We get each other. We were brought up completely different but somehow have a lot in common.
“If that’s how you want to play it, then fine, but if you ask me, I reckon your friends are full of shit.”
I freeze on the steps and finally turn back. “You what?” I can’t have heard right. No one takes my side. Ever.
Something a lot like gratitude tries to melt my cold, dead heart, but I don’t let it. He’s probably just saying it so I quit with the pity-party routine. I fucked up. It’s my fault. There’s no way around that.
“I get they’re pissed because you and Aron have made it awkward between them.” Matt slowly starts walking up the stairs to meet me. “But you’re not the only one at fault here. Aron knew what he was getting into, just as I do. He broke the rules. He fell for you when you told him not to. He no doubt couldn’t help that, and it’s easy to say you shouldn’t have started something with him in the first place, but you’re not the asshole your friends are making you out to be.”
“Yeah, I am.” I have to be. I can’t … I don’t like that Matt can see right through me.
“No. You’re not.” He steps into my space. “You don’t let them know their words get to you. They don’t know the guilt you feel.” Warm lips drop to my neck. “This doesn’t change anything between us.”
I moan when Matt’s hands find their way under my shirt. “Damon told me to stop.”
“Do you usually do what Damon says?”
“I don’t want to make the same mistakes.”
Matt pulls back and grins. “I want to fuck you, not marry you.”
“You say such sweet things to me.” I drag him the rest of the way upstairs and into my room.
We tumble in a pile of limbs on my bed, and even though I’m making a mistake still alarms in my head, the feel of Matt against me wins out. It’s addictive, and I’m definitely going to need a stint in rehab when he leaves.
The fact is, I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t know what my number is with Matt, and that thought alone scares the shit out of me.
I put my hand on his chest and push him just enough for him to back off with his hips still digging into mine.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Maybe we should stop.”
He pulls back farther, misunderstanding what I mean. “Right now?”
I grip his ass and bring him closer to me again, and I almost l
ose my train of thought when his cock presses against me. “No, not now. But, I mean, you’re going back to Philly tomorrow, and it could be a clean break.”
“I’ll be back in two weeks.”
“For publicity.”
He hesitates for a second and then shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “If that’s what you want.”
It’s not lost on me that I had this conversation with another guy not that long ago and he complained. I would’ve given anything for Aron to accept my terms as easy as Matt has, but lying here right now, something niggles in my chest, and it feels a hell of a lot like disappointment.
When footsteps sound across the carpet in the hallway toward my room, I smile and roll onto my back, preparing for Matt’s usual wakeup call. It takes a few seconds for me to remember he’s leaving today, and with how high the sun is and with it blinding me through the windows, I think I’ve missed my goodbye. For a minute, I get excited at the thought that he didn’t leave, but that’s dashed when my mother appears in my doorway.
Dad’s very own Michelle Obama. At least, that’s what he tries to sell her as to the public. To me, she’s the woman who’ll whoop my ass if I’ve done something wrong. And by the look on her face, I’ve done something wrong.
“Still in bed, I see.” Her voice is scolding but her chocolate eyes are warm, so I can’t tell if she’s playing with me or is serious.
“Is there somewhere I should be?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe a large office block in Midtown, holding pompons and saying ‘Vote for my dad!’” Ah, so half-serious, half-teasing me about my life choices.
“You paint a fascinating picture there, but I don’t see it ever happening.” I sit up and make sure the sheet stays wrapped around me.
Mom rolls her eyes. “I’m your mother. There’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“Yes, but I’m not two anymore.”
“Even if your behavior lately says otherwise.” Her gaze darts around the room as if assessing it. “Where’s …”