Blindsided (Fake Boyfriend 4)

Shit, what if he is? I wouldn’t think he’d be like that. Mom and Dad might be religious people, but they believe God created everyone the way they are for a reason and that He loves everyone no matter what, and we were raised with those same values. So, I should call my brother.

Maybe.

If I didn’t have a practice game this afternoon, I’d be chugging down all the mini bottles of alcohol in the minibar for some courage.

My leg bounces as I force myself to click on his name.

“Yello,” he answers like a douche.

“Green,” I say dryly.

“What’s up, little brother? Shouldn’t you be throwing a football and getting paid big stupid money for it?”

“I, uh, have a completely random question for you.”

“Yes, you’re still a dork even though you’re super famous now.”

“Shut up. Can we be serious for a minute?”

The line goes silent.

“Is everything okay?” he finally asks.

“It’s fine. I’m just … curious.” My eyes widen at the poor choice of words. “I mean wondering. I was thinking …”

“What is it? You’re freaking me out.”

“Well … you know how Jackson plays for Chicago now?”

“The gay guy? What about him? If you’re about to say something homophobic, you’re not too old to get a kick in the ass.”

I chuckle. “No, but that makes this a little easier. I, umm, kinda … walked in on him and his boyfriend.”

Trey makes a kind of choking sound as if he’s trying to hold in laughter. “Awkward,” he sings.

“Right. Even more awkward by, umm …”

“By what?”

“I kinda … well, I … and then.” There I go losing the ability to talk again. “It’s not like I had any desire to join them or anything, but I kinda stood there, and then … and then …”

“You liked it?” There’s no malice, no disgust, just curiosity.

“Yes? No? I don’t know. It’s not like I … you know …”

“No, I don’t know. Remember what Mom always said to us as teenagers. If you can’t even say sex, penis, or any of the correct technical terms, you’re not mature enough to be having sex.”

I feel like a kid again asking my older brother for advice on girls. “I, like, got hard. And I can’t stop picturing them together. And—”

I’m cut off by the laugh Trey’s been holding in, and I want to die. Just kill me now and put me out of my misery.

“So glad you find this funny, bro.”

“I’m only laughing because you’re freaking out over nothing. Do you find your teammate attractive?”

“No,” I say easily.

“His boyfriend?”

“No. He’s definitely good-looking in the way movie stars are, but no, I don’t find him attractive.”

“When you watch porn, are you attracted to the guy on the screen?”

“Where are you going with this? It’s obviously a no.”

“What about the girls? Are you attracted to them?”

I have to think about that. My immediate response is yes, but I can’t even picture a single porn star’s face or body. It’s more the act than the girls. “Umm, I don’t think so.”

“Exactly. You got turned on by sex. That’s all. Didn’t matter it was between two guys. It’s still sex.”

Could it really be that simple?

“Or, you know, homosexuality is contagious, and you’ve caught it.”

“Can I kick your ass for saying phobic shit?”

“Nope, because if you can’t tell that I was being sarcastic, we have bigger problems than you getting turned on by two dudes fucking each other.”

“They weren’t actually fuck—you know what, never mind. I gotta go.”

“Stop freaking out, Marcus.”

“I’m not freaking out.” My voice is unnaturally high-pitched. Am I freaking out? I haven’t even told him about jerking off to Miller.

“It doesn’t mean anything, and you need your head clear for the season.”

I really do. “You’re right.”

“Of course, I am. I’ve taught you everything you know.”

“Sure you did. That’s why I make millions and you’re stuck at a desk job in Denver.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Denver, and you’d know that if you’d signed with our team and come home instead of Chicago.”

I don’t want to admit to him the real reason why I signed with Chicago, because after what I just confessed, I’m scared he’ll take back the whole “It doesn’t mean anything.” And right now, that makes more sense to me than anything going on in my head. Adding Miller into the situation confuses me more, so maybe it’s best if I pretend that amazing jerk-off session where I made myself come harder than I ever had before never happened.

“Chicago offered me more money,” I lie. Well, it’s not a complete lie. They did offer more money, but had Miller not been a Warrior, I never would’ve signed with them.

“Well, now you’re being greedy. You’re already the golden child for buying Mom and Dad a house.”

“Hey, I asked if you wanted a house, but you chose a ridiculous sports car to overcompensate for your small dick.”