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Me:You celebrating tonight?
I was home in Denver, hanging out at my place. We hadn’t played today, and I’d sat around watching the Royals game with Andre, but his mom had picked him up in the third quarter. Jesus, if any of the guys had seen me, I’d have been embarrassed as shit about how I was hoping for something good for Patrick. How I’d wanted him to win and the buoyancy that had filled my chest when he’d made that interception and taken it all the way to the end zone for a touchdown. I wasn’t supposed to want his team to do well, only I did, and I sure as shit shouldn’t have felt fucking giddy about it, only that had been the case, too.
Luckily, Andre hadn’t noticed anything.
I glanced at my phone again, looking for a response that hadn’t come. It had only been a couple of minutes, but eagerness made my muscles twitch, which was fucked-up beyond belief.
Leaving my phone behind, I went into the other room to get on my treadmill. The thirty minutes I ran ticked by slowly while I tried to pretend I wasn’t anxious to get back and see if Patrick had replied. He was messing with my head in a way I wasn’t sure what to think of.
Sweat made my eyes sting before I wiped it away. I did a slowdown, then ended my jog. I told myself I wasn’t going back to check my phone, but I was a fucking liar because that’s exactly where I went. It still sat face down on the arm of my couch. When I turned it over, I saw his name at the bottom of the screen and…Jesus fuck. Why was I smiling? This motherfucker was getting me twisted.
Bougie:LaForge is trying to feed me all the alcohol in Vegas. Might celebrate by getting my dick wet.
Every muscle in my body went tight in an uncomfortable way, jealousy spreading through my bloodstream like a virus. The thought of someone else touching Patrick made my gut clench up and my stomach rumble.
Me:No.
Bougie:You’re mistaken if you’re under the impression you have a say in who I fuck or not.
He was right. Of course, he was. We weren’t anything to each other—not really. Hell, it hadn’t been long since I realized I didn’t hate him. This wasn’t some in-the-moment sex thing where I told him he was mine…it was more. It was uncalled for. Still, I couldn’t stop myself.
Me:I told you before, I want you. I don’t want anyone else to touch you until I’ve had my fill.
Bougie:Because you’re not fucking other people, either?
Me:No. I haven’t. Not since before the night at the Montrose party.
And then…nothing. An hour went by where I didn’t hear from him. I told myself it didn’t matter, that it was better this way. That I could still fuck Patrick if he had sex with someone else because I did that shit all the time. That was the name of the game, but then why did my chest feel so tight? Why did it feel like the weight of the whole fucking world sat right on my sternum, making it hard to breathe?
I showered and got into bed, telling myself I wasn’t going to check my phone again, but then it buzzed, my fingers too twitchy not to reach for it.
Bougie:You were watching my game.
That’s what he had to say to me after I admitted I hadn’t been with anyone else but him? Had he gone home with someone? Did he spend the last hour between the legs of a beautiful woman and then go back to his hotel to message me?
Me:Where are you?
Translation:Who are you with?
Bougie:Christ, Tucker. I didn’t fuck anyone tonight. I came back to the hotel.
I grinned, and before I could send a message, another came through from Patrick.
Bougie:I don’t believe you…that you haven’t been with anyone else.
Jesus, this guy. He was so fucking cocky in a million ways. It was what he showed to the world, and part of that was real, but it also wasn’t…not completely. Again, these were the parts of Patrick that were real, all the secrets he shared with me that made him who he was.
Me:I haven’t. I don’t want anyone other than you. It’s annoying as shit.
And then, because I thought he needed to hear it, I added:
Me:I always watch you play. It’s sexy—how fluidly you move, how light on your feet you are. It gets my dick hard, but fuck, Patrick, even more than that, you’re just good.
The admission wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Maybe before I knew him, before I realized that as badass as he was, and no matter how many people told him, I didn’t think he heard it from anyone who mattered. His parents weren’t proud of him. They didn’t see how hard he worked or what he had accomplished because all they cared about was their business and him not being a part of it.
I let myself breathe while I watched, waiting for a response. It didn’t surprise me that it didn’t come right away, but this time, I knew it was because he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to let himself feel things.
It was less than five minutes later, though, when my cell lit up.
