Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
You don’t say to a guy you’ve been officially dating only a few weeks “I gave up my dream job on the off chance you and I work out. No pressure! Wanna fuck?”
L.A. might have the type of sports reporting I always thought I’d do, but New York has important networking connections like Damon and a series of articles that mean so much more to me than following baseball on the West Coast. Plus, it has Ollie, and that’s the real selling point. The more time I spend with him, the more I know the truth—I’m stupidly in love with him.
It took a shot or two of scotch and a phone call to Noah for me to make up my mind. I decided almost immediately that I didn’t want to take the L.A. job, but I wanted someone else to tell me I was doing the right thing. Noah said if it was him he wouldn’t take it because nothing was worth leaving Matt for, but it was different for me because Ollie and I aren’t in love.
When I’d opened my mouth to protest but quickly shut it, he’d said “I think you have your answer.”
He knew I was about to defend Ollie and me, and he was right.
Now I just need to tell Ollie.
Damon used his agent connections and managed to score eleven seats for tonight’s game all together in the family section, and we’re all here to support Soren, even Tommy, after getting his ass handed to him by New Jersey in the last round.
Two teams had two gay players in the playoffs this year. That’s an achievement in itself, and we’re all here to celebrate it.
If New Jersey can secure the win over Vegas, we’ll win two for two in the gay athlete coming out only to go on to win the whole season of their sport.
Good luck, Soren.
We find our seats, which are situated over three rows, and I’m surprised to find Matt’s teammates sitting there waiting for us. You’d think being a sports reporter, I’d get used to being around athletes, but Marcus Talon isn’t just an athlete. He’s Marcus Talon—a quarterback god. The next Tom Brady.
Ollie does his hovering-by-my-side thing—giving those I want to touch you so badly vibes I still haven’t gotten used to. If I close my eyes, I can imagine him slipping his hand into mine and holding tight.
We still haven’t come out to the world about our relationship, but it’s not like we’re hiding it too hard. And with the news I’m sitting on, it won’t matter who knows about us soon.
We get settled in our seats, but Maddox turns around from his and Damon’s in front. “By the way, we’re going to hit up that new gay bar in the city afterward if anyone’s interested.”
“Oh, thanks, but we can’t,” I say. “We have that thing.”
Ollie frowns. “What thing?”
“That thing where I don’t want to go.”
Everyone laughs.
“I met you in a gay bar,” Noah says, confused.
“Yes, but that was to find a hookup. I no longer need to do that.” My hand reaches for Ollie’s. “Bar means dancing and that’s a whole bucket of nope for me.”
“Hang out with Miller and Talon,” Ollie says. “Don’t think they’re gonna get down in a gay bar.”
Talon and Miller share matching smirks.
“That’s not a challenge you want to set for Talon,” Miller says. “Trust me on that one.”
He doesn’t get a chance to clarify before Jet’s pulling on my arm from beside me.
“You have to come,” he says, almost panicked.
“Uh, why?”
“Just … because. You have to.”
Something in his urgent tone tells me to agree, but I don’t know why yet.
“Umm, okay,” I say. “Apparently, being a friend means doing things you don’t want to, so for you, I’ll go.”
“Yay, you’re learning,” Jet says and throws his arm around my shoulder for a side hug.
Ollie nudges me. “Besides, I’ve never been to one, so you have to do the boyfriendly thing and make sure to keep all the twinks off your man.”
“If they’re groping you on the dance floor, you’re on your own.” That doesn’t stop that stupid warm and fuzzy feeling attacking when he calls himself my man. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.
“Lennon, calm down. Your possessiveness of me is a little extreme.”
“Sorry.” I link my arm with his. “Please don’t dance with anyone else tonight? I can’t take it when guys fawn all over you.” I also throw in some batted eyelashes for good measure.
“That’s better,” he says.
When the game starts, New Jersey doesn’t hold any punches. Literally and figuratively. They’re out for blood and in it to win. They have more to prove than Vegas.
Three fights break out in the first period alone, yet the scoreboard still reads 0 – 0 by the time it ends.
I think all of us are hoping New Jersey takes the Cup. “Maybe if the first NFL team to have a gay player wins the Super Bowl and the first NHL team with one wins the Stanley Cup, more athletes will be willing to come out. Surely, there’s more than Ollie, Soren, and Matt,” I say to no one in particular.