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His mouth drops once more, eyes bugged out, and a delicious blush spreads through his cheeks as he stares at me silently. I decide to take pity on him and move the conversation along. Why not go all in?
“So, are we doing this, or do you have any more warnings for me?”
Man, it’s good to feel like I’m twenty again.
Truly reckless.
* * *
The evil cacklecoming through the speakers of my burner phone has me smirking. Since I decided to act like I’m still in college and don’t have the weight of the world on my shoulders, I thought I’d keep my momentum going by reviving another long-lost tradition.
Gossiping about every single detail with my best friend. Gabrielle Darnell—though if she hears anyone call her anything other than Gab or ma’am she’ll cut them down with a look—the smartest person alive, a shark, and an amazing leader, has been one of my best friends since our freshman year at Harvard. Chase, Gab, and I were thick as thieves from day one.
“Harry, you fucking asshole, you did not!” Gab screams, still chuckling. “That poor boy.”
“Oh, he’s not a boy, I can promise you that.”
“You’re actually thinking of doing this? Fucking around with your fake boyfriend?”
“Yes, I am. I know you’re not an emotionless robot, Gab. That you don’t feel sexual attraction doesn’t mean you can’t see when someone is drop-dead gorgeous, and Tristan Jones is one fine-looking man. You can’t deny it. I just sent you pictures of him.” I stand from the same couch I sat on with Tristan a few hours ago and go pour myself a drink. I’ve been on the phone for an hour with her while I get ready for the gala. I have to leave so I can pick Tristan up in thirty minutes, so now I’ll sit, relax, and enjoy this feeling. It’s the best feeling in the world, when you find someone you want to fuck, and the chase begins. Not that Gab knows it, or well, she knows it only through me. Being ace and aro means she’s not even remotely interested except for when it’s about other people and only because of the gossip. This is the base that holds our thirty-year-long friendship up after all.
If all her employees or the media only knew the way she reveres a good tea-spilling session, well, they’d be shocked for sure.
We really shit the bed when we both bought NFL teams ten years ago and the sales were announced to the world one right after the other. We couldn’t talk about it, of course, while the deals were being struck. We’d both signed confidentiality contracts and handfuls of NDAs. The years before, we’d kept in contact but it’s not like our friendship was public knowledge or anything. We’re college friends who have watched each other become parents, become adults. And we always revert to childish gossiping queens when we talk.
Now, since we can’t actually be close thanks to NFL rules and whatnot, we sadly have to hide our friendship and can only talk through our burner phones and see each other in secret. The NFL frowns heavily on owners meeting in any way outside of the official meetings regulated by them. So we can, and have, seen each other in social settings. The Superbowl we won almost three years ago was one, then her nephew’s wedding. Adam Darnell is my star quarterback and the best friend of my future son-in-law, so he’s part of my life.
I’m perpetually in secret relationships apparently. Even our children don’t know we’re best friends. Her twin daughters spent four years in the City going to Columbia but finally moved to Boston to go to grad school at Harvard. So it’s become a bit easier since I don’t have to constantly act all mysterious and shit around them whenever they are hanging out with Iris. Those three became very close during their time here since I always let them join us in the owner's box at the stadium so they could watch their cousin play. I also may have hinted that I did it so Gab saw her daughters in another stadium with another team’s jerseys on every other Sunday. We both had a lot of fun sending each other jabs through our children.
No one can know the truth, except my security team and hers. It’s better that way.
“I’ve seen him before, actually,” she tells me, and I can tell from her tone she was waiting for the perfect moment to release this very important piece of information.
“What? When?”
“He’s Sterling’s new PR dude after the fiasco last year. The Storm brothers recommended him. And it was Zoe and Tristan who got Jules and Sterling out of the shithole his previous PR people couldn’t deal with. He’s smart, that’s all I know for sure. His sister though…”
“Yeah, she’s intense. She reminds me of you actually. Like a shark who just smelled blood.”
“Awww, you say the nicest things.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“So… you’re really going for it, huh?”
“I am, I want to have some fun, Gab.” I sigh heavily and she waits me out, she’s probably the one person who always gets the truth out of me, and having her to unload all my shit on is a huge relief. “Theo and Iris are okay now. I feel like they don’t need me anymore.”
“They’ll always need you, Harry. I still need my Dad and you’re still a mama's boy. You never stop needing your parents.”
“I know, I know, but it’s different. They’re both settled now, and I’m sure Iris will need me some in the coming years, but I don’t have to worry about either of them, so…”
“So you’re ready to have something that’s only yours. I get it, I mean, not in the same way exactly, but I did buy a hockey franchise when my babies flew the nest.”
“You did.” I laugh. “I don’t need another sports team, thank you very much.”
“No, you’re a simple man, Harry. All you need is to get laid regularly.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
