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“Yarro, I’m serious. The rivalry is a writing thing only. A competition to see who can get more hits and build more buzz. I’m not fucking a player.”
A woman makes a sort of gasp noise, and I look up. Shit, I’ve walked out to reception and more than one person’s eyes are now on me.
My cheeks flame, and I hurriedly walk outside.
“I swear.”
Still, silence. I wait for him to speak because if I know anything about my editor, it’s that he hates when people repeat themselves over and over.
“Their piece did create an uptick in hits on our socials,” he finally says, his tone way better than a minute before.
“See, it’s doing what it’s supposed to. They just got off base with the whole love triangle thing. I have no idea where they even got that idea. Totally fabricated bullshit. It’s what those gossip column scum writers pedal all the time. Anything for a story, even if it’s not true. Even if it fucks up other people’s lives. They don’t give a shit.”
“I don’t want to have to send someone else out there.”
“You don’t have to.”
“If management complains, I might not have a choice.”
“But they won’t because it’s all bullshit.”
Another pause. If he pulls me off this tour, I’ll never get back to hockey. I’ll be stuck in an office writing captions for graphics of games I should be attending. Of sports, I should be writing about. This can’t happen.
“Reports show your recent videos are building on our subscribers. It would be a shame to lose that. Okay, you can stay on tour, but be careful. If I get even one complaint from the league, you’re back here on the next flight.”
Even the mention of flying sends a swirl in my gut.
“I’ve got a heap more videos planned. The choreographer is totally on board with me participating more.”
“Right, well get to it then,” Yarro says, and the line goes dead.
Yarro believed I could be sleeping with a writer and a player. I mean, sure, I’m sleeping with a writer, but it has nothing to do with the rivalry and the whole love triangle thing, as if. But he believed it, even knowing all the writers and players were men, he believed it might be true. Have I been giving off bi vibes this whole time? Are bi vibes even a thing? My phone chimes just as I get to the table.
IAN: Are you okay?
I can’t help but smile. Even after everything. It was mean, but I knew he had no idea who Carter was when he saw him in our room this morning, and though I could have introduced them then, I didn’t want to. When he left me at that club, I was mad. He said he had a headache, and I guess that could have been true, but he could have given me the choice to come home when he did, not just assume I was happy to stay out being hit on by random men. I guess when he saw Carter, I wanted him to be jealous. It backfired though because he acted like it was nothing.
BRENDAN: Do you care?
IAN: Seriously?
I glance over at Ian, staring at his phone waiting for my reply, but I have no idea what to write back. Do I tell him the truth? Do I tell him that when he left me at the club it felt like he didn’t care about me at all? Carter was mad Ian left me there, too. So mad, he first threatened to come right over, but he didn’t think that Ian was trying to pawn me off onto someone else because he was sick of me or didn’t care about me. But I don’t see how it could be anything else.
“What time does the bus leave?” I ask, taking a sip of my now cold coffee.
“About twenty minutes,” Sherman replies.
“Great, enough time for another coffee from the place around the corner. Anyone want one?” I offer as I stand.
I jot down their requests in a note on my phone and head out. When I reach the cafe, a hand presses against the small of my back.
“I care,” Ian whispers, leaning in close to my ear. “Probably too much.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, turning to face him. His face is flushed like he’s been running.
The girl at the counter clears her throat. “Can I take your order?” she asks.
Ian nods in her direction, and I shake my head, turn from him, and list the orders off, adding Ian’s black coffee to the list, though he didn’t ask for anything, and then we move to the side to wait by the windows.
