Blindsided (Fake Boyfriend Book 4)

by Eden Finley

  It’s just nerves.

  Alan stands over the other side of the room, his arms folded and a harsh scowl on his face. That makes it worse. I’m worried Alan brings up good points. He’s right when he says I don’t have much to lose. My career is rocky as it is. This will either make or break me. This might boost my career or kill it, but it will definitely give my profile a bump up in the celebrity world. I’ll go from being in the background of paparazzi shots to being the one they want a photo of. Talon’s already at that level, and his career has nowhere to go but down.

  I don’t want to be responsible for that.

  Now the seed’s been planted, it’s only downhill from here.

  We shouldn’t be doing this.

  Fuck, why did I think we were ready for this? We both went from knowing we had to stay quiet to suddenly sitting for articles that will paint us as a committed couple. Like the most committed couple to ever couple, and here I sit wondering if Talon is one hundred percent sure.

  I should trust him. He’s been nothing but open since this whole thing started, but it’s fast. It’s superfast.

  You’ve been in love with him since college. That’s not fast.

  It’s superfast for Talon. He only realized he wasn’t straight a few months ago, and his agent certainly isn’t confident in our relationship.

  The rational voice in my head tells me that nothing’s changed, but we’ve taken such small steps I haven’t noticed how far we’ve come, and now we’re here doing a coming out interview about our relationship, when we haven’t even said I love you to each other.

  Talon’s putting a major risk on his career for a small chance this might actually work between us.

  Everything flashes through my mind. I’ve spent years worrying about ex-lovers coming forward and outing me, and there’s nothing to stop them doing that if I’m outing myself to the world. All those women we’ve shared, every single detail of our private lives is going to be splashed all over the news.

  I knew this coming in, but now it’s actually happening, I can’t think properly. My heart pounds and sweat drops off my brow. I think I’m having a panic attack.

  I force myself to take deep breaths but that makes it worse.

  “Shane,” Talon says, getting my attention.

  “Sorry, what?” I glance around the room at the four pairs of eyes scrutinizing me.

  “You okay?” Talon asks.

  I stand. “Can we … have a minute?”

  Lennon waves me off. “I need some time to get some questions together, so take however long you need.”

  Alan looks hopeful that I’m about to pull the plug on this, but Damon doesn’t look happy. I take Talon’s hand and lead him to the bedroom of the suite, closing the double doors behind me.

  “What’s wrong?” Talon asks.

  “Nothing.” I run my hand through my hair. “Everything? Fuck, I don’t know. Alan has a point.”

  “What point?”

  “Don’t play dumb. I could hear you talking. He doesn’t want you to do this. I’m fucking everything up for you.”

  “He doesn’t get a say.”

  “Talon … I …” I close my eyes, because I can’t look at him as I say this. “Maybe this is too much.”

  Talon realizes what I’m saying. “You don’t want to do this.”

  “I can’t let us do this if we’re not one hundred percent sure.”

  Maybe I’m lying to myself or maybe my words are the truth. Maybe I just need reassurance. I don’t know. All I know is I’m freaking out.

  “You’re not sure? About us, about me … about what?” Talon frowns, and I want to do everything I can to make that go away, but I don’t know if I can do what he’s asking of me. Not yet.

  “I don’t know. What if we’re going about it all wrong?”

  “Wrong how?”

  How can I expect Talon to understand when I don’t myself?

  “We’ve been doing this for how many months, but we haven’t actually spoken about a future together. We’re willing to risk everything, and for what? Tell me what a future with us would look like. You say I’m worth the risk, but what happens when this all falls apart? We might not have football or each other.”

  “We don’t know what kind of fallout this is going to have. On you, on me, or on the NFL. It’s impossible to know. But one thing I’m certain of is of you and me together. That will never be in jeopardy.”

  “What about when we’re bombarded by paparazzi every day relentlessly with no break?”

  “Won’t be much different to my life right now, but there are ways around that. No one’s bothered us while we’ve been training.”

  “Because they didn’t know where we were. I need something more than a hope we’ll stay together when our careers die and our teammates turn on us. I think being in our bubble has warped our vision. My family’s supportive. Damon, Jackson, and that whole group of great guys are everything we need this world to be, but that’s just it. The rest of the world isn’t like them, and until Alan started saying shit about why this is a bad idea, I guess I didn’t think about what reality would look like. Alan’s just the beginning. The world is full of Alans and Hendersons.”

  “Alan will be fired if he doesn’t get on board.”

  “As easy as that? You’ll walk away from the guy who got you millions of dollars over the last however many years, because you didn’t get your way?”

  “Yep. Because this is more important to me.”

  “You’re only saying that because you’re impulsive and always get what you want. Maybe this is one time you need to step back and look at the facts. This isn’t going to be easy, Marc.”

  I’m torn in two. The college guy in love with his best friend wants to do this—throw caution to the wind and do what I’ve wanted to do for years, which is tell people how I feel about Talon. The smarter or perhaps dumber part—haven’t figured out which it is yet—wants to take more time.

  If I can’t even handle Talon’s agent’s negativity, how am I going to handle everyone else? The team, reporters, social media. It’s going to be a bloodbath.

  Does that mean I’m using him as an excuse? My head’s all fuzzy right now, and I can’t make sense of anything.

  “I’m doing this,” Talon says, “whether you’re in or not. If you choose to walk out right now, the article will only be about me, but I’m still doing it.”

  I grunt. “Why the fuck are you so stubborn?”

  “Why the fuck didn’t you bring all this up before now?”

  “Because I didn’t realize this was an issue until today. You know how you sense shit on the field? It’s like that. I can’t explain it, but my gut is telling me we’re not ready. Or … I’m not ready. Then your agent stood there and reminded me that you have everything to lose—more so than me—but I’m beginning to think that’s not true. This could be the final nail in the coffin when it comes to my career. You’re big enough to bounce back. I’m not. I’ve been fighting for the last few months trying to keep my career. Doing this could end it the second it gets out.”

  Talon hold ups his hands in a just wait gesture. “You’re ping-ponging all over the place. Is this about my career or yours? Is it about us now or what we’ll become?” He steps closer and reaches for my arms, rubbing them soothingly from shoulder to elbow and back again. “What are you really scared of?”

  I pull away and slink down on the bed. “I think I need time. I like where we’re at. We’re good. Why mess with it? Don’t fix what ain’t broke, right?”

  “But don’t you see it? The world is broken, which means we’re broken. Having to hide this shouldn’t be a necessity or a choice. It shouldn’t be anything. It shouldn’t even be a factor in anyone’s lives but our own.”

  “And that’s my point! It is a factor, and maybe I’m not ready to face that yet.”

  Talon’s hand lands on my shoulder. “If this is a simple matter of you not being ready, then take all the time you need. I’m not going to f
orce you to do anything here today, and if you want me to wait for you, I will. But can you sit there and tell me that’s all there is to it?”

  My heart rate calms down a little, but it does nothing to put out the raging inferno in my gut that just won’t die down.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper. “It’s everything.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  TALON

  “I need some air.” Miller’s last words before he walks out of the hotel room don’t exactly fill me with confidence.

  I don’t know what’s going on with him—I don’t think he knows himself—so I can’t fix it. I’m a fixer. It’s what I do. I want something, I go for it. Something stands in my way, I handle it.

  I’m not used to this feeling of helplessness.

  What am I supposed to do? Lie to him and say everything will be fine? That his worries don’t hold merit? Because they do. They really fucking do. It’s not going to reassure him any when he knows I’m lying. I can promise to do everything in my power to make this work, but what if that’s not enough?

  I’m used to getting my way, but a solid future in football and with each other might be one thing that’s out of my reach.

  So, I watch him leave, knowing there isn’t anything I can do to stop it.

  He needs time. Miller’s a thinker, and he’s analytical, and that’s why we work well together. I’m impulsive, but he’s smart about things.

  He’ll come back. He’ll realize this is the right thing.

  That’s the lie I’ll tell myself, because even though I have my shit together always, this is the first time in my life when I can feel everything slipping away.

  What if it’s not just cold feet and he’s rethinking everything? What if he comes to the conclusion it’ll be easier to walk away forever?

  The living room of the suite is minus one agent when I gather the courage to go back out there.

  Lennon and Damon stand together, both looking worried.

  “Miller just needs to cool off,” I say. “This is big, and he’s been fighting for his career for months—pushing himself to get ready for the season. This has the ability to make all that work pointless.”

  I hope that’s what his true issue is. Because that’s fixable. We fight more, push harder …

  “I just wish I could reassure him about how this is gonna go over.”

  Damon nods. “It’s better for him to have that freak-out now instead of when it’s too late to take back.”

  “I don’t know what to do. Where’s Alan?”

  Damon purses his lips. “You’ve got a lawyer on hand, right?”

  My stomach sinks to my balls. “I can get one. Why?”

  “Umm … so, those doors aren’t exactly thick, and you and Miller were loud. He was on the phone to Touchstone Sports basically the minute you threatened to fire him.”

  “Trying to find a way out of the contract?” I light up at the possibility. I need a supportive team around me, not someone who wants to drive a wedge between me and Miller.

  Miller was completely fine until Alan opened his mouth.

  Damon grimaces. “Trying to keep you locked to it more like it. You’re their firm’s biggest client. I totally understand why he’d be reluctant to let you come out, but the industry needs more guys like you to step forward. Matt, Soren, and Ollie are a great start, but in all truth, they’ve barely dented the surface.”

  “I want to do the article, but it feels wrong doing it without Miller.”

  “If you’re worried about this affecting him, we could always redact Miller’s name and replace it with someone else’s to protect his identity, or we could not talk about him at all,” Lennon says.

  “I kinda have to talk about him. He’s the entire reason I even discovered this side of me.”

  “Ooh, that’s good. We can use that.” Lennon walks over to his computer. “If you still want to do this, we won’t publish it until I get the okay from you and your agent.”

  With Alan leaving half-cocked and Miller “getting air,” I know it’s not the time to do this. I want to tell the world my experience, because if someone had told me a year ago that I would be head over heels in love with a man right now, I never would’ve believed it.

  Miller’s blindsided me in more ways than one, and I can’t imagine being with anyone else. Ever.

  Just as my phone vibrates in my pocket, Damon says, “I’m gonna go check on Miller.”

  Miller: I’m gonna catch a cab to the ferry and go back to Mom’s. I’m sorry. I just can’t.

  “No point. He’s gone.” I hold up my phone. “Who wants a drink?”

  I head for the minibar.

  Damon and Lennon don’t say anything.

  Drink in hand, I throw myself on the stupid love seat and hate that it’s the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever made.

  Lennon closes his laptop. “For what it’s worth, Ollie and I went through something similar. Had it not been for Soren, we still might be hiding in a closet.”

  I can’t help thinking at least they would still be together. After Miller’s freak-out, I don’t know where we stand.

  The emails from Touchstone Sports and Alan start coming in before I’ve even finished the mini bottle of scotch in the hotel room. Lennon, Damon, and I shoot the shit and laugh instead of doing the interview, and old stories of Miller and me pour from my mouth—mainly of what we did in college. You know, minus the three-ways.

  “You’re in love with him,” Lennon says.

  “I fell in love with him before I knew I was attracted to him. Does that even make sense?”

  Damon smiles. “Makes total sense.”

  My phone buzzes with another notification, and when I look, it’s my agent’s firm again.

  “What now?” Damon asks while I scroll through the email.

  “Alan’s been busy. This one’s a copy of my contract from the Touchstone legal department with a whole bunch of ugly yellow highlighter everywhere. Either they dropped the whole contract in a vat of highlighter ink or they’re telling me all the trouble I’ll get myself into if I threaten to fire Alan again.”

  Damon huffs. “I hate agents like yours. I understand he wants to get paid, but ultimately, our job is to do what’s best for you, not your bank account.”

  Lennon nods. “That’s exactly why you’re going to be one of the biggest agents in the industry.”

  “I’ve been super lucky in scoring the big names I have,” Damon says, “but my bosses keep telling me I need to grow my client list. I’m worried the more clients I have, the more neglectful I’ll become, like them. I don’t know where the perfect balance is.”

  “Well, if I’m getting out of this iron-clad contract, I’ll be coming your way, but I don’t like my chances.”

  “Can I look?” Damon asks. “I went to law school so I could understand the contracts I get all my clients to sign. If I find any loopholes you can use, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks. What do you suggest I do until then?”

  “There’s not much you can do. You could always go above his head to his superiors.”

  “He’s a partner in the firm.”

  “I’d go there in person if that’s the case. Talk to his other partners. If you can’t get out of the firm’s contract, you might be able to get a different agent who’s better at handling the big issues.”

  Damon’s right. I need someone who’ll spin my sexuality in a positive light, which means I need to come out to the partners too.

  “Their offices are in L.A,” I say.

  I still remember the day Alan came to scout me at USC. I thought I was hot shit. Okay, who am I kidding—I still think that—but it’s different now, because football isn’t my only goal anymore.

  Damon shrugs. “Up to you if you want to go all that way, but it’ll get done faster if you’re there in person breathing down their necks. Ten bucks says they’ll give you the email runaround if you’re not there face-to-face. You might want to sort it before the se
ason starts too, so you can focus on the more important things like football. That’s what I’d do, personally, but you also need to talk to Miller about where you’re going from here.”

  Damon’s right. Touchstone will make an appointment for me if I push, but they’re likely to ignore emails. Even if I am their biggest client. “Looks like I’m going to L.A.”

  First, I need to stop by a little house on Staten Island.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  MILLER

  “How’d it go?” Mom asks as soon as I walk in the door. She looks behind me, expecting to see Talon. “Where’s—”

  Her words stop short when she takes in my expression.

  “What happened?”

  I shake my head, because I still don’t know myself. “I freaked out.”

  “Why?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Mom gives me that look—the one that tells me to stop bullshitting her. I saw that same expression countless times when I was a teenager and I’d done the wrong thing.

  “I think it was just too much. What happens when it doesn’t work out?”

  “When …”

  It takes a second to realize what I’d said. “If. Whatever.”

  “No, no. Your slip says a lot.”

  Shit, maybe it does.

  I’m too wiped to get into this with her. “I’m gonna go lie down.”

  I’m thankful Mom doesn’t follow me. I collapse on my bed face-first and bury my head in the pillow. If I could stay here for the rest of my life, that’d be sweet. Thanks, universe.

  Continuing to hide from the world won’t fix anything.

  Ugh. Shut up, guilty conscience.

  Walking away from the article felt freeing for about half an hour. Somewhere in the middle of New York Harbor, as I passed the Statue of Liberty, guilt took over the fear.

  I didn’t handle the hotel situation well at all. Maybe I should’ve said something sooner, or maybe I should’ve just swallowed it all down and did the interview. We had the option to pull it before publication if we weren’t ready.