“Look at it this way, Matt’s and Talon’s right now revolve around football.”
Noah may be good-looking, and I’m sure he’s probably smart, but I don’t think he’s thought that through. He sucks at trying to make me feel better.
“You don’t play any sports, do you?” I ask.
“How’d you know?”
“If you did, you’d know that’s an athlete’s idea of bliss.”
Noah glances at me out the corner of his eye. “Matt sure doesn’t seem happy with football right now. I’m glad I was called back to the city for a few days.”
I pull back. “Huh? Why?”
“Don’t you talk to your teammates?”
“Not really.”
“Not even Talon? Aren’t you two tight?”
I narrow my eyes. “What did Jackson tell you?”
“You sports people and calling everyone by their last name.” Noah shakes his head. “Jackson didn’t tell me anything about you and Talon, but there’s so a story there, and I’m so grilling Matt about that when I get home.”
“Don’t. It’s … nothing. College shit.”
“That’s a long time to hold onto issues,” Noah says.
I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole. “Maybe I could do with a drink after all.”
Noah grins. “Well, this could be interesting.”
By the time we wade through city traffic and find a parking spot relatively close by, I’m ready to stretch the leg, but then two blocks later, I’m out of breath, in pain, and asking Noah to give me a second. I brace myself against the wall of a building. It’s only been a few weeks since the surgery, so I probably shouldn’t be on the leg so much.
“Sorry, I should’ve dropped you off,” Noah says.
“No, no. I’m being a little bitch. I’ll be fine.” I go to walk when Noah gently pushes me back against the wall so I’m no longer putting pressure on my leg again.
“You remind me of Damon.”
Jackson’s agent is an ex-baseball player whose career died when he got injured.
“He was the same as you back in college when he was playing ball. Always pushing, always saying he was fine when he wasn’t. Do I need to remind you where his career went?”
I give in and relax against the wall holding me up. “No.”
“Good. We’re already late to meet them. It won’t kill them to wait a little longer.”
I nod, and then we proceed to stand in complete silence.
Super fun. Not awkward at all.
“So, why is Jackson hating football?” I ask.
He never ended up telling me back in the car.
“Says Talon’s riding everyone hard. Whatever’s up his ass, it’s affecting the whole team.”
That’s probably my fault. I could singlehandedly be responsible for the Warriors not making the playoffs.
“I’ll talk to him when I get home,” I say.
“Because he’ll listen to you?”
“Something like that.”
“There’s so a story there …”
“No story,” I bark, a little too aggressively.
Noah puts his hands up in surrender. “Okay, fine, I’ll drop it.”
“Thank you.”
He rubs his chin. “For now. Maybe you should drink after all. Loose lips can be entertaining.”
“You’re a bad influence.”
“You know, Matt says that all the time. I don’t get it.”
I laugh. “Okay, I’m good to go now.”
But as we continue to walk, I can’t help wondering what Talon’s doing and why he’s been riding the boys hard. I wince at my thoughts, because, of course, I think of Talon and riding guys. Not the team. Just in general.
That’s a nice image.
I need to talk to him.
When we finally arrive at the bar, we make our way over to a table where Damon King and his boyfriend are sitting, too engrossed in each other to sense us approach.
Damon has his arm casually draped over Maddox’s chair and is leaning in to say something in Maddox’s ear. Maddox’s blond hair shines off the neon lighting, but it’s his smile that glows. Both he and Damon are all shiny and happy.
I’ve never seen a more in love couple. Apart from maybe Noah and Jackson. But Noah and Jackson are more primal. I’ve seen the way they look at each other from across a room, like they can’t get home fast enough to tear each other’s clothes off. What I’m seeing in front of me is something just as powerful—actually enjoying each other’s company.
There’s really only been one person I’ve had that with, and suddenly, we’re in a weird place we can’t climb out of because I’m too chickenshit to confront him.
Doesn’t help we’re apart. Or that we left on awkward terms.
I’ve imagined what his touch, his lips, his body pressed against mine would feel like for so long I still can’t believe he kissed me.
Gah. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Maybe coming out with Jackson’s friends was a bad idea. It’s making my brain even more murky when it comes to Talon, which is why I came to New York in the first place—to get away from those thoughts.
Damon notices us first and pulls away from his boyfriend to stand and shake my hand. “Hey, Shane. Good to see you.” I’m about to tell him to call me Miller, when he acknowledges Noah. “Dickwad.”