Page 32 of Coaching Prince Charming

“Was that whiskey you had the other night?” Carter asked.

The fact that I feared he would ask me for a glass of whiskey was a terribly pointed example of the age gap between us. “Yes,” I said carefully.

“You should have some,” Carter said matter-of-factly. “I really like the smell of it.”

A shudder passed through my chest, but as it calmed down, I realized it wasn’t anything other than the flutters of anticipation. I wanted him again. This brief, brilliant kiss was enough to seduce me into obedience to a nineteen-year-old. It was enough to make me want to give everything up just to have him again.

I poured myself two fingers of whiskey over the ice and turned to Carter. “Let’s get comfortable.”

He grinned. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” He reached for the top button of his light gray shirt, which had a small, dark pattern splattered over the fabric. When I laughed and shook my head, he shrugged and lifted his glass instead.

We settled in the living room on the long sofa. Despite so much room, we found ourselves inches apart, turning so that we faced one another. The entire right side of my torso was leaning against the back of the sofa, my eyes on Carter, my right leg folded under my ass.

“You wanted to talk about things,” Carter reminded me gently. I could hear a tiny note of anxiety in his tone.

I nodded. The fact that I made him nervous was killing me, but we had to establish some rules and clear some things up. “I’m thirty-eight,” I said clumsily, and Carter rolled his eyes.

“I’ve read your Wikipedia, Nate. I know how old you are.” He took a sip of his Coke while looking at me. After he swallowed, he spoke again. “I have never been attracted to someone my age, okay? You can be fifty for all I care. I like men who had some time to find themselves.”

If he thought I’d found myself by this age, he was in for a disappointment, but I didn’t digress. “And you see nothing wrong with this?” I asked instead.

“Not a thing,” he assured me. “If it weren’t you, it would be someone like you.”

I breathed in and out slowly. “That doesn’t solve the real issue.”

“My dad?” Carter asked.

It felt like a needle stabbed me right through my heart, but I shook my head. “It’s not that, Carter. Don’t get me wrong, Dana wouldn’t be happy.” Won’t be, I corrected myself. I hesitated, wondering how to approach this.

Carter watched me anxiously, sipping his Coke twice in the time it took me to find the right way to start.

“Let me be absolutely honest with you,” I said. “I like you, Carter. I find you attractive. I think you’re hella smart and funny. And your talent for music is breathtaking.”

“That’s a good start,” Carter said with a small smile. “But there’s a ‘but.’”

I clenched my teeth and watched the rising disappointment in his eyes. I would have told him immediately that we didn’t need to give this up, but I couldn’t go in that direction. He had to have a clear way out after I said the things I had to say. I continued as gently as I could. “I’m not a regular guy. You know that. I’ve been famous for longer than I had been an anonymous nobody. Being in the spotlight is like saying hello. And turning up the charm for others to admire is second nature to me. You have to know this, Carter, because you wouldn’t be the first person to be blinded by the things I wanted everyone to see. It’s what I was taught to do. When I was much younger, I had an entire team of advisors teaching me exactly how to smile to take a breath away. They wanted me to break a million hearts because I was young, good-looking, and had a camera-friendly face. My first manager put me in front of every microphone and camera he could find.” I paused. Carter’s expression grew ever so slightly darker, his lips pressed a little tighter, and his gaze never moved from my face. “What I’m trying to say is that I can’t control this. My instinct is to hide a lot of things about myself and only show the stuff people want to see. Stuff that makes people like me and admire me…” Crush on me and fall in love with me. I avoided saying those words. “But there’s more to me than that. I flirt with alcohol when times are tough. I’m not a drunk, but I don’t shy away from a few shots of whiskey when I sit here all alone. And this summer’s been the hardest in my life since I was a broke kid getting bullied for wearing my hand-me-downs from my big brother.” I snorted to conceal how badly the taste still lingered in my mouth from thirty years ago.

Carter nodded slowly and licked his lips as if he would speak.

I hurried to take away his chance. “I also know that I’ve been sold to generations of people as something everyone wanted, Carter.” My voice was regretful, even after I tried to make it firm. “Countless girls were infatuated with me over the years. Just check my inboxes and you’ll see for yourself. They saw this popular, beloved athlete who cracked jokes at press conferences and acted like he had his shit together. But that was what we wanted to show to the world. It’s not real.”

Carter sighed audibly enough to make me stumble over my words. “Are you done?”

“As a matter of fact, no,” I said, annoyed that he was so dismissive. I should have controlled myself a little better than that because the words that followed were far less diplomatic. “I don’t want to use you just because you find that guy from the magazine covers attractive, Carter. I’m not him. I’m a fucked-up man with more regrets than he can count. And I don’t plan to add you to that pile.”

Silence.

Carter frowned at me like I’d said something terrible. I didn’t want to give him up, but I wouldn’t drag him by the nose on account of my old, neatly curated glory. If he wanted me, he would have to have the whole messy package.

Finally, Carter set his glass on the coffee table and cocked his head in a judgmental way. “You’re doing it again,” he said without bothering to keep the accusation out of his voice. “You’re acting like I’m some stupid kid who doesn’t know how these things work.”

I opened my mouth to disagree.

“Let me talk now,” he said, and I snapped my mouth shut. “Did you forget where I grew up, Nate? You spent a lot of time at my dad’s place. You have to remember the vultures waiting outside his gates to snap any photo of him that they can to unravel the mystery that Dana Prince used to be. I’m not blind. I know what fame is like, and I know who you are. Not the sexiest man of the year, nor the winger, Nate Partridge. But Nathan. The poor kid, the upstart, the one who got lucky to strike a friendship with my dad that opened all those doors early on. Do you think I don’t remember you crediting my dad with all your success? I know you.”

Even if he gave me a chance to speak now, he had left me speechless.

“I know that you’re shy, actually, and that you’re humble. I know how much you doubt yourself. And I absolutely know the ugly side of fame. So, no, Nate. I’m not blinded by the inflated brand image. And screw you for thinking that I am.” He paused for only a heartbeat for this jab to land. It punched me in the stomach, almost kicking all the air out of me. “I like you. I like the way you look, the way you smell, and the way you stand up for me, even when you think you’re just doing the right thing and that it doesn’t mean anything. I think you’re the hottest guy ever, and not because I have some wrinkled old magazine cover to look at.” He blinked faster, his cheeks heating up. “If you really think I’m so empty-headed that I fell for the things your agents wanted everyone to see, then you don’t know the first thing about me, and you don’t remember who my dad is. Did you forget how sweet he was to every journalist when there were cameras around? How friendly he was to all his fans? And how he yelled at me for putting the rollerblades on before I tried the skates?”

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