Blindsided (Fake Boyfriend #4)(4)

“I guess that’s for the best,” Talon says. “Maybe we should get them to sign NDAs beforehand.”

I snort. “Hey, ladies, you can’t see my dick until I see a signature. Classy as fuck.”

Talon laughs.

“But that won’t matter anyway. It, uh, shouldn’t happen again.”

Talon slumps. “Not you too.”

“You’ve seen what the media has put Jackson through the last few months. Can you imagine if this got out? People are freaking out because he has a guy in his bed. One guy. What will they think when they find out what we’re doing? We’re not in college anymore, NDAs aren’t foolproof, and if the league—”

“It’s not like we’re … like Jackson.”

“Gay, you mean? You think the media will care about technicalities? You and I have shared a bed on more than one occasion. Yes, there are other people involved, and to us, it’s not a big deal, but I don’t think that makes it any less scandalous. It probably makes it more.” I won’t mention contemplating taking magician classes to make the girls disappear—that’s a whole other issue.

“Okay, I get it, but it still sucks. We should be able to do whatever the hell we want off the field.”

I scoff. “How about you whine to Jackson about that. He’ll probably punch you out after what he’s been through.”

Being the first out guy in the league, Jackson hasn’t had it easy.

I go to walk out of the bathroom but pause in the doorway. I shouldn’t ask, but the question comes out anyway. “Would you really want a relationship with more than one person? Like … a permanent arrangement?”

My heart stutters, preparing for an answer I’m not sure I want. A yes would give me hope there was some sort of future with him, but it would also mean I’d continue to make the same mistakes again and again, and nothing between us would change. I’d still be with him but not with him.

“What, not for you?”

The fact Talon’s deflected and hasn’t answered my question isn’t lost on me.

I shake my head. “Nah, I couldn’t do it. Like you said, this is fun and all, but if I was serious about someone, it’d be just them.”

“Oh, to have that type of attention span,” Talon says with wistfulness in his tone.

I can’t help laughing at the big idiot, and now I’m back where I was six years ago—in his bed but not allowed to touch him. And until last night, I was blissfully unaware of how much I’ve missed him.

Talk about fucking torture.





Chapter Three





TALON





Miller is ignoring me. Me. None of my other friends could get away with that, but Miller’s not like anyone else in my life. He’s … I don’t know what he is. He’s like a brother to me, but that label feels wrong—especially after the shit we’ve done.

I haven’t seen him since the night we took those two women home, and it’s been weeks. It hasn’t been for lack of trying on my part. I haven’t doubted myself this much since I was a freshman and actually had to work to get a girl’s attention, and I don’t know why it’s getting to me so much.

I had expectations signing with the Warriors. Miller and me back together again, us against the world, and winning the Super Bowl and living out our almost decade-long fantasy of holding that trophy up together.

It’s always been the dream, so I don’t know why he’s not the same Miller I knew in college.

Granted, we haven’t really known each other these past six years, but we made a pact his freshman year. It was gonna be us.

Now there’s a chance for it to happen, and he’s blowing me off, and I don’t know why.

Today, he can’t avoid me because it’s the first day of training camp, and if he thinks I won’t call him on it, then he doesn’t know me at all.

We don’t have to be attached at the hip, but if he’s pulling away because he regrets what we did, I may have to slap him upside the head.

It was just sex. Really hot, awesome sex. But it didn’t mean anything, and it’s not like we touched or nothin’, so I don’t know why he’s being weird about it. It’s nothing new for us. I know he’s worried the press will find out, and that’ll bring a shitstorm upon the team—the team who currently pays me waaay too much to throw around a football—and when I think about it like that, it probably was a mistake to risk it all for an orgy. That still doesn’t explain why he’s avoiding me though. It won’t happen again. No big deal.

After enduring the mother of all press conferences kicking off training camp, Jackson and I are sent to the stadium to meet the rest of the team on the field.

Jackson and I are the only dipshits in suits thanks to the press conference, and DeShawn notices immediately.

“Nice tie.” He nudges me. It takes me off guard, and I stumble, because I’m too distracted by wondering why Miller isn’t even looking at me.

“Hey, careful with the merchandise. Jackson and I are precious,” I say. Because, well, I’m me, and I can’t help it.

“Precious is one word for it,” Miller mumbles.

His mocking snaps the tension between us, and I throw my arm around his giant shoulders and try to get him in a headlock.