Page 18 of Spite Crush

“Why are there two chairs at this desk?” I asked after a minute of awkward silence stretched too long between us.

“I borrowed one from Ford’s room,” he answered with a shrug. “I figured it would be better than making you sit on the bed the minute you walked in.”

“So…he knows I’m here?” I hated how fucking pathetic I sounded, but I just wanted to know what I was getting into. Who was going to know what about whatever happened between us.

“No. I just took the chair,” he said with a grin. “For all Ford knows, I’m building a fort in here.” He tilted his head, his eyes glazing over for a moment as he stared at the chair I was in.

“Are you…thinking about building a fort right now?” I asked him, unable tokeep my amusement out of my tone.

“No,” he said, a little too quickly. “What am I five years old?”

“You certainly act like it,” I snapped.

“Look who’s talking,” he shot back. “Man, have you ever had a conversation with someone without insulting them?”

He was right. Even when I wasn’t trying to come across as an asshole, it still managed to seep into my entire personality.

“I don’t mean to,” I admitted, my shoulders slumping as I forced myself to relax. “I spend my life in a room full of guys who’s part time job is to run our mouths. And I’ve made it a whole persona. Sometimes I don’t know how to turn it off.”

“If that was an apology, it was terrible,” Kellen said, but he couldn’t seem to hold back the smile that jumped back to his mouth. “But we’ll work on it.”

It hadn’t been an apology at all, more like a half-assed explanation,but he could take it however he wanted to.

I still had no idea what we were doing here, and it was making me nervous, which was making me stupid. I knew the easiest thing to do would be to just ask for clarification of the situation, which was what I opened my mouth to do…unfortunately, once again, it didn’t come out quite how I wanted it to.

“So, are you gay?” I blurted.

“What was your first clue?” He raised an eyebrow and smirked at me.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

“I meant…shit…I don’t know what I meant.” I blew out a sigh and forced myself to just keep talking. Eventually I was going to get to my point. Maybe. Probably. “I just, I didn’t find anything online about your dating history or your orientation, so I didn’t know what you were into.”

“Does it matter?” he asked, thankfully not teasing me for Googling him.

“I guess not.” It shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help being curious about it. Maybe he was bi, or experimenting, or maybe he just hit on everything that moved. I didn’t know much about him and I didn’t know what it meant that I wanted to. “Except it kind of determines what I’m doing here, doesn’t it?”

“I am. Gay, I mean. Exclusively men for me. But I haven’t dated much, and the guys I’ve been withnever seemed to feel the need to run their mouths about it. It’s not a secret or anything. I guess no one really cares.” I winced and he must have noticed because his tone softened and he reached over to grip my wrist in his hand. “About me, I mean. I don’t know what it’s like for sports stars. And you know, everyone’s journey is their own to take. At the end of the day, it’s not really anyone’s business, is it?”

“So you’re okay with this being…private?” I asked.

“Zak…I don’t even know what this is,” he admitted with a soft smile. “But no, I don’t mind. We can be whatever you need us to be. Up to and including sniping each other in public.”

“And in private?” I hated how shy my voice sounded. But I was nervous.

The few times I’d hooked up with guys in the past, hadn’t been in brightly lit hotel rooms. They’d all been messy, fumbled affairs in locker rooms between me and another player that was borderline ashamedor scared of what we were doing together.

Kellen didn’t seem to have that issue.

It was difficult to reconcile this calm, confident man with the guy I’d helped through a panic attack a week ago. I knew I’d be hesitant, but I guess I’d expected him to be nervous as well.

But he just sat there, drinking his beer, holding my arm, gazing into my eyes. His body seemed completely relaxed, his expression holding nojudgement or anticipation. He was just…there. Just Kellen.

“In private…whatever you want.” He shrugged as he released his hold on my wrist. “I don’t have an agenda. You’re the one who said you can’t get me out of your head. Not that you explained what you meant by that, but I’m hoping that I guessed correctly.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I reminded him.

“You are indeed.” He took a sip from his bottle before setting it downon the desk. “So, what do you want to do?”

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