“Holy shit. That’s terrible. What did he say when you spoke?”
“I haven’t spoken to him since. That text was our last communication. I had to go, by myself, in front of our friends and family to tell them the wedding was off. It was as horrific as it sounds. Even worse.”
His eyes widen. “He called off your wedding, made you tell everyone, and then never was man enough to sit down with you and have a real conversation about it?”
I sigh. “That’s exactly right.”
“What a dick.”
“Yep. It’s made me wary. I…umm…haven’t dated since. Back home, I was always afraid of running into him. I didn’t think I could handle that, so I barely went out. It was just one of the many reasons for me to move out here. I needed this fresh start. Somewhere that I’m…unafraid.”
“Did…did he hurt you? I don’t understand why you’re afraid.”
“Not physically like you’re thinking. Honestly, I’d rather not talk about it anymore. It’s depressing, and I’m making an effort to look to the future, not the past.”
He nods. “Okay.” He gently tucks my hair behind my ear and then catches himself and pulls his hand back. “Sorry. I didn’t want it to get into the food.”
Layton Lancaster is different from what I expected. He’s sensitive and engaging. I thought he’d be conceited and aloof. He’s confident, but not in an asshole way.
He’s incredibly humble and sweet with fans. Every few minutes, both kids and adults approach him to get autographs and their pictures taken with him. He’s very kind and accommodating to them, never saying no, even when it’s disruptive to our conversation and our meal.
As we’re finishing the cheesesteaks, a woman approaches and asks him to sign the top of her breasts. His eyes toggle between me and her. “I’m here with my girlfriend. I’m happy to sign something else if you’d like.”
The woman looks me up and down. I’m suddenly very conscious of my athletic shorts, tank top, ponytail, and makeup-free face. This is like that woman at the bar last night. I might need to up my wardrobe if I’m going to be on Layton’s arm for the next three months.
Layton and the woman eventually agree on him signing her arm, which he does.
When she leaves, I smile. “Does that happen a lot?”
He smirks. “Every damn day.”
So much for not being conceited.
By the timeI arrive home, there are a bunch of photos online of Layton and me eating our cheesesteaks in LOVE Park. Headlines with puns about Layton in LOVE are abundant. I didn’t even notice any cameras. I suppose I need to be on alert when I’m out with him.
I’m going to my first Cougars game tonight. I squeeze my body into the jersey that’s about four sizes too small. This shirtis definitely not made for someone with boobs, especially my bigger size. Is it really necessary for it to be so damn tight and revealing? LeRond absolutely did this on purpose.
Kam and Bailey walk in wearing equally tight jerseys with Lancaster on the back. Ripley walks out of her bedroom in a bigger jersey with my brother’s name. I look at her in question.
“Layton has enough fans in this group. I’m giving Quincy some love too.”
“I don’t remember seeing that jersey in LeRond’s bag,” I note accusatorially.
She gives a guilty look. “I had already purchased it. I owned one in Houston too. Us pitchers have to stick together. Just because we don’t play every day doesn’t mean we don’t need fans in the stands.”
Kam places her hands on her hips. “Are you fucking Quincy Abbott?”
I make a look of disgust. “Ugh, no. She would never do that. He’s like a brother to her too.”
Ripley nods. “I grew up with him. I’m supporting my friend, just like I would do for you.”
Kam shrugs. “He’s hot. He looks like Jax fromSons of Anarchy. I’d fuck him if I were you.”
I stare at her in astonishment. “Can you please not talk about my brother like that? It’s gross.”
“Your brother has to deal with you dating Layton. I’m sure he’s disgusted too. He didn’t seem very happy about it last night.”
I hate keeping this from them, but I can’t let the business arrangement leak.