Page 115 of Watched

His only intent with that question is to dig for any doubt and to give himself a headline. I smile wider. “Does your sexuality affect your journalistic abilities?” Before he can answer, I add, “Being gay does not diminish my talent or my dedication to this sport and my team.”

He stares for a beat, and I nod with a smile, removing myself from the interview.

Fucking bastard.

I push past Rain, who wears a satisfied smile, pride beaming in his dark eyes. Snaking through the crowd and out of the room, I stalk to the closest empty room and throw the door open.

A large closet. How ironic.

I go to throw the door shut behind me, but a large hand lands on it with a ricocheting thud. Rain steps in to turn on the light, locking the door behind him.

I’m aware how weak that just made me look. Cutting the interview short and storming away like a child, I’m shaking, and vomit is thrashing in my throat. I pull my fist back, driving into the brick wall in an attempt to purge some anger. Blood pours from my split knuckle as I pull it back and swing it forward. Before my fist collides, arms wrap around my shoulders, pulling me back into a hard body.

My chest heaves as I thrash in his hold, seething through my teeth. “Fuck off.”

He doesn’t speak, simply holds me tighter.

The warmth of his comfort irritates me, and I hate that him holding me like this allows tears to pool in my eyes. I want to be pissed off, I want to drive my fist into that wall until it’s a bloodied mess, but Rain slides his hand up to cup my cheek, pulling my head to rest against his. I suck in a ragged breath, stumbling back against him. His back hits the wall behind, and we slide down it together to meet the floor.

I hate that he’s witnessing another piece of me fall away.

After at least ten minutes, he helps calm me enough that I can breathe without feeling like I’m suffocating.

“Here,” Rain whispers. I pry open my eyes to see a handkerchief moving to dry my cheeks. Then, he takes my hand, gently cleaning the blood. “You were incredible, baby.” Pulling my hand from his grip, I sit forward to untie the laces of my football boots. “How’s your foot?”

“Fine.”

“You were trying to hide it, but I saw you limping.”

I throw a glare over my shoulder. I hate that I still get that nervous ache in my chest whenever he looks at me. I fucking hate that he’s put me in this situation, and I wish my body would stop betraying my head and acting as though he’s done nothing wrong. My heart’s the ultimate betrayer; the damned thing aches whenever I wake up beside him and witness that same nightmare plaguing his mind. They’re getting worse; he’s begun to physically whisper for help. As much as my mind screams to just let him be, I still find myself taking his hand and stroking his sweaty cheek, trying to pull him out of it.

Rain sighs. “I’m trying to fix this, Rome.”

Elbows rest on my knees as I drop my head between my legs and whisper, “I know.”

He slides out from behind me, extending his hand. “Come on.”

I take his hand and stalk out of the room into the almost empty changing room. Whenever we have an away game, most of us change as quickly as possible and leave. I quickly shower and change into my usual after game outfit and pull on my team jumper, the room now sparse. Lifting my bag, I step toward the door, hearing voices on the other side.

“You’re Rain Weston, right?” a deep voice asks.

“Who’s asking?” Rain deadpans.

Draping my bag over my shoulder, I step closer to the door.

“I saw the photos of you and Rome.” His voice lowers seductively. “If you two ever want to share someone, just let me know. I can give you my number.”

Rain snorts out a laugh and by the way they chuckle softly, I can tell they believe Rain’s considering it… Is he considering it?

“Get out of my face,” Rain demands.

“But—” He cuts himself off when I swing the door open. His hand reaching for Rain freezes mid-air, and my chest heaves as I step between them and pinch his leather jacket between my fingers like it’s a dirty tissue. Light green eyes and buzzed blond strands. Did he think he could be my replacement? That if I refused to participate in a threesome, maybe Rain would want him instead? All because fucking what? He kind of, no, barely even resembles me?

“Hands. Off.” I throw his arm away. “Filthy.”

He scoffs. “You’re an asshole.”

“He made himself clear.” I stare down at him. “And I don’t fucking share.”