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“You think it would hurt your reputation with fans if they make it seem like you’re bitter about your punishment.”
It was hard to admit, but that was exactly what had crossed my mind. I’d just developed a reputation beyond douchebag, and it was nice to get a few thousand less insults from fans. Everyone thinks that shit doesn’t weigh on athletes, but it can. At the end of the day, it was the sport I loved. The sport that had saved me. But it sucked to get constant hate from people who claimed to love it as much as I did.
“I just don’t feel like getting dragged now that everyone has laid off me. They’d make it out like I’m talking trash because I don’t think I should have been punished. Which isn’t true at all.”
“Okay.”
I could almost see Noah’s nod through the phone. The way he would press his thumb against his lower lip, eyes narrowing, as the gears in his head churned.
“When are they coming to shadow you?”
“We didn’t set a time yet. Do you think I should do it?”
“You’re asking me?”
“Who else would I ask?”
“Your agent? Simeon or Marcus?”
“She already gave me the go ahead, and they’re traveling.”
“What about Max?” Noah cleared his throat. “He’s a model, isn’t he? He might have opinions about this type of thing.”
I paced farther to the end of the hall. “I’m not calling Max, and I don’t give a shit about his opinion. He only talks to me when he wants to get dicked out.”
“Call?” Noah’s voice was a little too casual. “I thought he was there.”
I halted my pacing and stared at the stretch of windows across from where I now stood on the landing of the staircase. It would have been easy to dismiss all traces of hope that I’d ever get another shot with Noah after our conversation on Friday night, but I’d held on. It hadn’t been all me that night. He’d kissed me just as hard and pinned his body against mine just as insistently. But I hadn’t expected him to really feel some type of way about me seeing Max, even though I’d childishly hoped he’d be jealous.
“Why’d you think that?”
“Because you said he wanted to come over.” A pause. “And you posted a picture of yourself on Instagram looking pretty satisfied this morning.”
He had a point there. On a whim, I’d snapped an unfiltered picture of myself in bed. Shirtless, mouth lifted in a slight smirk. It was the type of shit Noah had insisted I do to keep my new followers entertained. Maybe he also wanted to humanize me.
“I was, but not because of Max.” How much to say without going back on my promise? For so many years I’d lived my life being brutally honest regardless of the outcome. This new thing, this picking-and-choosing-my-words thing, was tripping me up. There weren’t very many ways I could say I had that smile on my face because I’d dreamt about fucking you to sleep. Not because of Max, without crossing our new boundaries. “You could say I’d just woken up from a real nice dream. About someone.”
He didn’t answer at first, and I wondered if I’d pushed it too far, even being that vague. Or maybe I’d misread his tone, and there hadn’t been a hint of jealousy after all. Maybe this entire flirtation was in my head, and Noah had just wanted to make out with a fucking athlete. He wouldn’t be the first one.
“I think you should do the interview,” he said, and hung up.
Nice.
I needed to learn to keep my mouth shut.
***
Since I had nothing on my schedule, I said Spence could come by the mansion as early as the following Friday. He lived in Brooklyn, so he said he’d show up around noon. I worked out like a maniac all morning, and nervously gulped down my protein shake while Noah looked on.
“Why did you agree to do this?”
“Because every one of you said it was a good idea.”
He pointed at me with a jam-covered butter knife. “I do think it’s a good idea to remind people you’re waiting to get your starting spot back, and to maybe try to reclaim your reputation, but not if it means you’re going to be this anxious.”
“I’m not anxious.”
Noah pursed his lips. “I know we don’t normally sit here and gab, but it’s not usually this kind of dismal silence. I can actually hear that gunk sliding down your throat.”
“I thought we weren’t supposed to flirt with each other,” I said.
“Funny.”
“Ha ha.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and dropped the container on the counter. “This whole thing is fucking up my head. Ever since we set the time, I’ve been overthinking all the ways I might say things wrong and all the ways they’ll twist it into something else.”
