Blindsided (Fake Boyfriend #4)(71)

Chapter Twenty-Six





MILLER





Talon and I converge on poor Lennon while the others hit the dance floor. That Soren guy is sitting at our high-top table, but his gaze is firmly planted on Ollie who’s dancing with Jackson’s little brother. The tabloids are pushing for Soren and Ollie to get together, but from what I’ve seen tonight, Ollie and Lennon seem solid. Public I-love-yous give that impression.

While I know Talon and I can’t have that relationship yet, we are taking steps to get there. I keep flip-flopping between wanting to do it and running the other way. We went from knowing this can’t happen to organizing coming-out interviews in what feels like the blink of an eye.

And I don’t know if I’m ready.

But we’re here now, there was no paparazzi outside the bar, and this Lennon guy is right in front of us.

“Hey.” I push a drink in front of him. “For you.”

His eyes widen behind thick-rimmed glasses. “Thank you.”

“So, the Sports Illustrated thing,” Talon says. “That’s cool.”

Lennon’s face lights up. “It’s been my dream to write these kinds of articles ever since becoming a reporter, and it’s awesome they’re letting me do these editorial pieces. It’s a brand-new avenue for the magazine. They’re going to be more personal and call out industry problems when it comes to LGBTQ players, so it’s an honor to be involved.”

Score one for Lennon.

Talon and I share a glance.

I nod. “It’s important, that’s for sure.”

Lennon’s eyes get a sad shine to them. “Matt said what’s been going on with the team behind his back. It’s annoying it’s still an issue.”

“Yup.” My throat goes dry, because it’s one of those things, isn’t it? It’s something we’re supposed to accept, but it’s a hard pill to swallow. To be with the person I love, I have to take measures to make sure I don’t lose my job over it.

And until the meeting we had with Damon, I hadn’t thought of everything else to consider either—like the Warriors’ ticket sales. They were steady this past year after Jackson came out, but we had a really good season. What will happen when the news gets out that we not only play for the same team, but we … play for the same team, so to speak?

Lennon stares at me as if he said something, but I’d tuned out.

“Sorry, what?”

“How’s your recovery going?”

I go to answer when I think better of it. “Off the record?”

“That bad? I promise it’s off the record. I technically don’t have a job right now. Well, I do, but it’s for Ollie’s team doing press releases. The Sports Illustrated gig is freelance, and it’s restricted to queer men in sports, so you’re safe.” He winks.

“I, uh, well, yeah …”

He must confuse my stammering for a recovery issue. Not the second thing. “I’m sorry. It must suck not playing. Do you think you’ll be ready for the season?”

If I’m honest with myself, no. I’m not where I should be, and I’m nowhere near where I was this time last year leading into training camp, but like I’ve been doing with Talon, I keep face. “I’ll make sure I’m ready.”

Because what else can I say? What else can I think? I can rehab for another year and hope to be picked up next season as a free agent when my contract runs out, or I can beg and plead with the Warriors’ management team to sign me again, but I need to show them I’ll be physically capable of doing the job.

“I’m depressing you,” Lennon says. “Sorry.”

“All good.” I glance over at Talon again, and he nods toward Lennon with a smile. Guess he approves then.





*



Something doesn’t feel right. I don’t know what, but I wake with a knot in my stomach and the dreaded feeling that what we’re doing today is too soon. Or wrong. Or we haven’t thought it through properly.

I tell myself it’s nerves. Coming out to the world is a big deal, and we didn’t think it was going to happen this soon. Or at all. I mean, it’s not like we’re actually coming out today—we’re just doing an interview that Lennon is supposed to sit on until we’re okay with releasing it. But Talon went from talking about doing it in years to doing it soon, and now it feels like it’s right this second. I’ve been hesitant but on board, but I’m wondering if that’s only because it’s been an idea, not an actual plan. Maybe I’ve been thinking it wasn’t going to happen at all. Because faced with the reality of it, it’s becoming too much.

Too much pressure. Too much of a risk. Just … too much too soon.

Damon and Talon’s agent, Alan, have organized for our interview to happen in a hotel suite in Manhattan, and it’s all been very hush-hush. I don’t think Lennon even knows why he’s coming today.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Talon’s agent asks him. I want to answer No, I’m not! But he’s not talking to me. They’re huddled in the corner of the high-end hotel room whispering to each other as if I can’t hear them. Newsflash: I can. And their conversation makes the knot in my stomach tighten. “This is risky.”