Page 63 of Spite Crush

“Dude!” Carl said, glaring at me. “We’re your friends. Why would we care who you sleep with?”

“Right?” Henry agreed. “I mean, Josh is fucking a reporter and we still like him.”

“Hey!’ Josh snapped. “This isn’t about me. He fucks guys.”

“He’s not fucking me,” Ozzy said, shrugging. “So what do I care?”

I was so totally overwhelmed by their acceptance that I felt actual tears pricking at my eyes and had to turn away to face my locker so I could blink them back without anyone seeing. Knowing I’m gay was one thing, seeing me cry was something they’d never let go.

“You’re going to call him, right?” Leo asked.

“Yeah,” I said, coughing as I turned around to face them again. “I’ll call him tomorrow when I get home. But like I said, I can’t force him to come.”

“Oh, you’re not the top then?” Josh asked.

“Motherfucker—”

But everyone just burst out laughing over me then turned to strip and shower as if the conversation had never happened.

“Feel better?” Josh asked as he ripped his tarp off and shoved it into his bag.

“I can’t believe how much better I feel,” I admitted. “You didn’t tell them, did you?”

“I would never,” he said firmly. “You really have no idea how you and Kellen look at each other, do you?”

I just shrugged. I knew how I felt about him, but I guess I never realized other people would be able to see it.

“Well, it’s fucking gross,” he continued.

“As gross as you and Naomi?” I shot back.

“Probably.” He reached out and we fist bumped. “Damn, we’re going to win a championship, we’re in love, and we’re all one big happy family with no more secrets between us. That does feel pretty great.”

It certainly did.

Chapter Twenty-Five

~Kellen~

I didn’t want to be here.

The Inferno were down three games since I left Michigan and according to the internet if they lost again on Saturday they’d be out of the playoffs. Zak had to be freaking out. Not that he’d bothered to reach out to me about it.

And since I didn’t want to distract him, we’d been radio silent with each other for a week.

Again.

Now I was sitting in a conference room next to the lawyer that Rye had insisted I bring to the meeting with me, so we could talk to the label about plans for the next HSF album.

Or, as they were about to discover, the lack thereof.

“Kellen, good to see you!”

“Mr. Munsey.” I stood up and offered my hand to the president of the label, then to the six other men who trailed behind him as they walked past and made their way to sit across the table from us.

“Where is the rest of the band? And Mr. Casper?”

“They won’t be joining us. I’m Adrian Docket, Mr. Fox’s lawyer.”

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