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“I like the hair,” I told him. He had cornrows in, something I hadn’t seen him wear before.
“Thanks, man. How’s it going?”
We chatted a bit as I drove us to the restaurant. We were doing pizza, which was Andre’s favorite. It was the kind of place where you ordered at the counter, then sat down and waited for them to bring you the food. It wasn’t until we were at the table that I could finally ask him about himself. “How’s school?”
Andre rolled his eyes. “You know me. I’m the smartest in my grade. You don’t have to ask about that.”
“I know, but I also know learning is important to you, so I wanna hear about it. I wish I had been as smart as you at your age.”
Andre beamed, and damned if that didn’t hit me right in the chest. I loved doing this, loved being there in a kid’s life this way.
He rambled about engineering shit that was way over my head. I listened raptly, asking questions and making sure he knew his interests were important.
“I’m so proud of you. You’re going to do amazing things.”
“You’re in the NFL,” he countered.
“Yeah. And I’m damn proud of that, but what you can do is just as incredible, if not more.”
Spending time with Andre was the distraction I needed to keep my mind off waiting for a reply from a certain stubborn football player. We hung out for a little over an hour before I dropped Andre off at home with plans for when we would see each other again.
I was sitting on the couch watching ESPN almost two hours later when my phone finally buzzed on the cushion beside me.
I told myself I didn’t care who it was, but that didn’t explain why I picked my phone up too quickly to see Bougie on the screen.
I also told myself I didn’t care what he said, but if that was the case, why in the fuck was I already opening the message?
Bougie:I already told you, you’re not the only person with a cock.
He was lying. He had to be. Patrick wasn’t the guy to trust anyone with something like that. I’d known him long enough to see that. That didn’t stop the foreign riptide of possessiveness from pulling me out to sea and damn near downing me.
I pressed his name roughly with my thumb. It rang twice before he picked it up. “Why the hell are you calling me, Tucker?”
“Did you let someone else fuck you?”
“You don’t get to call me demanding answers to questions like that. Christ, Tucker. Are you jealous?”
That was a damned good question. Was I jealous? Fuck yes, I was. What I didn’t want to contemplate was why. I sure as shit didn’t want to let him in on the truth either. This was all too much of a mindfuck to be able to make sense of it all. But the thought of someone else getting Whitt’s ass first? Anger burned through me, the possibility that created a backdraft that exploded inside of me.
“Cat got your tongue?” Patrick asked when I went too long without a response.
I’d gone months without getting any, my messed-up thoughts with him, and Patrick had fucked another guy? “I told you that ass was mine.”
“I don’t give a shit what you told me.”
The kicker? He was right. He didn’t have to care what I said, and I had no right to be going all caveman on him, but did whoever it was even know him? They weren’t the one he’d called when his parents had ditched him on Christmas Eve. They weren’t the one who had gotten his first orgasm with a man. They hadn’t been the one to have Patrick writhing and silently begging for his first cock.
But he’d given whoever it was his ass.
“You just growled,” Whitt broke through my thoughts.
“No, I didn’t.”
“I just heard you. Jesus Christ, this is weird. Don’t call me again.”
“Did you like it?” I rushed out before he could hang up. “Was he good to you?”
The line was silent except for the sound of Patrick’s heavy breaths. It stretched out into eternity before there was a quiet sigh, and he said, “I didn’t let anyone fuck me, Malik.”
