Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
I step away and beckon her in. “We’re ready to go.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re both oiled up, practically naked, and being ushered out the side of the house. Wooden decking surrounds a tropical pool, with a rock waterfall and bamboo lounger chairs lining the edge.
A small blonde woman with permanent resting bitch face glares at us. “It’s so nice to meet you both. We were hoping to do this on the beach, but you boys are causing a stir, so we’ll use the pool instead.” Maybe she’s had so much Botox her face literally can’t move anymore. Her words are kind, but her face is frozen. “I’m Callie, I’ll be interviewing you while Lars takes photos.”
Lars, a hot nerd type, stands behind a camera and tampers with the settings as he gives us a quick wave with his free hand.
“Hope everything’s okay?” Callie asks. “One of the PAs said you were bickering and you arrived separately.”
Matt glances around, looking for Damon. He’s supposed to step in when questions that are off-limits are brought up. She hasn’t said the interview has started yet, but that doesn’t matter with most journalists. If you don’t say something is off the record, it’s safe to assume anything you say can and will be held against you in magazine land. I don’t suspect she knows we’re faking it; I get the feeling she wants gossip to post all over the internet.
“Hate to disappoint,” I say, “I was late because Matty made me clean up our room. I’m a slob, and he hates that, even if I did try to get out of it by claiming we’re on vacation.”
“Trouble in paradise?” Callie asks.
I laugh and wrap my arm around Matt’s waist. “Not even close. Just usual couple stuff.”
Matt releases a relieved breath, and Callie taps away on her tablet. It won’t be usable. No one wants to hear about couples arguing over dirty laundry on the floor. Dirty laundry in their relationship however …
“Noah, we’ll have you on the far lounger, lying down,” Lars says from behind his camera. “Matt, you can sit on the front one and face Callie while she asks you questions.”
“Ooh, I get the hard job of sunbaking,” I say.
Lars approaches as I lie down, his eyes raking over me. His thick-rimmed glasses slide down his face, bringing my attention to his full lips, and there’s no mistaking the interest shimmering in his eyes. Normally, I’d be all over that, but that would be a very shitty thing for a boyfriend to do. So, instead of winking at him or asking how he wants me, I cock my eyebrow at him.
“Lift your arm and put it behind your head to rest on.” His voice is gruff. I go to raise my arm when he stops me. “Uh, other arm, the one furthest from the camera. Here, I’ll show you.”
I bet he will.
While Lars maneuvers me into the position he wants, Damon comes out to join us, and Callie starts firing off questions. She doesn’t mind going for the gut punch either.
“So, Matt, how does it feel to be retired?”
Matt tenses but lifts his head toward Damon, who gives Matt a small nod. “Not retired yet,” he says easily. I can’t see his face, but I can imagine a forced smile. “I’m a free agent and looking for offers.”
“There’s controversy surrounding your swift exit from the Bulldogs and rumors about them discriminating against you because you’re gay.”
Not all was lost with Damon’s coaching last night. Matt’s now able to bullshit his way through this question and others like it.
“That had nothing to do with it at all. I was put on warning a month before they decided not to renew my contract. Because I had to hide a big part of me, I wasn’t as open or trusting with my teammates as I should have been. The whole team suffered because of it, and there was no one else to blame but myself. The Bulldogs is a family-oriented team, and they all see the players as their family. I never let them in, and in the end, it meant they wanted more of a team player. Now I don’t have to worry about people finding out, I’m ready to be part of a team again, and I won’t make the same mistakes by keeping secrets.”
“But you had some of the best tight end stats last year.”
I’m surprised they’ve even done their football research.
“That’s not everything,” Matt says. “Football is a team sport.”
“And you evidently played for the wrong team.”
I glance at the woman out the corner of my eye. You’d think someone who worked for a pro-LGBTQ magazine would have more … empathy? It feels like she’s trying to get a rise out of Matt.
Matt doesn’t take the bait, though. Maybe there’s hope we can pull this off.