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DUCKIE: Do you think I could slip some into Mom’s bag without her seeing them?
JASE: You got kicked out of your dorm the last time you did this.
DUCKIE: Not like they can kick me off the ship.
He has a point. The last time was pretty fucking funny, too. Jase tormented his roommates by putting random rubber ducks everywhere. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands by the time it went to the tribunal. Turns out there is no rule against having a ton of rubber ducks in the communal spaces, but because he hid some inside their things, they managed to get him kicked out. Only out of the dorm, not the school. He got a place off campus, and I came and stayed with him for my senior year of college. It was the best year of my life.
Duckie and I met the summer he was adopted by the Grants.Our whole family is super close, and because we’re the same age, almost down to the day, he’s Junethirdand I’m Junefifth, we grew up practically brothers.
My phone chimes again.
MOM: Hi, honey. I know you said you were not coming on the reunion cruise, but it looks like if you do come, we will have a full house for the first time. Can you believe it? We might get every member of our goofy extended family in one place. I can ring the cruise line and get you the biggest room they have left, with a balcony, and one that feels the sea the least. Let me know soon, okay? xoxo Mom.
Another chime.
TERRY: I’ll need you to attend an important meeting for me on the twenty-seventh. I need your word that you’ll make it. There are a lot of people who will be affected if you don’t.
Yes. That’s right in the middle of the four-day cruise. I quickly message him back.
JASE: Not a problem. I’m your guy. Where is this meeting?
I go to message Duckie that I can’t get out of work when Terry replies.
TERRY: The North Atlantic. I booked your ticket. We depart on the twenty-fifth. I’ll send a car.
Motherfucker.
I message Duckie and Mom back to tell them Terry has taken care of everything and that I’ll be coming after all. Mom’s happy. Duckie’s downright ecstatic.
Another message comes through, and I’m about to flick my phone to silent and throw it on the sofa when I spot the name.
Parker Fucking Lane. And yes, I did save it as exactly that in my contacts.
PARKER FUCKING LANE: I’m heading to the gym and can drop off your bag after I’m done if you like.
I don’t want him coming here. Seeing this place. As a fairly new agent with Grant Sports Management, I make okay money, and although Terry said I could stay in one of the apartment buildings the company owns, I want to make it on my own. So I rent this shit box of a studio and save whatever I can. That was the other reason I didn’t want to go on the trip. Mom and Dad would have paid, but with everything that hit the theater these last few years, what with the lockdowns and rate rises, they’ve only just started to perform consistently again, and I know those months without work ate into their savings.
JASE: That’s okay. I can pick it up. What time do you think you’ll be home?
PARKER FUCKING LANE: About seven. If you don’t have plans, maybe you could stay for dinner? I can cook again. It can be my thank you for last night.
My stomach flips as I read the message over again. He wants to say thanks. Thanks for what, though? Thanks for taking him dancing and drinking, or thanks for grinding my ass up and down his body? I know he enjoyed it. I could feel his erection through the fabric of our pants, but that just happens when you’re grinding on someone. Unless they drag you into the bathroom or back to their place, it’s just a byproduct of the evening. But Parker did ask me back up to his place. I bailed. I should message back that I have plans and will not be able to stay for dinner.
I should do that. But the truth is, I wish he had dragged me into the bathroom at the club or up to his place. I would have done things to him—No. Stop. Client and agent, remember? Fuck, this is going to be torture. Why couldn’t I be given a player I don’t want to jump, instead of one of the hottest guys in the fucking NFL?
He’s different from what I expected, too. Different from what the media portrays. He’s sweet. He wants to look after his family, and he thinks if anything about his personal life is in the media, it will ruin his chances at a big contract. And it shouldn’t be all about the money, but with his brothers—fucking triplets, no thank you—all in college, that’s a shit load of tuition and general living expenses. I don’t know how he handles the pressure of it all, to be honest.
I decide to do a web search for Parker Lane Cleveland NFL. I tell myself it’s because I want to see if there are any leads for possible brand connections, but I’m immediately hit with images of him, and I know why I really wanted to do the search.
I click on one of him in a tux and fuck if he isn’t the sexiest man in a tux I’ve ever seen. He doesn’t look happy to be wherever he is in the shot. He’s wearing a half smile like he wants to run away. Maybe he did. The caption reads,Parker Lane of Cleveland arrived solo to the ceremony, and when asked why he didn’t bring a date stated, “I thought I would just Clooney it.”
Ha! He does know Clooney is settled down with kids now, right?
Maybe if he did take a date, he wouldn’t want to leave these things so quick? We danced forhoursat the club. It felt like it was over in no time, but it was amazing. He should be able to have a life outside of football.
I wonder what his brothers think about him keeping who he is quiet for them?
Chapter 6
