Page 38 of The Blame Game

“I haven’t asked yet, wanted to check with you first, but yeah, I’m gonna text them next. I was thinking I’d invite Myles who works with me at the clinic, and Ethan, who’s a guy I went to college with.”

“Great. And, uh, what do we tell them about how we know each other?” For the first time, Dom sounded uneasy.

“Oh. Good call, we need to have our stories straight. Um … well, the truth is probably easiest, right?”

Dom let out a choking noise. “Wait, they know you’re an escort?”

“Shit no.” Shea laughed. “I meant the stylist work. They know I did it to pay for PT school and that I still see some clients.”

Dom’s relieved sigh filled his ear. “Right. Okay, yeah, that makes a lot more sense.”

Shea chuckled. “So, we tell them I’ve been styling you for a few years. We’re buddies. No big deal.”

“Right. No big deal,” Dom echoed. “Okay, I’ll make a reservation for four people and you can let me know if anything changes.”

“Perfect. Shoot me the details of where and what time.” Shea grabbed his bag.

“Sounds good. See you Friday.”

“Yeah, see you Friday.” Shea ended the call and turned off the engine, stomach fluttering with anticipation.

Well, this ‘bro date’ was definitely going to be interesting.

“Hey, you want to do something on Friday?” Jordan asked on Thursday night while he and Dom finished their cooldown following a game, then transitioned to stretching, the final two guys to wrap up. “Colton, Jesse, and I were thinking about going to the indoor range, then doing dinner.”

Dom winced, both at the timing and at the knot in his hamstrings the foam roller hit. “Uh, I’d like to but I have plans that evening.”

“Oh, sure. No problem.”

“It’s my, uh, buddy’s birthday,” Dom explained. “We’re going to dinner and then a Titans game.”

Jordan’s expression eased. “Sure, some other time then.”

They finished their stretches and recovery work in silence but as Jordan stood and put the equipment away, he hesitated. “Hey, Dom?”

Dom grunted, the myofascial release ball digging into another tight spot below his shoulderblade. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to say I am sorry about the other night. I shouldn’t have bugged you when you were in the middle of your pregame stuff.”

“No, it’s okay,” Dom said. “I’m sorry I was short with you. I get in the zone and …”

“Yeah, I know.” Jordan gave him a halfhearted smile. “I don’t want to mess you up.”

“I didn’t mean to snap. I was going on too little sleep that night, which didn’t help.” Dom rubbed his face, trying to ignore the screaming agony in his shoulder.

Mother fucker, that spot would not loosen up.

“Everything worked out okay with the fire though?” Jordan asked.

“Oh, yeah. It was scary at the time but everything is fine.”

“Your friend is going to be okay?”

“Yep,” Dom grunted, digging in a little harder. “He’s all recovered.”

“Good.” Jordan shifted a medicine ball between his hands. “We all know the shit on JockGossip is total trash but, um, you know we wouldn’t care, right?”

Dom stared at him. “Wouldn’t care about what?”

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