Page 35 of Creed

He shakes his head and leans forward with his elbows on the table. “I’ve only known you a few months, Soph… How are you the closest friend I’ve ever had?”

The sorrow in his tone makes my heart ache. To the world, he’s an arrogant, elite athlete. People chomp at the bit to be in his inner circle, and there’s no shortage of females who want him. And that is the root of his problem. Well, I wouldn’t call it aproblem.Who Zac wants isn’t a problem, but he’s convinced it is.

“I blew it with Russ, Soph.” He hangs his head. “The moment I bowed to the pressure of keeping up appearances and the facade of my life.”

“Zac—”

He jumps up and braces his hands on the table, looking tormented. “At the frat party… Russ saw me cheating on him. Walked in while I was fucking Candy, who I could only fuck because I closed my eyes and pretended it was him.

“The only reason I had to fuck her was to keep up the pretense that I’m straight.” He paces, clenching his hands. “I fuck, and get my cock sucked, hand jobs… playing the part that I’m a man-whore for pussy…”

The self-loathing on his face cuts me to the quick.

“Then stop, Zac. Who you are, who you find attractive, isnot wrong.”

“Iknow that. That’s why this is so fucked.” His voice cracks, but he shakes his head. “My father would never accept it. My agent will drop me. Being openly gay in professional sports isn’t really accepted, Soph, no matter if they pretend it is for PR purposes.”

I don’t know if that’s true, but it doesn’t matter because Zac buys into that bullshit thinking.

“Then screw football. Is this all worth it if you have to hide what you truly want and are?”

“I’m nothing without football.”

Pissed off, I stand from the chair, making it grind on the linoleum. “Bull-fucking-shit,” I snarl at him, making him turn to me in surprise. I stride over to him and shove a finger into his chest. “What if you’re hit by a car and your arm is shattered? What if you can never play again? And the lifespan of a career in the big leagues—”

“That’s a baseball reference.”

“Whatever. Fuck.”

He smiles. “You usually don’t swear so much, sweet little Soph.”

I’m notalwayssweet, innocent Sophie Demeanus.

I scowl at him. “Shows you how pissed off I am at how stupid your thinking is.”

“Label the behavior, not the person,” he murmurs. “You’re always good at doing that.”

My anger eases. “Zac, look… I get that football is important, but it’s not your whole world or who you are.”

“It has to be if I want to make it to the big leagues.” He tries to make light of the situation, but I see his sadness. He steps away from me and looks through the window at the city street below.

“You need to do whatyouwant to do, Zac. Do what makes you happy. You can’t live your life for anyone else. Not for your family, or your agent, or the circle of so-called friends around you. Only you.”

His shoulders slump. “We’ll pick up working on the assignment tomorrow, yeah?”

I bite my lip, watching him, his misery and angst palpable.

“You’re distracted, too.” He looks at me over his shoulder. “You have been for the past two weeks. Don’t deny it.”

I can’t deny it. I’m completely and thoroughly distracted with memories of a large, broad, muscular man with more ink covering him than the ink in my pen.

Creed.

He’s distracting me.

How it had been to be with him, what he had done to my body… Hands down, the best night of my life. My body had never felt or responded like that before.

And I haven’t heard or seen anything from him since.

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