The Endgame (Atlanta Lightning 1)

“We can role-play rent-boy fantasies if you want.”

“I’m being serious.”

I sighed. “I know. Let’s switch to a video call.” I hung up before he had the chance to argue and called him back. I knew he was alone. He wouldn’t have called otherwise. “If you don’t want to do it, say no. It’s a big decision,” I said as soon as he answered. My cock wasn’t happy about that. My dick wanted me to tell him how awesome it would be with me. Wow, I was having a conversation with my dick. What had my little tight end done to me?

“I’m not saying no. I’m just not saying yes either. I don’t… I want it. Fuck, I want it, but… Never mind.”

“Tell me.” I fluttered my eyelashes playfully. It had helped me to get my way in the past.

Anson cocked his head, studying me. “What’s wrong?”

What. The. Fuck? How did he know something was wrong? I was giving him the same show I gave everyone. No one else saw through it. But Anson did. I’d seen him in person twice in my life, yet he could read me that well? It didn’t make sense. “Nothing.”

“You want me to be honest with you, but you’re not being honest with me. You’re the only person in the whole fucking world who knows about me, and you don’t trust me?”

He was right. I didn’t want to share shit with anyone, but…maybe I could with him. I had a part of him no one else did. The least I could do was share something of myself with him too. “I had a small run-in with my dad today. It wasn’t anything major. Hell, it wasn’t anything new. It just gets to me sometimes. I wish things could be different, but if there’s one thing my life has taught me, it’s that wishes don’t come true. Sometimes I forget that.” The fact that I’d shared all that about my father and myself was a big-ass neon sign I didn’t want to acknowledge. Being able to talk to Anson when I didn’t normally share my feelings about my father didn’t mean anything. “You have your shirt off. You never have your shirt off when we video chat, and look at you, all glistening with sweat. Are you sure you didn’t call me for a jerk-off session?”

Anson rolled his eyes. “I didn’t expect you to see me. I didn’t video call at first, remember? And does that usually work? Changing the subject?”

I didn’t usually talk about my dad at all, but I kept that truth to myself. “When my cock is involved, there’s not much pretty boys won’t let me get away with.”

Damned if he didn’t blush.

“I’m sorry about your dad.”

“I don’t want to talk about him.”

“I’m still sorry. It can’t be easy to work with him.” Anson was moving. He walked over and sat on his bed. “Sometimes I wonder if things would have been easier for me—the gay thing—if my dad were alive. Would there have been less pressure in other areas to make it easier for me? For all I know, he wouldn’t have accepted me, so it likely would have been harder, but I do think about it sometimes. I’m sorry your father doesn’t accept you.”

“It is what it is.”

“You don’t like to talk about your emotions, do you?”

I chose to ignore his question. “Would your mom be okay if you came out? I know you said she’s religious and has dreams of a wife and babies for you. But do you think she’d be okay with it?”

He sighed. “My mom loves me. I know that. I think…I think she’d be hurt, which I know is a sad way to put it. It’s not what she wants for me, but I don’t think she would disown me. In some ways, that makes it harder to disappoint her, while at the same time, it makes me feel weaker for not owning my shit, ya know? Because I know everyone isn’t as lucky.”

“No, they’re not, but you’re not everyone. We all have our own stories. We all deal with things in life differently. That’s what makes us human. Can you imagine if we were all the same? There is no wrong way to be yourself, Bashful.”

Anson gave me a shy smile that made my heart trip. “You’re good at this, being there for other people.”

“I can see I have you fooled.”

“No. You don’t. Earlier, what you wanted me to tell you… I’m nervous that if I do this with you, I’m going to want more.” Now my heart didn’t trip—it fucking imploded. I didn’t have more to offer him. Even if I wanted to, there was no way we could make it work, not with our careers. Anson must have read the panic on my face because he added, “Not with you, jackass! God, you are so fucking cocky. I just mean, if I do this with you, I’ll know what it’s like to be with a man, and I’ll crave more.”