Blindsided (Fake Boyfriend 4)

Me: Guess your porn subscription is getting a workout, huh?

Smooth, jackass.

Miller doesn’t respond, and for some reason, my brain thinks it’s a good idea to dig a deeper hole for myself.

Me: Speaking of which, Jackson walked in on me jerking off to gay porn.

Fuck! Phones need a recall feature for sent messages. My phone pings, and I don’t want to look at it.

Miller: Why do you get to have all the fun? I should room with you guys on the road next season.

Wait … is he saying he’d be into walking in on that? Or is he referring to watching Jackson and his boyfriend go at it?

Clarify without me having to ask, you stupid ass.

He doesn’t listen to me. Or I’m not telepathic. One or the other.

Me: Told you I’d rock the gay thing.

I bite my lip, awaiting his response.

Miller: Because watching gay porn totally makes you gay. *Sarcasm*

He adds the eye-rolling emoji.

Me: If you were here, I’d show you just how gay I can be.

Miller: Don’t have to be there to prove it, and I call your bluff.

Me: How am I supposed to prove it when we’re not in the same state?

Surely, he doesn’t want me to hook up with a guy here … Oh, God, that is what he wants. He’s trying to let me down gently. At least, that’s what I think until his next message comes through.

Miller: Video call me.

Oh, fuck.

My finger hovers over the button for a lot longer than it should. I didn’t think he’d call me on it. Although, I should have. It’s Miller.

It’s Miller, I remind myself and come so close to hitting Call. But at the last second, I can’t do it, and I don’t even know why.

Maybe I’ve pushed this too far.

Chapter Ten

MILLER

I have no idea what happened. One minute, Talon’s talking shit that made me think he could’ve been serious about this bi-curious thing, and the next minute, he’s ghosting me.

Our texting was leading somewhere, and then it just died, and now I have no idea what to say to him or where it was heading.

I contemplate calling him to sort it out, and every night for two weeks, after my little niece goes to bed, I stare at my phone, willing it to ring, because I don’t think I have it in me to be the one to make the call.

I think I fucked things up by challenging him. Maybe he’s weirded out that I called him on his shit, because from what I can tell, no one else does.

The biggest reason for not calling for answers is something I don’t want to admit: fear of rejection is crippling.

I never would’ve thought Talon would be the type of person to mess with me, so logic tells me there’s more to it than a simple he was joking.

Was the gay porn a joke too? Did that actually happen or was he playing it up for the challenge I supposedly set for him?

And this is exactly why entertaining any sort of notion about the two of us together is idiotic. Because I will literally drive myself crazy asking all these questions I don’t have any answers to.

The idea of video calling me is too much for him, I guess. Which I should be fine with—I should expect him to freak out. It’s better for him to walk away now before I truly get my hopes up.

Now, after weeks of thinking about nothing but PT and Talon, I can hobble around without crutches, and Jackson’s boyfriend is home to deal with some charity he runs, so he’s taking me to meet his friends in the city.

I find him leaning against his Beemer waiting for me as I limp out my front door. He’s long and lean, and not for the first time, I give Jackson props for his taste in men. Noah’s hot.

“How’s the leg?”

We do the whole man-hug, back-slap thing.

“I’m super drugged up right now, so it feels great.”

Noah laughs. “Guess taking you to a bar is a dumb idea then. Can you even drink?”

“I’m just happy to be out of the house. You have no idea how crowded my mom’s place is. Between my sister living there since her split from her baby daddy, my niece, and my mom, I’m going crazy. I mean, I love them, but, yeah, crazy.”

“Damn.”

Noah rounds his car, and it takes me so long to lower myself into the passenger seat that he’s already buckled up and has the engine revving by the time I even shut my door.

“Sorry. It’s still slow going.”

“Are they sure you’re gonna be okay for next season? You’re moving slower than my grandmother who’s in a nursing home.”

I laugh. “Right now, I feel like a fucking grandmother. Doctors say I should be fully recovered by the time the season’s over, and then I’ve got the off season to recondition. My entire life revolves around physical therapy and not much else.” Except making myself crazy by thinking about Talon incessantly.